#I tried to double up on mutuals as songs to try and get everyone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

8K notes · View notes

neo-shitty · 3 years

Text

at twilight — c.yj

description. in which twilight blurred the line between yeonjun’s plane of existence and yours.

pairing. choi yeonjun x gender-neutral reader

genre. angst, pining? mutual pining? kimi no nawa!au

warnings. none

word count. 0.9k

notes. inspired by the “I KNOW IT’S REAL I CAN FEEL IT” line in i know i love you because the emotion in that part of the song???? chef’s kiss. here ya go, have an angst fic

“I’m sorry, but there’s really no record of them here. The ID they used might’ve been fake—”

Yeonjun didn’t bother to stick around to listen. He muttered a thank you to cut them off, turned his heel and left the secretary’s office. All his hopes died with the failure of his last resort. In the end, his search for clarity left him even more confused than fulfilled.

Every step he took felt heavy and dragged, exhaustion finally catching up after being fueled throughout the whole trip. He was struggling to come into terms with the idea that he’d come this far only to get more questions than answers. His disappointment made him feel hollow and the confusion made his head ache.

He was beginning to doubt his own memories. The halls he paced felt like mockeries. If he was mistaken, why did the pillars look so familiar? If you didn’t exist, why could he still remember the photos you sent that were taken in the exact same hall? Why did he remember your face so vividly when no one else seemed to?

He walked mindlessly, backtracking his own steps until he found the school’s main gate and walked out. The whole day passed in a haze of busy people on bustling streets, speedy train rides and missed stations. Getting lost in a city of skyscrapers wasn’t something Yeonjun looked forward to doing again.

Outside, the sun had already begun to set, giving way to the moon and its stars. One end of the sky had already begun to darken while the other still bathed in the light of the sun—blurring the line between night and day. The warm hues left by the sun’s last rays still lingered in the sky, creating a perfect balance between darkness and light.

Twilight.

If Yeonjun stared at the sky any longer, he would’ve missed it. Across the street from him, through the blur of cars desperately trying to cross the junction before the traffic lights turned red again, he saw you.

He had to blink once, twice, just to make sure it wasn’t just his mind playing games out of desperation and exhaustion. But even after his ministrations to double check if it was just a trick, he could still see you behind the row of pedestrians—walking with your head straight forward, earphones plugged in and paying no heed to anyone and anything around you.

Yeonjun tried to reign himself down, open to the possibility that he might just be seeing things. But he’d stared at your face long enough to recognize it anywhere.

He absent-mindedly followed you, tripping over his own feet as he tried not to lose sight of you when you rounded the corner. He tapped his foot on the cement restlessly, looking up at the traffic lights every few seconds before looking back at your retreating figure as it walked further and further away from him. Traffic light, asphalt road, blur of cars. Traffic light, twilight sky, you.

The light blinked green and he broke into a sprint, dashing across the pedestrian lane ahead of everyone else on his side of the street. He weaved his way through, barely blinking just so he wouldn’t lose sight of your back. It took every ounce of self-control not to shove anyone aside, but he was getting desperate. If he missed you now, he wasn’t sure if he'd ever see you again.

He made it to the opposite side where everyone seemed to be walking slower on purpose. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get any closer to you. There were barely any spaces he could squeeze through, and if he managed to pass a few rows of people he’d be shoved to the back almost immediately after. Almost as if fate was purposely keeping him away from you.

But then you turned around.

His breath hitched in his throat the second you looked back at him, staring as if you’d known he’d been there all this time. You didn’t wear your usual stoic expression. Instead, you looked at him warmly, as if to say you were glad he was here—that you were glad that he found you. But you didn’t open your mouth to say anything nor did you make a move to step closer. You stopped walking, and so did he. You both stood in the middle of the sidewalk like rocks anchored to the riverbed as the water flowed around you. The people drifted along, appearing in a blur of figures as time slowed for the both of you alone.

The corner of your lips curled up and you smiled—the same one you would break into when you sat across him during your picnics at the park. The same one illuminated by fairy lights whenever you stole kisses in the dark. If you were nothing but a fragment of his imagination, why did your smile feel so warm and familiar? Why could he still feel the way your lips would brush against his?

Darkness tipped the scale of balance as it ate away the last bits of the day. Your image began to flicker and he could only stare confusedly at how you became more and more transparent with every second that passed. Twilight blurred the lines between two separate planes of existence; overlapping with one another and allowing snippets like these to occur even when it shouldn’t. It was a concept Yeonjun was yet to understand and something you stalled to explain to him. But you figured it was inevitable now that he was chasing after you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough time now. Maybe next time, you thought, making a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t try to avoid him then.

“Come find me again,” you whispered and you wondered if it reached him as the day slowly gave in to the night.

Twilight passes before Yeonjun could reach you and you disappear right in front of his eyes again.

#yeonjun angst #yeonjun imagines #txt yeonjun #kpopscape #ficscafe #kwritersworldnet #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun drabbles #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt drabbles #choi yeonjun angst #tomorrow x together angst #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #txt fluff #yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader

167 notes · View notes

prettytoxicrevolver · 3 years

Text

Drink | Punz

Requested? Kinda LMAO

Warnings? partying, drinking, creepy dude

Summary: You ask Punz to watch your drink at a party

Word Count: 1,261

You hadn’t been to a party in ages.

Not for any particular reason, just that it had been a while, and you didn’t have any reason or the feeling to go out and get blackout drunk, party, and make an ass out of yourself with friends.

However, when your best friend texted you the details of a somewhat lowkey party you decided that it was time to get back out again. You dressed clad in your cutest dress, black high heels, and a small over-the-shoulder purse.

“Sheesh!!!” Karl greets you when you swing open your front door.

You burst into laughter, doubling over and when you stand up straight again you smile upon seeing Karl grinning widely at you. He sticks a hand out to you and you take it and together you head out to the party.

You and Karl had been friends for ages now, meeting through your mutual love of Minecraft and streaming. You had then turned and met the rest of his friends, becoming close with all of them.

“Who’s gonna be at the party?” you ask as the two of you step into an uber together.

“Sap, George, Dream, Alex, Punz, Niki, Wilbur,” he starts to list off.

“Wait, Punz is gonna be there?” you say stuttering on the name, and Karl smiles knowingly.

“Yes your little boyfriend will be there,” he retorts and you shove him.

“We’re not anything.”

Karl rolls his eyes shaking his head as he does so but smiles and turns his attention back to you.

“So everyone?” you say and Karl smiles letting you switch the subject.

“Yeah basically everyone will be there.”

The drive to the party is a quick one and when you pull up to the house you realize that the lowkey party was turning into quite a giant house party. You toss a look at Karl who shrugs his shoulders before pulling you out of the car with him.

You head into the party with a sense of nervousness, worried that the number of people you don’t know would outweigh the number of people you did know. But, as you head inside, one of your favorite songs booming in the background you’re excited.

“(y/n)!!!” Sap greets when you walk in.

“Hey!!” you yell back heading straight for him.

You throw your arms up, wrapping them around the younger boy’s neck before placing a kiss on his cheek. He smiles cheekily at you before resting a hand on your waist and you turn to the rest of the boys he’s with.

“Dream, George, always a pleasure,” you joke, and the two friends grin at you.

“The life of the party has arrived,” Dream responds and you nod.

“And, I need a drink,” you continue winking at him before pulling yourself away.

You head to the drink area, surveying your choices and as you do so, you feel a presence come up behind you.

“I say stick to the white claws,” the sound of Punz’ voice making your heart flutter and a smile appear on your lips.

“You’re an asshole,” you say laughing.

“Truly?” he says offering you a drink.

“Oh honey, I don’t take drinks from strangers,” you joke, and Punz smiles and drops his head.

You do grab a drink though, a concoction of something sweet and no doubt vodka, and hold it up to Punz, the older boy clinks his drink to yours, and you both down your drinks respectively,

You slam your empty cup on the table, fresh adventure sparkling in your eyes before grabbing another drink. You turn to Punz, offering a bold wink, and head off to the makeshift dance floor.

“Ooh, there’s my girl!” Sap yells when you come back over.

You laugh, throwing your head back and Sap takes your free hand and pulls you into his embrace. You sling your arm loosely around his shoulders as he circles your waist. Your left hand holds your drink in the air, a slight smile gracing your lips.

Punz stands just outside of the makeshift dance floor, drink held to his lips with purpose. His eyes glaze over your figure, wanting nothing more than to replace Sapnap’s hands with his own, feel your heartbeat against his, your hands around him.

Your eyes drift as you dance, spotting Punz eyeing you up and down only making you more nervous. You try and focus on Sap’s touch, the music surrounding you, but nothing slows your heartbeat.

“I’ll be back,” you call to Sap before pulling away.

You head straight for Punz, your heart still hammering, and when the older boy sees you his smirk returns. You hold out your drink, and the older boy takes it in his head tentatively.

“Watch that for me darling?” you ask and you can see Punz swallow and nod before you walk away to the bathroom.

Punz keeps his position by the back of the room and watches as one of the lesser-known people at the party approaches him.

“Hey man!” the guy greets and Punz gives him a once over.

“Hey,” he says.

“You were just talking to (y/n) right? She’s hot as fuck,” the guy continues and Punz stands up a little straighter, a burn of jealousy flowing through him.

“Yeah man she’s cool,” he says trying to stay calm.

“Mind if I grab her drink from you? She knows me and I told her I’d get her another anyway.”

By this point, Punz is (most likely) irrationally pissed off. He scans the frat boy up and down, wondering what he thought he was trying to do.

“Fuck off,” Punz spits out.

“Dude,” the guy tries again placing a hand on Punz’s arm.

The next minute happens in slow motion. Punz drops his drink, his now free hand, coming in contact with the random guy’s nose perfectly offering a sickening crunch and sending the guy backward about a foot.

In the process, your drink tips from his other hand onto the ground and a half crowd has formed wondering what’s going on. Punz and the random guy stare each other down for a moment, but Punz being inches taller and easily more intimidating causes the man to back off.

Punz waits another moment, before heading back over to the drinks, grabbing one for himself and another for you, and then back to his original spot where he finds you with a confused look on your face.

“Did you punch a dude out?” you ask as he approaches.

“Possibly. Here’s a new drink by the way,” he says handing you a fresh drink which you take.

“Why?”

“The guy was trying to put something in your drink so I may or may not have laid him out and spilled both our drinks at the same time,” he explains.

You stare at the boy in front of you in amazement, surprised that not only he was trying to protect you, he punched someone out for you and got you a brand new drink.

“Was I not supposed to?” Punz follows up at your silence.

“Will you come here,” you say and Punz tilts his head to the side.

You grab his free hand, pulling him in and placing it on your waist. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and while the proximity makes you dizzy you smile a hopefully confident smile nonetheless.

“You know you’re my designated drink holder now?” you ask and Punz laughs.

“Come here dumbass,” he retorts pulling you in for a kiss that makes even the people around you turn and look.

#punz x reader #punz imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #x reader #imagine #bravebesson

367 notes · View notes

insomniamamma · 3 years

Text

Safe: Ezra x f!reader w/Cee

A/n: What can I say? I'm hormonal and all my shit hurts and if I cannot get snuggles IRL then I will write something super soft and self-indulgent to make myself feel better. Part of the Prickle AU. Set sometime after Sacellum.

Warnings: Oh no! There's only one bed. Soft!Ezra. Language. Cee's best friend on The Pug is non-binary and also named after my little boy's favorite stuffy. Maybe the slightest bit of angst. But mostly super soft.

"You did this on purpose." "Right hand to Kevva, I did not. I asked for double occupancy and they must have misunderstood and--" "You don't have a right hand," "Let's go back to the reception desk," says Ezra, "We may be able to negotiate more appropriate accommodations." "Errgh," you groan. Reception had been a nightmare, three freighters worth of traffic trying to secure berths all at once. It was a lot of people. Too many for your liking. Cee was staying with Kit and their family. Kit and Cee had practically tackled each other right there on the dock, everyone else forgotten, walked away arm in arm. "We shove off in three cycles," Ezra hollered at her retreating back, and she flapped a dismissive hand at him. You had to smile. For three cycles Cee gets to be a normal teenager hanging out with her best friend without worrying about points and pulls and overhead costs and fuel margins. "I don't wanna go back down there," you say, "Too many people. I think twice the population of Falnost was waiting in that fucking line." You brush past him and into the suite. The ceilings are low and slightly curved and it feels strange to be under this much grav. The outer rings of Puggart Bench have something close to terra-normal gravity, but after so much time spent on little moons and worldlets, this much G feels weird and you have no desire to trudge back down to reception. "You sure?" Asks Ezra. "Yeah," you drop your day bag and press a hand to the mattress. "Look at the size of this thing. It's, like, five crash-couches wide. This seems above our pay grade." "They're overbooked," says Ezra, "We're paying the same points for the berth we should have gotten. I made sure of it. I can sleep in that recliner if--" "No." "No?" "Kevva, Ez, we're both adults," you say, "I think we can share a bed for a night without exploding."

Your suite has a real, honest-to-Goddess shower with a generous 15 minute timer. You scrub as fast as you can and then just let the water hit you, let the pressure pound on your tense back muscles until the chime sounds and the water cuts off. You towel off and dress, soft clothes you sleep in, and pad out into the main room. Ezra is reading, face far off and serious, and you just look at him for a minute, illuminated in the warm lamp-light, absorbed in his book, little furrow between his brows and then he looks up, all knowing smirk and dancing eyes, he's caught you staring. "Your turn, Ez," You say and turn your face away. Kevva. This man. You've been trying to keep things professional, but it's a losing battle. His flirtations make you flush, but he's never tried to push you, never tried to leverage the fact that it's his name on the ship's title, that you signed a contract, that you are junior-most crew. You feel safe with him. And, from your limited experience in the fringe, that is a miracle in itself.

Ezra sets his book aside and heads for the bathroom. You peel the sheets from the other side of the bed and settle in. There's a media player bolted to the wall, but you just want quiet. You switch off the lamp on your nightstand (we both have lamps, we both have a nightstand, how weird is that?) The sheets feel deliciously cool against your skin. To be clean and sleeping in clean sheets...if Heaven isn't like this Kevva's got some answering to do. Ezra sings in the shower. You're barely awake and you smile. Ezra can't carry a tune in a bucket, singing fringeling songs and reels, stories of mercs and pirates and ghosts and you drift off to the sound of him, the sound of the water running.

He sees you soft and loose and asleep. No rail-gun, no body armor, no thrower under your pillow. Your face slack, snoring slightly. You've kicked out of the blankets and lay curled as if chilled. "Hey Artichoke," he murmurs, pulls the blankets up and tucks them around you, "Let's get you warm, yeah?"

Ezra wakes. Bleared red numbers of the clock saying that this is still the deepest ditch of local night. Ezra is warm and confused. He feels you pressed against him, your chest to his back, an arm hooked around his middle, your legs entwined with his. You've sought him out in your sleep and folded yourself around him, your breath slow and steady against his nape. Ezra's eyes prick with tears. He can't remember the last time he's been held like this. He's had lovers. He has payed for sex on the less reputable Benches of the Great Arm, but for someone to hold him? For someone to touch him without payment, without trying to press some advantage, gain some kind of leverage, without priming him for the inevitable backstab? He is overwhelmed. He tries to wriggle away from you, but your arm just tightens around him. "...fixed the transponder," you mutter against his neck, "told you we didn't need...told you..." He pats your arm and relaxes against you. "Okay, Artichoke, okay, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

You wake enfolded, Ezra's good arm wrapped around you. You feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the slow sussurration of his breath, the snores that catch in his throat and turn to murmurs, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. You've tucked yourself against him in your sleep. Your hand rests on his sternum. Oh Kevva. What are you doing? You go rigid. Your first impulse is to wrestle out of his hold, take one of the blankets and install yourself in the recliner that you wouldn't let Ezra take, but part of you wants to stay right here in the combined warmth of your bodies, feeling his breath, his heart, his calloused palm spread against your shoulder. You shift, making the smallest effort to pull yourself away and his arm tightens further, a low, sleepy chuckle reverberates through his chest. "Hi Ez," "Hi." He strokes the pad of his thumb along the exposed curve of your shoulder. "I'll get up," you say, even as he shifts and cups the back of your head in his palm, tucking you closer. "You don't have to," he says, voice rough with sleep. This gesture pricks at your heart. Coming up on Falnost has made you hard, guarded, there has been precious little gentleness in your life, pulling rocks out of the parched ground since you were big enough to lift a shovel. Learned to fight and shoot to chase water-thieves from the homestead. He strokes the back of your head like one might pet a skittish cat and your heart squeezes. "Ezra?" You hate how small your voice sounds, you hate the uncertainty you hear there, "Are we okay?" "Of course we are," he says, "Why wouldn't we be?" "I wrapped around you like a Bueller's world python and I did it in my sleep-" "The wrapping was mutual-" "You're not mad or uncomfortable or anything?" He laughs again, gentle huff of breath against the crown of your head. "Mad about waking with you in my arms? The day I'm mad about that you can just shoot me in the head and send me to Kevva because I will surely have lost my ever-loving mind." You smile against his skin and relax some, your hand unfists and you curl your arm around his soft belly, feel his breath hitch. "Tickles." "Sorry." You feel yourself drift, skirting the edge of sleep. He is warm and solid and you let yourself relax against him. “This feels...safe..." you say, so close to sleep that you're not sure if you've said it aloud or if you've just thought it. And you're not sure if you hear his response or dream it, one word. Always.

"She's late," says Ezra. "We still got a sixteenth to button up and board," "Still," says Ezra, "Yon freighter will leave with our pod wether we're strapped in it or not." You see Cee and Kit, trailed by Kit's parents, weaving through the crowd. Cee is beaming, her blonde hair has a brilliant streak of blue, and Kit has a matching streak in their hair. "Hey guys!" Cee hugs Ezra and then hugs you. "How was your shore leave, Little Bird? I like the fancy hair." "Isn't that cool? We've got matching streaks," says Cee. "It's semi-permanent," says Kit, "We'll pick a different color next time!" You have to smile. Cee looks revitalized. Three cycles spent with her friend, just doing normal kid things has been good for her. "Check this out!" says Cee and pushes a laminated drawing towards the two of you. Ezra makes a show of looking carefully. "I recognize you and Kit," he says, "I am not familiar with these other people, though." "They're from The Streamer Girl, dumbass," says Cee, "Here's Clo and Reive and Lily and Auri. See? Kit put us right in the story." Ezra gives Kit his best smile. “You drew this? You are very talented." Kit smiles big. "Thanks!" says Kit, "I'll put you guys in the next one! Maybe you could be professors at Bowsun Academy or something." "I look forward to it," says Ezra. "Time to go, Cee," you say and Cee and Kit exchange one more enthusiastic hug. "Later fringeling!" Calls Kit. "Piss off, stationer!" Cee calls back. Ezra curls his fingers around yours and squeezes. Cee tells you all about her three cycles with Kit, the movies they watched, the Real Food they ate. How Kit's little brother wanted a blue streak in his hair too and Kit's parents said no and how mad he got. I wanna be cool like Kit and Cee. "I told him he's got plenty of time to be cool," says Cee, "And he told me that I don't understand how the world works. He's like, four." Ezra laughs. "Wise for his years." Says Ezra. And the three of you fall quiet. You find the pod much as you left it, towed to the Polly Jean and clipped in, transferred by the station's tugs. You settle in and do a full systems check. Calling out the checklists and making sure everything is good for transit. "What are you guys so happy about?" asks Cee. "Whatever do you mean?" asks Ezra. "You been all smiles since I hit the dock," says Cee, "Both of you. Did we score a really good job? Did we win the Puggart Bench lottery or something? What aren't you telling me?" "That," says Ezra, "Is for us to know and you to endlessly speculate about." "Hmph," says Cee.

Tagging: @oonajaeadira, @grogusmum , @honestly-shite, @writeforfandoms, @ladyvengeancesposts, @the-blind-assassin-12

#ezra x f!reader w/cee #ezra prospect x f!reader w/cee #ezra and cee #soft!ezra needs his own warning #don't look at me #this is so soft

114 notes · View notes

saintorchid · 3 years

Text

Smells Like Home

___________________

A/N: Yeah this is pure fluff baby. One of my mutuals informed me that there is bath and body works candle that smells exactly like Nanami. And you know what I did? I wrote a fic. Enjoy!

Warnings: none/I don't own bath and body works pls don't sue me

(bath and body works if you see this please think of it as free advertising please and thank you)

___________________

Two months ago at a shopping center, you and Nanami decided to pick up some necessities and maybe indulge a little.

Of course, going anywhere with your boyfriend Nanami requires some organization. Before leaving the house, you and Nanami created a list of the stores you planned to visit and things that the two of you needed to buy. If you know one thing about Nanami, he hates being in public. He instead stays at home with you, cuddled on the couch while you play with his golden hair. But now he’s in public with you holding your hand while you hum a song that’s been stuck in your head since last week.

Nanami looks at you while you checked the list you two made before leaving the house. He sees you muttering under your breath, “Okay, we picked up the new curtains, got some cleaning supplies yadda yadda yadda.”

You looked at the list to double-check that you two bought all the stuff you needed before heading home and cooking dinner. Nanami knows that you like to indulge yourself whenever you go out in public. You’ll sometimes buy under-eye masks for him and a new lipstick for yourself or a unique floral blanket. After living with you, he knows about your blanket obsession. Due to your obsession with soft fluffy blankets, you have a designated closet for blankets. He doesn’t mind. He likes to see you happy.

He smiles at the thought that crossed his mind and looked at you, still focused on the list. He breaks your train of thought.

Nanami speaks in a soft voice only reserved for you to hear, “Dear, is there any other store you would like to visit before we leave?”

You looked at the man with a gentle expression on his face. You spoke, “Actually, yes. Can we go to bath and body works? I’m running out of my favorite lotion.”

Nanami replies to you, “Of course we can go.” He could never say no to you. He’ll do anything for you to see a smile on your face. Both of you walked into the fragrant store, greeted by the salesperson.

You ask the salesperson where you could find your lotion, and she takes you to the lotion display. Before Nanami could join you, he received a call from his work. He stops you in your tracks.

“Hey honey, I have to take this call. It’s from work. It might take some time, depending on the situation. I’ll wait outside until you’re done.”

You reply, “Okay, sounds good, love.”

You and the salesperson resume on your journey to buy your lotion; after looking and finding your lotion, you come across a new candle display. Intrigued, you picked up the candle called “mahogany teakwood high intensity.” You smelled the candle and immediately thought it smelled just like Nanami. You didn’t even notice, but you headed to the register with the lotion and candle in hand. You paid for the items and headed out of the store. You found your boyfriend waiting for you with his hand held out. You grasp his hand, feeling how rough and calloused it is but always so gentle with you.

-Present Day-

Nanami yells at you from across the house, “Hey honey, have you seen my tie?” While he yelled at you, you were preparing his lunch for his business trip. Lately, business trips have frequently been happening. You understood that it was apart of his job, but still, you missed him dearly.

As you were chopping some fruit, you replied, “Did you check in your dress pocket? You tend to put them there when you prepare your suits!”

Nanami reached into his dress pocket, feeling the silk material between his fingers. He yells back a thank you. As he finished preparing his materials for the business meeting, he heads downstairs to put on his shoes and kiss you goodbye. You handed him his lunch, wishing him to come back soon and to be careful.

He kisses you goodbye, but before he turns his head, you grab him by his tie and kiss him harshly. Surprised by the sudden action, he kisses you once more.

“Honey, I have to go, or I’ll be late. You know how I like to be punctual.”

“One more,” You held his face with your hands.

“One more, what?” Nanami whispers. He knows that you get embarrassed when you ask for kisses. Seeing you get flustered makes his heart race.

“Kiss me one more time before you leave, please,” You look into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilate. You would do anything to have him stay a second more, but his job is important.

He grins and pours every single drop of love he has for you into a single kiss.

The two of you stand embracing each other. Nanami can be a minute or two late.

“How long will you be gone again?” You said into his chest.

“Four days and three nights,” Nanami kissed your forehead.

He lets go putting on his shoes and double-checking if he has everything. Once he’s sure, he says goodbye, and he’ll text you when he arrives at his destination.

The two of you exchanged ‘I love you's, and Nanami closed the door. It does hurt him to leave you, but he always brings you a souvenir from his trip to make it up to you.

——————

For the next two days, you did some chores around the house, read the book you have been putting off, and looked for recipes for future dinners. On the coffee table of your living room, you lit the candle you bought two months ago. It smells just like Nanami. You used this candle every time Nanami went on a business trip. It was used to compensate for him not being with you. The scent of the candle does feel like he’s right next to you. You yearned for him, but his trip was going to be over soon, which you were thankful for.

The third day rolls around. You headed out to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for today's dinner. After grocery shopping, you went to your local cafe ordering a drink and some pastries for you and Nanami to try.

You arrived at your empty home. Like a ritual, you put away the groceries and put the pastries on the table. You took a bath and put on a new set of clothes consisting of a pair of leggings and Nanami’s sweater. It was about six pm when you decided to continue to read your book. As always, you lit the candle on the coffee table. Its scent started to fill the room. As you read for an hour, you decided to start on today's dinner.

You put on your apron and washed the vegetables that you were going to use in your soup. You got into a rhythm: chop, toss the vegetables into the pot, stir, and clean.

Since you fell into a rhythm, you didn’t notice Nanami leaning against the island in the kitchen. Nanami’s business trip ended much quicker than he expected. Everyone on his team was super efficient and was very progressive on the current project they were working on, which made him more grateful.

You stopped chopping and put the rest of the ingredients into the pot string gently. It didn’t register in your mind that Nanami's two arms wrapped around your waist. Your body immediately recognizes his presence. You turn your head to see a man with a content smile on his face. Before you could say anything, he says, “I’m home.”

You stopped stirring and lowered the heat on the stove, letting the soup simmer for thirty minutes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He picks you up and carries you to the living room sofa.

You ask him how his trip was while stroking his face. He softly rubs circles on your hand that cupped his face. He tells you that the business trip ended early due to everything running so smoothly. You were so happy that you embraced him, knocking the two of you back onto the sofa.

The two of you laugh, enjoying each other's presence. Nanami strokes your hair. In the corner of his eye, he notices the candle. “Hey honey, what’s that?” He asks you.

“Oh, the candle? I bought it two months ago when we went shopping. It smells just like you, so I bought it. I light it every time you leave for a business trip. It makes me feel like you are still here with me.” You see his cheeks dusted in a faint pink.

Nanami feels so guilty about how any trips that he had to go on these past few months, leaving you all alone in the house. He speaks, telling you not to worry because, luckily for him, this would be his last business trip until the new year rolls around.

You were beyond ecstatic. You peppered his face with kisses while saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you between each kiss.

“I guess you won’t be needing that candle for quite some time, huh?”

You roll your eyes at his remark smiling bashfully. It’s been thirty minutes, and the soup was ready.

“C’mon, let's have dinner,” You said while grabbing Nanami’s hand heading towards the kitchen table.

The two of you eat, enjoying dinner. After dinner, Nanami washed the dishes while you prepared some tea for the pastries you bought earlier.

The two of you tried each other's pastry, critiquing the taste and presentation. Having Nanami be home felt like you were whole again. Little did you know he felt the same way.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #jjk fluff #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #this man deserves the world #i love him so bad #lives in my mind rent free #also if y'all read the tags please let me know what you think #i am open to constructive criticism

238 notes · View notes

yakultberry · 3 years

Text

✪ summary: it's no surprise that doyoung spoils you on your birthday, but somehow, he still takes your breath away. ✪ pairing: law student!doyoung x reader ✪ genre(s): fluff, college au ✪ word count: 1.5k words

✪ a/n: another birthday fic i wrote, this time for my queen @secndlife !! love you, karol 💖 or should i say horanghae ADJFLAJSDLJF anyway, this is just a little snippet of a college au that we sometimes indulge ourselves with hehehe enjoy!

“You have something on your lips, baby.”

You look across the small cafe table at your boyfriend, a small smile spreading on your icing-covered lips. “Well, maybe you should help me clean it up. It’s my birthday after all.”

Doyoung, used to your antics, just rolls his eyes as he grabs a napkin and reaches over to wipe at your mouth. “Ah, so you’re doing this on purpose,” he says with a raised eyebrow, his tone stern. But you don’t miss the subtle way his lips curl up at the corners or the way his eyes instantly soften when they meet yours.

“Maybe,” you hum playfully. Not quite satisfied with his reaction, you press on. “I thought you might have kissed it off, though. It’s more romantic, you know.”

He lets out a huff, scrunching his nose at you. “Oh, so now you’re teasing me!” Even after dating for over a year, Doyoung still can’t help feeling flustered whenever you bat your lashes at him (though he definitely exaggerates his reactions just to see you giggle like you are now). Again, he fails to hide the small smile on his own face. “Just eat the rest of your cake, we have to go soon!”

“Fine, I guess the kisses can wait until later,” you say through your laughter, only to double down when Doyoung lets out another exasperated sound. To everyone else, Doyoung is a put-together, intelligent pre-law student, expertly juggling his studies, vice president duties at the fraternity, and his personal life (that’s you). Those who know Doyoung less, might call him uptight, maybe even overbearing-- it is a common misconception of pre-law majors after all.

To you though, you know that underneath his cool, type A exterior, there is a soft, nurturing side to your boyfriend. As hard as he tried to keep up his facade, the boy never really stood a chance against you; and now, all his love simply flows out through each of his actions, constantly enveloping you in a warmth you’ve never felt before. Still, you can’t help but poke fun at him at times, loving the blush that would creep on his cheeks whenever he tried too hard to hide his affection for you.

“Should I let them know that we’re on our way back now?” you ask as Doyoung finishes up paying the bill.

“Wait no, don’t!”

Just as you pick up your phone, Doyoung places a hand over yours, his eyes wide. Your own narrow at him slowly. “...Why not?” When your dear boyfriend tries to only respond with a smile that more resembles a grimace, it is suddenly your turn to be stern. “Baby.”

“Well, I might have told Johnny and Lily that this was going to be a surprise party. Yuta and Daisy, too.”

You blink. “Doyoung, you do know that to throw a surprise party, the person has to be, you know, surprised. Also, you know I hate surprises!”

“Well yes, that’s why I told you that we’re having a party,” Doyoung explains. He takes your hand in his as you exit the cafe, simply walking up the street to get to your apartment. “I just thought it would be funny to tell Johnny and Lily that they had to go to the apartment early to decorate it before you arrive or something.”

“Oh my god.” The both of you meet eyes with mutual shit-eating grins. For the past summer, the two of you had been persistently trying to set up your two friends to confess their (very obvious) feelings for each other. As the months go on, one of your forms of entertainment has been creating situations where they could be alone. “How long have they been there for?”

“Maybe two hours?”

“Nooo, that’s probably the longest yet!” you cackle heartily, squeezing his hand in yours out of habit. “Oh god, this is why I love you.”

“I know, I know, I’m a genius,” Doyoung sing-songs, chuckling beside you.

“Wait, but if we walk in and find them making out on the couch, I will lowkey fight you,” you deadpan, only half joking. As much as you wanted the two to finally get together, you did not want to see them sucking face in your home. Where you live.

“You promise?”

“Shut up!” Your laughter echoes against the tall buildings lining the street.

The late afternoon sun streams between the gaps of the skyscrapers and washes the apples of your smiling cheeks in a warm summer glow. Although the fall semester has yet to begin, there are many young people bustling about, and your shoulder brushes against Doyoung’s as you leisurely stroll up the sidewalk. It’s moments like these that make him stop and remember how lucky he is to have someone as radiant as you.

He lifts your clasped hands to press a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I love you too, by the way.”

“Hmm, you better.”

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your apartment, the both of you excitedly talking about your plans for the evening up until you get on the elevator.

“I texted them we’re on the way up, but Yuta said they’re not ready,” Doyoung laughs.

“It’s fine, I already know anyway!” you say, impatient to start the night’s festivities already. According to Doyoung, he had even bought a table at one of the swankiest clubs in the city, and you did not plan on walking in even slightly sober.

“No but,” Doyoung whispers as you approach the door of your apartment. “You still have to act surprised when we go in, okay? They’ll kill me if they find out.”

“Ugh, fine!”

You can faintly hear frantic whispers and a small commotion behind your apartment door when you reach it, even making out a ‘Johnny, you can’t fit there!’ before everything seems to go still. Doyoung opens the door for you after a moment, and there is a short moment of silence before the lights flash on and streamers are popped.

“SURPRISE!” your friends cheer in unison. You place a hand over your chest in your best attempt to look shocked, though a genuine smile does spread on your face when you see them all there to celebrate with you

“Haha, say hi to the camera!” Johnny, a tall guy with a knack for photography, yells, capturing the exact moment you walk in.

Before you can say anything, your best friends, Lily and Daisy, pull you further into the apartment, which is elaborately decorated with balloons and streamers. There is even a shiny inflated ‘26’ hung on the wall. You can’t help but look at your friends with a pout. “You guys did all of this?”

“Of course we did, bestie!” Lily beams at you, clinging onto your arm. “But thank god you’re here, I was alone with Johnny for so long because Yuta and Daisy got here late.” You laugh at the dirty look she shoots over at Daisy, who simply shrugs.

“We were picking up the drinks and got a little distracted when we were on the way over!”

“Oh right, distracted--”

“Anyway, we brought tequila!” Daisy chirps, flashing the unopened bottle to you. You grin back. Your friends really know you. “Let’s get this party started!”

The pre-game starts off strong with everyone taking shots at your insistence. About three shots later, everyone is in a good mood to start getting ready to leave for the club (except Lily, who seems to already be there from the way she is dancing). Johnny attempts to copy her moves, causing Yuta and Daisy to fall over each other as they laugh loudly. You’re about to join the impromptu dance floor when you feel a hand slip into yours.

You barely have time to smile at Doyoung before he twirls you around, leaving you giggling and breathless. Then, without a word, he guides you out onto the balcony, where he pulls you into his arms. There is something sobering about the soft night air, which isn’t quite the vibe you’re going for. Your laugh cuts through the stillness of the atmosphere. “Doyoung, what are you--”

The way he is looking at you with so much affection makes your heart do a somersault in your chest. “Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers in that delicate, melodic voice of his. Suddenly, he pulls away so that you see that he is holding a large, flat case. He hands it to you, eyes sparkling excitedly. Your eyes, on the other hand, suddenly prick with several tears.

“Wh-what is this?”

“A surprise. Open it!”

With shaky hands, you open the case to reveal a beautiful, gold necklace with a simple diamond-encrusted pendant. You gasp. “Doyoung, you--” your voice gets caught in your throat. “You got this for me? It’s gorgeous, but you really sh-shouldn’t have. I--”

“Yes, I should have,” he laughs, seeing how emotional you’ve gotten. Doyoung pulls you into his embrace and presses a soft kiss to your temple before looking down to meet your eyes. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you whisper hoarsely, leaning up to peck him on the lips. You let out a sniffle. “You spoil me.”

“Of course I do, you’re my baby,” he says matter-of-factly. You giggle through your tears and hug him tighter.

And as beautiful as the necklace is, you can’t help but feel that being loved by Kim Doyoung is the best surprise present that life has given you.

#nct #nct 127 #nct 127 scenarios #doyoung #doyoung scenarios #doyoung imagines #doyoung fluff #doyoung fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff

97 notes · View notes

watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Travelling Riverside Blues

This was written for @deangirl93‘s 500 follower celebration (congrats bby!!)! I absolutely HAD to jump on one of Dean’s favorite songs. It’s fluffy and cute; I had some earlier seasons Winchesters in mind for it mostly for the lighthearted bickering.

Title: Travelling Riverside Blues

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1273

Summary: On the way to a case, Dean and the reader talk about Dean’s favorite song while Sam tries to finish some research.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, brother bickering, mutual pining?

“I think this—”

“—Is my favorite song,” you and Sam finish in tandem, Sam’s tone a mixture of bored and annoyed and he doesn’t even look up from his book as you grin into the rearview mirror at Dean. Dean’s offense reads perfectly clearly in the sliver of his face you can see in the mirror, and the betrayed bend in his eyebrows makes you laugh out loud.

“You say that literally every time this song comes on. Which is all the time, because it’s your favorite song.”

“I do not,” he says defensively, flicking his gaze back to the road.

You tip forward to rest your chin on folded forearms between the Winchesters in the front seat. You can see Sam has made pretty good progress on his notes, small spiral notebook on his lap getting quickly filled with page numbers and quotes from the old book he has balanced on his knee. “Dean, yes you do. It’s okay though, it’s a good song.”

“Of course it’s a fucking good song, it’s Zeppelin. You know what, forget it. You guys make conversation then.”

“I’m trying to finish this before we get there, Dean, forgive me if I’m not playing I Spy with you or whatever,” Sam says, not breaking his concentration at all by writing through the words. It’ll never stop amazing you how he can focus on two things so completely like that.

“I’ll play I Spy with you,” you laugh, trying to keep Sam and Dean from bickering.

“Only things I’m trying to spy are in that backseat, kid.” Dean winks up at you in the rearview mirror and it makes you flush with heat in spite of yourself.

“You guys know I’m still here, right?” Sam murmurs, flipping a page without looking up.

You pitch forward enough to kiss him on the cheek. “Sorry, Sam. Anyway, why is this one your favorite, Dean? Of all Zeppelin, why this one?”

He keeps his eyes on the road for a moment, considering. “I mean, Page’s acoustic slide is unstoppable. But I don’t know, when I was a teenager I really liked that idea. A girl that’ll stick by your side no matter what, ride with you everywhere.”

Sam finally looks up from his notes with put-on fluttering eyelashes. “But Dean, I ride with you everywhere,” he teases, earning him a dead-arm he barely acknowledges before chuckling back into his book. “Besides, I’m pretty sure this song is about a sex worker,” he adds, holding his page with his finger as he goes back to double check a reference.

You can see Dean mouth ‘sex worker?’ in the mirror and try not to laugh again. “All good reasons. Still not as good as Misty Mountain Hop, but good reasons nonetheless.”

“Misty Mountain Hop? Really?” Dean looks genuinely surprised from the part of his face you can see.

You nod but don’t offer any explanation, knowing it’ll wiggle around in the back of Dean’s mind until he finds out why, and slouch into the backseat. “So when teenage Dean was imagining this rider, what was she like?”

Dean shifts in his seat a little bit. “I don’t know, loyal, smart—”

“Easy, jugs like Pam Anderson—” you continued for him with a devilish grin.

Dean laughs. “Sue me for being 16. It’s not like it’s something I think about now, that’s just why it became one of my favorite songs.”

“You don’t think about that anymore? How come?”

Sam and Dean look back at you in tandem with the same incredulousness. You just raise your eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

“I mean, I—now I’ve got you,” Dean says, and it’s more than a little muddled, more than a little shy.

“Yeah, what?” Sam asks. He looks almost like he’s expecting you to say ‘kidding!’. “You’re the rider.”

You must be looking pretty confused, because Dean clears his throat. “Planning on leaving or something?”

“I just—you’ve never said something like that before,” you hum, a little dumbfounded.

Sam raises his eyebrows smugly at Dean but says nothing. Dean clears his throat. “Well, ah, this is me saying something I guess. You’re—what, have you been seeing other people or something?” His gaze flicks hard up to the rearview mirror, swirling mixture of fear and anticipation in the sage green irises of his eyes.

“No, but I haven’t—you’ve never even really technically asked me out.”

“We’ve been fooling around for a while now—” Dean starts, pausing when he sees your disbelieving look and jerk of your chin toward Sam, who glances up.

The smugness hasn’t left Sam’s face. “No way; if you guys make me listen to your bizarre foreplay flirting all the time then I get to hear the good stuff too. Now, would you say that this seems out of the blue because Dean could’ve communicated his feelings to you before?” He’s addressing his comment to you but won’t keep his eyes off his brother, who is furiously trying to keep from acknowledging Sam, his eyes glued to the road.

“Yeah? I don’t know, I just didn’t get the sense that you wanted this to be like, a commitment,” you finish, feeling bashful and exposed from your eternal spot in the backseat.

Sam can’t hold back his smirk any longer, still drilling holes into his brother with his eyes. “Gosh, Dean, if only someone had given you some advice to talk about this months ago, maybe everyone would be on the same page.” When Dean doesn’t move or say anything, Sam throws an elbow over the seat to better face you. “He’s been telling people you’re his girlfriend for months,” he tosses out, waiting a half beat to see your response.

If Dean won’t say anything, Sam obviously seems like he’s in a chatty mood. “Seriously? Like who?”

“Bobby, Jody, guys trying to buy you drinks—”

“Okay, ENOUGH,” Dean barks, and Sam has to bite his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Dean looks up in the rearview mirror. “Sorry I misread the situation. I thought you wanted—”

“I do,” you breathe from the backseat, making Dean turn around hard enough that he twists the wheel a touch and Sam has to grab it lest the car goes veering into the drainage ditch to the side of the rural highway.

“Really?” Dean asks, eyes bright and wide with hope and half a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, still looking back at you.

“Eyes on the road, Andretti,” you giggle, feeling the tension start to dissipate as Dean turns back to his seat with a goofy grin. “Yes, of course I do. I’ve wanted to be your girlfriend this whole time, dummy. I didn’t think you did that kind of thing, that’s the only reason I didn’t push it.”

“Wow, it’s almost as if someone could’ve—” Sam starts again.

This time Dean is feeling a little more charitable and only shoves Sam half-heartedly. “Yeah, whatever,” he chuckles. The bashfulness on his face makes him look impossibly young for a moment, carefree and unencumbered—happy.

“Ah, ah!” Sam protests, raising his eyebrows expectantly with a grin.

“You were right, okay? Jesus, Sammy, give it a rest!” Dean’s trying to seem annoyed but he can’t stop from smiling.

The three of you sit in giggling, giddy sunlight as the car flies down the highway for a few minutes, warming yourselves from within on the vitamin D and the mood. “So I’m the rider, huh?” you ask, somewhat rhetorically. “Maybe I like this song better than Misty Mountain Hop after all.”

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchest09 @winchestergirl2 @samwisethegr8 @nobxdy @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @fairlyspnfanfic @treat-winchesterswith-kindness

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

232 notes · View notes

loupettes · 3 years

Text

Some Ten/Rose domestic fluff for the DoctorRose Fic Marathon, mostly to soothe my mental health but who doesn’t need more Ten/Rose in their lives?

T W E N T Y O N E

SUMMARY: Ten/Rose. It's Rose's twenty-first birthday, and she's invited the Doctor along to a party thrown by her mum. A night of pub celebrations, boisterous friends and family gatherings, quizzes, a little bit of jealousy and some hard truths ahead, the Doctor must grit and bear the domesticity for his best friend — well, the love of his life. If only there was something to make it worthwhile..

TAGS: fluff, domestic, romance, jealousy, pub quizzes, everyone loves Rose Tyler (the Doctor being top of that list), mutual pining, longing, etc etc

Read on AO3: twenty one

***

“See you’ve found a way to pass the time,” she muttered once Laura was out of earshot, slipping her arm out from his and grabbing the napkin from the bar. She looked at it distacefully for a moment, before she passed the napkin to him.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

He couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly, she seemed irritated, and when Laura put the drink in front of her and begrudgingly took the tenner from the Doctor, Rose seemed to only sadden as she swirled her straw around in her drink.

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

Rose looked at her drink for a moment, a pinch in her brow that he couldn’t translate. It wasn’t indifference, it wasn’t even the irritation she was projecting on her voice, but he wasn’t fond of it, he knew that much.

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

***

It was one of those days, the ones he hadn’t really ever had to subject himself to in his many years of life, and he calls them ‘obligatory domestics’. The kinds of days where he needs to drop Rose off so she can do a bit of ‘life admin’: check in on her grandparents, nip to primark to get some basics, cash her birthday cheques, all that sort of stuff.

And then, of course, there were the days he needed to attend parties.

Now, he wasn’t a party person. Awkward small talk, terrible music — depending on the decade, of course — dreadful finger food, that annoying needless obligation to stay and ‘enjoy yourself’ when all you really wanted to do was leave. This was one of those days where Rose had a party to attend, and had asked him to just drop her off back at home for the night and they could get back to travelling the next day.

The problem was, it was her birthday party.

Now, if it were his birthday — if he even had a birthday — then he wouldn’t exactly call it a mark for celebration. Not even at the turn of a new century, and he most certainly wouldn’t call turning a thousand a celebration, which he was sure was coming up soon. And the funny thing was, Rose didn’t feel the need to celebrate birthdays, either. Well, unless they were somebody else’s; she would go out of her way to make that day astronomically special for them. So when she had turned to him last week, when they were out enjoying a milkshake in a diner on Panvorix, and told him, regrettably, that her mum wanted to throw her a birthday party with her friends and family for her twenty-first, which he was sure meant something to humans, he wondered whether he really needed to be there.

But, and this is where he finds it difficult: he somehow knew she wanted him there. She hadn’t explicitly said so, she had just sort of shrugged and said ‘you can come, too, although I doubt you’ll want to’. But other than that, she had talked about it as though she was going to go, not they. And if he only paid attention to her words and what she was saying, like he thought most humans — and, well, every other species in existence — did, then he would have felt no obligation whatsoever to join her. But these humans, and especially the British, have this odd sort of way of communicating where they would say one thing with words but also without them, and usually, the things they weren’t saying was quite different to the things that they were. And it seemed as though this was the case with Rose. Her lack of eye contact, the slight reddening in her neck, the indifference that he just knew wasn’t as indifferent as she would have liked it to be. She’d slurped her milkshake and changed the subject and that was that — no need to dwell. But once she had gone to bed that night, he wondered. He tinkered away in the control room and tried to interpret all those little things and he just couldn’t, so he gave up and decided to take her for her word. So he told himself, if she brings it up again, if she asks-but-doesn’t-ask him to come, then he’ll go with her. Otherwise, he’ll leave her with her mum for the night and come back for her the next day as she asked.

That was until Jackie called.

“You’re coming,” she had said flatly, and she had said it in such a frighteningly threatening way that he only nodded and agreed.

Rose had seemed most happy when he had said they were getting to her mum’s for midday on Saturday. She had quickly tried to hide it, and once more he got the impression that she was only acting nonchalant. But he wasn't quite sure, so he double checked just to be safe.

“You sure you want me there?”

She had frowned, and again shrugged without looking at him. “Course, you’re my best mate.”

And so here he was. Waiting in the control room for her, in a blue suit this time, while she packed her things in an overnight bag.

Today was her actual birthday. Her mum had called her all excited, wishing her a happy birthday — even though she was about to see her in a couple of hours. The Doctor had made her a cup of tea and said happy birthday, too, but Rose’s cheeks had flushed pink and he took that to mean that was enough making-a-fuss over her birthday for the day. Other than that, he hadn’t seen her all morning, and so when she entered the control room freshly showered and now in her jeans and a hoodie, her backpack slung over her shoulders, she grinned quite sheepishly and said,

“Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, a little less nervously. “All packed and ready, then?”

“I am indeed,” she nodded, and skipped over to him with a bit more gusto. “You mentally prepared?”

‘Oh, absolutely not.”

“Me neither,” she chuckled, and tugged on his arm. “You didn’t see mum on my eighteenth — she gets several octaves higher, just to warn you.”

He shuddered. “Well, lucky for you— and me, I suppose— my capacity to detect high pitches gets less and less with each passing century.”

“That’s good to know.”

After they had gone to Nando’s for lunch, Jackie had asked the Doctor to join her and help set up at the pub while Rose got ready back at the flat with a couple of her mates. He hadn’t been in love with the idea — a few hours alone with Jackie filling him in on the gossip of somebody called ‘Bev’ while various 90s pop songs echoed through the room, that was — and she certainly did like to talk when she was excited. They had pinned a few ‘Happy 21st Birthday!’ banners around the room, chucked a lot of small plastic ‘21’s across the floor and the bar, and, by the time Rose called to say she was on her way, the room had filled with quite a lot of people indeed. Some family members he was sure he had met before, little kids of cousins he definitely hadn’t, and a few of Rose’s friends who seemed to know her family quite well. It was the first time that day he had sort of warmed, seeing that Rose had grown up with such a loving group of friends and extended family, and he even loosened just a little as he chatted to a few while they waited for Rose to turn up.

“Everybody, she’s at the bottom of the road!” Jackie called out loudly, when she received a text from Shareen. At that, people picked up nearby birthday poppers and whistles, getting to their feet with excited and anticipatory smiles — the Doctor even had a confetti cannon himself ready to go for when she walked in.

But of course, when she did walk in, he couldn’t do anything at all except look at her.

As people called out excited ‘happy birthday!'s and set off their poppers, the Doctor found himself completely anchored to the spot while the room only burst with colour and into life. He had always found her quite beautiful, especially when she was giggling away or saying something particularly clever, and he had even found himself breathless once or twice to watch her. But tonight, goodness — he wasn’t convinced he had two bloody hearts because neither one was beating and certainly neither of them were supplying oxygen to the rest of his body.

It was her smile, without a doubt. It was different somehow, like an old smile he was sure she must have used before she met him, to see all these familiar faces of her loved ones. That, and her cheeks were dusted a delightful pink, a little shy he knew she must have been to have so many people around her for her. Her hair was wavy for once, and she wore a black dress that the Doctor was momentarily ashamed to find himself looking at; the way it sculpted her curves and defined the most enchanting silhouette, cut mid-thigh and exposing her legs — and he was especially ashamed for his gaze to linger on those, but she was simply so exquisite, everywhere, that he soon felt instead the same overwhelming awe he gets when he studies a painting, ones in which the colours tell a compelling story and the shapes express feelings that words could not completely.

He still hadn’t managed to find his breath by the time she caught his eye, and he found himself desperately trying to cling to coherent thoughts when she nervously made her way over to him.

“Hello,” she said again when she got to him, pausing for a moment before she reached up on her toes to give him a hug. He had just enough semblance of normality to return the gesture, albeit weakly — still trying to process his thoughts as he was.

Tell her!

“Happy birthday,” he whispered instead, and he heard her giggle by his ear before she released him, and there was a moment where he could have told her just how breathtaking she looked, but of course, he didn’t.

Instead, she scratched her arm and looked around the room. “Thanks for helping mum set all this up.”

“Oh, right—” he cleared his throat “— sure, no probs.”

“You’ll have to fill me in on all the gossip later.”

“Don’t worry, I took notes.”

She chuckled, and her eyes softened as she looked at him, taking him in, and they seemed to even darken somehow, which sent an odd sort of sense of affirmation through him — he was right not to shave today, then.

“Listen, er—” she began, her brow creasing in awkwardness, and she started scratching her arm again. He watched her curiously, wondering what she was about to say and feeling strangely nervous, all of a sudden. “Please don’t — I mean, thank you for coming, it— I just wanted to say please don’t stay, if you don’t want to— if you’re feeling awkward or anything just feel free to, you know—”

“Rose, it’s alright,” he grinned, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be alright.”

“I know, I just didn’t want the last of the Time Lords to perish here in this pub in Southwark out of boredom.”

“Yeah, would be a dreadful end to their race I must admit.”

“Not one for the textbooks,” she giggled. “Nor one I’d particularly like on my conscience, either.”

“Blimey, you’re right — lot riding on the entertainment this evening, then.”

“Well in that case, I should remind you that mum planned this party.”

“Oh,” he groaned, and sighed defeatedly while she only continued to chuckle. “It’s just a couple of hours. I can do it.”

He sort of regretted saying that. Well, no, he definitely regretted saying that.

He’d spent the first hour or so meeting Rose’s family, and then after that getting to know five or six of Rose’s friends, sat around in a booth. They were all friendly enough, inviting him in as one of their own and of course, he thought, Rose’s friends would be charming, since they were Rose’s friends after all.

And then there was Callum, he thinks his name was, and at first the Doctor was able to maintain a calm composure despite his irritability when the lad put his arm around Rose, but after twenty minutes or so and he still hadn’t moved, the Doctor started to sincerely regret his decision to come here tonight and wondered whether he could quietly slip away and narrowly avoid some other, less painful end. But then Rose would give him that look, that smile that just seemed to settle him if only for the fact that it was hers. And so he stayed, listening to stories of their school days and joining in with their laughter until it became just a little too much, when Callum started whispering things to Rose when nobody else was paying attention. Rose didn’t seem particularly bothered by him, nor was she giving off any signs that she was uncomfortable, but he certainly seemed to have more of an agenda than she, and just enough that it pissed the Doctor off enough for him to excuse himself to get a drink instead.

“Just a Coke, thanks,” he said as he reached the bar, but the bartender looked back at him apologetically.

“Pepsi alright?” she said.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment because why would he want a Pepsi if he was ordering a Coke—

“Just kidding,” she grinned, reaching down for a glass and picking up a glass bottle of Coke. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh,” he only half smiled, and loosened his tie just a little to finally just be able to breathe. “Well, that’s a relief.”

“You look like you could use something stronger, though.”

“Do I?” he frowned, somewhat surprised but not entirely that he must look exhausted to others. It was exhausting, realising that he was far too in love for his own good. But the bartender didn’t look like she thought that, not at all, as she grinned over to him.

“Parties don’t really seem like your sort of thing.”

He shook his head, resting his elbows on the bar. “No, not really.”

“So what is your thing, then?”

Earth wasn’t quite ready for the question to be answered with ‘time travel, mostly’, so he flustered a little in search of an answer more reasonable for the time period. “I tried soap carving, once. That was fun.”

She looked back at him completely confused for a moment, and he only added the admission to the long list of things he was regretting about this evening, before she gave him a friendly smile.

“Not something I would have expected you to say.”

When the Doctor only shook his head in hopeless exasperation, she grinned,

“I’m Laura, by the way.”

“John,” he retorted, as she placed the Coke in front of him.

“Nice to meet you John — this one’s on me.”

It took him a second to realise she had just bought him a drink — of Coke — but a common gesture nonetheless he was sure indicated flirting. “Oh— er, thanks.”

She nodded, but didn’t turn to serve any of the other guests, not that it was all that busy up at the bar, anyway. “So, John. Did you, er, come here with anyone tonight?”

As dreadful to admit as it was, he couldn’t say that he had. And it seemed so odd to him to think about, because he went everywhere with Rose, but he had never been anywhere with her. It wasn’t really something he had ever considered, whether he would like to start going places with Rose as his and he as hers, but now, as he thought about Rose with that slimy little git behind him, he rather wished that he didn’t have to fret. Not about the dreadful moment she tells him tonight that she’s going back to Callum's, and not about any other time in the future she would admit to having fallen in love with somebody else. It wasn’t a possessive thing, he didn’t want for nobody else to want her because she was his, but he wanted to just love her and be free to; no more of this pining and hiding and instead just be able to say that he was so terribly in love with her and that wasn’t going to change, no matter how much he wanted it to. Except he highly doubted she would want that, this nine-bloody-hundred-year-old alien who had murdered and cowered to be hopelessly devoted to her when she didn’t exactly ask for it. So, he swallowed, feeling his hearts sink in defeat as he did.

“No. Just me.”

Laura’s lips curled in triumph, and she leant in a little bit closer. “In that case, what are you doing tonight?”

If he was just that little bit less in love, he might have been tempted, he had to admit. But he was far beyond the point now of needing a distraction to this dreadful torment, he was much too in love with Rose to even be able to be distracted in the first place. Yet, he couldn’t quite find his voice to decline, so he only started to fluster as he broke eye contact, and took a sip of his drink in the meantime.

“Tell you what,” she smirked, taking a napkin from the bar and began to scribble something on it. “I finish at eleven-thirty. Here’s my number, just in case.”

As he helplessly watched her, he felt somebody put their arm through his as they approached the bar from behind, and was somewhat mortified to find Rose appear beside him. She looked quite peculiar indeed, an expression he had seen a couple of times aimed directly at the woman in front of her, and he glanced down in confusion when she placed her other hand on his arm.

“Malibu and Coke, please.”

Laura looked over to her, then down to her arm, then back up with a look that only seemed to mirror Rose’s. “Got any ID?”

Rose scoffed. “This is my party, you know.”

“Can’t serve you unless you’ve got ID.”

“Tell you what—” the Doctor interrupted, reaching into his pocket for the psychic paper as he heard Rose about to counter “—this one’s on me. Can’t have the birthday girl paying for her own drinks.”

Laura only looked back at him in disillusionment, her eyes flickered back to Rose. “Okay, but it was just you I was buying the drink for.”

Rose scoffed incredulously, and wrapped her arms around the Doctor’s only tighter as the two women seemed to be engaging in a fight without actually fighting. Or from what he could tell, anyway.

“Enduring terrible flirting and being come on to is just one of the many things I’m voluntarily subjecting myself to to be here with you tonight.”

“How hard that must be for you.”

“Just didn’t think you were interested in this sort of stuff, s’all,” she shrugged.

He frowned; he assumed she must have meant flirting. “I’m not.”

“Only got eyes for you, promise.”

She seemed to only laugh in spite of herself at his words, and seemed to receive his joke — although he couldn’t be certain he had meant it to be one. She looked up at him through those devilishly long eyelashes of hers and he tried desperately to think of just about anything to say to change the subject.

“Having a nice night?”

Rose pulled up a bar stool and hoisted herself up, wiggling about to get comfortable. “S’been nice, yeah. So many mates I haven't seen in forever — not since we all went to get our GCSEs.”

He gazed to the side of her in thought. “Five years ago, that must be now?”

She raised her eyebrow, but didn’t smile. “Yeah. Can’t believe it.”

She started poking at the ice in her drink now, but not consciously. She was distracted, seemingly saddened by the thoughts running through her mind. He watched her hand, her nails recently painted, wearing the ring her mum had got her for her birthday.

“I’m twenty-one,” she almost whimpered.

“Wait till you get to nine-hundred.”

He was relieved to hear her laugh, a real one, and she glanced at him with kind eyes, her eyes, not those strangely woeful ones she looked at her glass with. “Yeah. If ever I’m feeling old, I’ll just think about you instead.”

“There are some benefits to being ancient, then.”

She giggled, and it only seemed to tickle her more until he saw her completely, Rose as he knew her returned back to him. It relieved him, and he realised he had stiffened to see her so glum. She glanced once more down at the napkin and he sighed, unsure exactly what she was thinking, before something told him to lift up her glass and place it underneath instead. She turned to him with a shy smile, her lips thin as she tried to hide whatever emotion was surfacing, and she was unable to hold his gaze for long when she leaned against him to nudge his arm with hers. An apology, he guessed, and he himself tittered in response. She was less saddened certainly, but her silence was not quite unburdened, so he sought,

“What’s on your mind?”

“Hmm?”

“You,” he said softly. “I know you don’t like your birthday, but something’s up.”

She once more gave him one of those thin smiles, a smile he recognised was one she was trying to put on for him but unsuccessfully — he knew her, afterall. She sighed, and shook her head.

“Everyone’s… it’s just so strange. Being back, after having been away. Things have just… happened. Like Charlie’s had a baby, can’t believe it. She’s younger than me.”

So that was it. He felt an odd sense of guilt in the centre of his chest that only sank lower, and he realised she had only been confronted with how much she had missed since travelling with him. How much she was missing out on, and how much he had taken from her while he only wanted to keep her for himself. But he didn’t suppose she needed his self-loathing tonight, so instead, he frowned as he thought.

“Charlie’s your…” he began, trying to remember as he scanned the room.

“Cousin.”

“Right,” he nodded. He was surprised to find her watching him with a gentle smile when he looked back at her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she grinned, sheepishly, looking down briefly as her smile only grew less so and slightly more endeared, might he say, instead. “Just you, trying to learn all my family and friends.”

“Trying being the keyword there — there’s a lot of them.”

“I know, but it’s funny,” she teased, that tongue sticking out of her teeth that he had to quickly avert his gaze from, “You can remember something complex and yet still get lost remembering the names of my family.”

“My mind sadly is not a TARDIS,” he jibed, and she chortled delightfully into her glasses as she took a sip. “Everytime I have to remember one of your cousin’s names, I have to forget about something else. I’ve forgotten Einstein’s special relativity equation to remember you have an Aunt called Jeanette.”

“Well, that's a bummer for relativity, because my Aunt’s called June.”

He frowned at her, momentarily fooled, before he rolled his eyes. “No she’s not.”

Rose scoffed with her mouth agape in shock. “Yes she is!”

As she giggled away, he vaguely recalled meeting a month, before his eyes widened and he blinked in defeat.

“Blimey, right then.”

Rose put her drink back down on the bar and struggled to contain her giggles and, goodness, he simply couldn’t look away. Her eyes scrunched shut, her nose wrinkled and smile so bright, she was impossibly beautiful when she was like this, her laughter sounding so pure and so wonderfully joyous. He wasn’t convinced she was laughing solely at his complete inability to remember anything remotely related to something so important as her family, because he only imagined it to be quite disappointing, but he wasn’t about to step in and stop her, especially not when he felt his own smile begin to grow at seeing her this way. She shook her head and opened her eyes as her giggles subsided but smile remained and she looked at him in the most breathtaking way and he could feel himself falling, needing to physically stop himself from leaning in closer to her.

There was a moment, one terribly long agonising moment, where he thought he might just falter. Despite everything inside him begging him not to, he found himself unable to hear himself when her eyes locked with his in such a way, in fact, the only thing that was able to prevent him from kissing her was knowing how terribly awkward it would be when she pulls back, wondering what on Earth he was thinking to presume she would want him to kiss her. So he swallowed, and looked away, back down at his drink and he took another sip.

Thankfully, before he had a chance to make a fool of himself and try to string a sentence together, he was interrupted by a voice sounding from a microphone behind them. They both turned, and, over at the corner of the pub stood two of Rose’s girlfriends, both of whom he remembered were with them at the table earlier, standing with a few pieces of card in their hands.

“Ahem — can we have everyone’s attention, please?” one of them — he was sure her name was Grace — announced, a smug anticipatory smile donned her slightly flushed face, and the room went quiet a moment before the music turned down, too. “Hi! Good evening, everyone! So, in case you aren’t all aware yet, today is our very own Rosie Tyler’s twenty-first birthday!”

The room broke into applause, a few cheers and the odd wolf whistle as many turned to look at Rose beside him.

He teased quietly only to her, “Rosie?”

“Shut up,” she muttered as she elbowed him, but couldn’t stop grinning despite herself. “Little gits know I hate being called Rosie.”

“So before we get started, a very happy birthday to you!” the other girl — Cara, was it? There goes Euler’s equation, he surrendered — said into the microphone. “We hope you’re having a great night, and we love you—”

“Even if she did nick my GHDs.”

Rose snorted when Grace stuck her tongue out at her. “I did not! I just forgot to give them back to you!”

“Hmm, how convenient— anyway,” Grace stressed, and the room was chuckling to their playful teasing. “We thought we might play a little game, before we start the, er, slideshow in a bit—”

“Oh, god,” Rose muttered under her breath, and the Doctor sniggered quietly.

“— just a quick ‘How well do you know Rose Tyler’ quiz. No teams, no competition, strictly for embarrassment purposes alone.”

“Get me out of here,” Rose whispered to him, but he stayed firmly put.

“Oh, absolutely not. I’m staying for this.”

“Then I’m going to fly your ship myself and leave you here stranded.”

“Fine by me, I want to see all those pictures you’ve been so adamant remain hidden away in a box every time we go round to your mum’s.”

She groaned, and hid her face in her palms.

“So, without further ado: question one.” Grace paused for dramatic effect, reading the words on her paper with a teasing smile. “What was the name of Rose’s first boyfriend?”

“Oh my god, my mum’s here—”

“Jimmy!” one of her friends shouted, and the Doctor felt Rose bury her face against his arm.

“No,” she whispered, about the same time Grace called out,

“Incorrect!”

“Craig David!” a male voice shouted, and Rose groaned loudly as the room went quiet.

“That is correct!”

The Doctor scoffed next to her as the rest of the room erupted into laughter. “Oh, come on.”

“Rose absolutely believed she and Craig David were meant to be back in year six, and told everyone they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Cara giggled, and the Doctor only chuckled to hear Rose repeatedly whispering ‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god’ into his arm.

“Had to get her a poster!” Jackie called with a squeal of delight.

“Get me— you’re a Time Lord for god’s sake, go back in time and stop this from all happening!” Rose urged.

“Not a chance.”

“Question two!” And once more, the room went quiet in anticipation. “And a little less embarrassing, maybe—”

“Thank God,” Rose mumbled. At that point, he couldn’t really stop himself from giving her arm a gentle stroke.

“— Which film was Rose obsessed with at the beginning of secondary school?”

“Easy! Back to the Future!” another one of her friends called out.

The Doctor scoffed, “You’re kidding?”

Rose pulled away, then, unashamed. “Marty Mcfly, hottest fictional character in the world, I stand by it.”

“If I dress up in that puffer vest and the TARDIS gets her act together to disguise as a DeLorean, are we just playing out your secondary school fantasy?”

“Why do you think you had me so hooked with ‘did I mention it also travels in time’?”

“And that is correct!” Grace called, and just on queue, The Power of Love began to play through the speakers. Rose shook her head, and broke into a timid but unabashed smile.

“How many gigawatts to travel in time, Rose?” Grace called.

“One point twenty-one!” she volleyed, unashamed.

“Is that all? I’ll remember that for next time,” the Doctor whispered, and she elbowed him with a smirk.

“Question three — and sorry, Jackie — but why did Rose get two weeks of detention in year eleven?”

“Oh my god no!”

“Two weeks!” The Doctor kept his exclamation hushed, and once more Rose turned back around to face the other side of the bar, but he tugged on her arm to bring her back around, leaving her unable to hide her embarrassment and red hot cheeks.

“For skipping maths to snog Jimmy in the art room!”

“Rose!” Jackie gasped loudly as the room cheered.

“This is the worst thing that has ever happened in my life ever,” she groaned to the Doctor, and he only found her that much more gorgeous as she looked so delightfully mortified.

“That is correct!”

Rose whimpered quietly to the Doctor as the rest of the room erupted into laughter, “Please do that thing again where you make me forget all of my memories.”

“The snog wasn’t that great, then?”

She shuddered. “Far too much tongue.”

“How delightful,” he chuckled, feeling a peculiar sense of victory.

“Question four!” Grace called, and waited for the room to settle. “Which medal did Rose win in the county gymnastics?”

“The bronze!” the Doctor called, surprised but unashamed for calling out himself, and the room roared in cheer and a thunderous applause broke out.

“And quite right!” Cara hailed into the microphone, and Rose bumped arms with the Doctor.

“Was only the bronze,” she mumbled.

“Hey!” he denounced, “The bronze is bloody excellent!”

Her smile was thin and bashful and begged to be attended to; he responded without thinking by pulling her into his side and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Okay, okay, our last and final question—” somebody at one of the nearby tables began to perform a drum roll as Grace paused to read the card “— What did Rose do on her eighteenth birthday?”

“Get absolutely hammered?” someone suggested, and by the way Rose only hid herself further into his chest and shook her head, he imagined they were right.

“More detail needed!” Grace called.

“My whole family’s here,” she whimpered quietly.

“How PG are we keeping it?” one of the boys from the table they were all sitting at earlier shouted, and they giggled amongst themselves.

“Oh god, was it that bad?” he whispered to her, but she just kept shaking her head.

“More PG than your eighteenth, Liam,” Cara pointed out, to which Liam held his hands up in his surrender.

“Didn’t you throw up at Tottenham Court Road bus stop?”

“That was not me!” Rose called out, releasing her hold on the Doctor. He folded his arms, now very aware that the rest of the room was looking at them. “That was Shareen!”

Shareen gasped somewhere in the crowd. “You little grass!” She slammed her hand down on the table and stood up. “And for that, I’m breaking my silence — on Rose’s eighteenth birthday, she got drunk and performed ‘Steps, Tragedy’ up on a table on Carnaby Street in front of the entire street with accompanying dance moves — and she fell down at the end.”

“And we have the video to play to you all later!” Cara beamed, just as the room erupted into an excited cheer.

Rose shrieked in protest, her cheeks burning red and the Doctor only cackled at the image of Rose drunkenly bearing her heart and soul out to what he knew was her favourite girl band of the 90s, so he could only imagine how animated that performance must have been. People had got to their feet, cheering and clapping as Rose hid her face in her palms and Tragedy began to blare through the speakers. Some chanted along, some were too lost in their own giggling and retelling of old anecdotes, and some flocked to Rose to give her gleeful hugs and cheer her on. But something about it saddened him all of a sudden, watching as Rose was swallowed up by the love of her friends so fierce and unashamed, a dull and remorseful ache somewhere in his chest that he couldn’t quite place but certainly didn’t like.

He turned back around and spotted Laura, now leaning against the back bar, and he caught her eye.

“I’ll take that stronger drink, now.”

She glanced over at Rose, now completely lost to the crowd, then back at him, and nodded.

He didn’t drink often, not at all, so he insisted only on a single, handing Laura a fiver and telling her to keep the change. He got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and slipped quietly outside and into the pub garden.

The night was pleasant, the stars for once visible over London, but he imagined most might not catch them so clearly amidst the surrounding light pollution. There were strings of warm fairy lights hanging from the brick wall that surrounded the quite large garden, a few pub benches dotted around with even less people quietly chatting amongst themselves over a beer and the odd cigarette. What encouraged him the most was the quiet, the peacefulness that greeted him as he stepped out of the pub, sitting down on one of the vacant tables just under a tree with yet more fairy lights hanging from it.

He sighed deeply, but he found he wasn’t quite fully able to breathe in all the way, like something caged his chest and prevented it from fully expanding. He took a sip of the — what he discovered was — whiskey and shuddered to feel its heat trickle down his throat, settling something that had been rising in his body all night. He looked down at his hands, quivering now although he was not cold, and swallowed thickly.

He was in love, he had known that for a long time. But tonight he had realised how terribly irrevocable it was, how awfully trapped he had made himself in his dreadful and unavoidable addiction to her, how he had known this was going to be devastating and he was going to regret it but yet hadn’t cared. And now here he sat, alone as he always was and always would be, wondering just how he might survive this in the end.

It wasn’t that he worried about the day she would no longer be with him, although that wasn’t a thought he liked to entertain. It was this horrible ache, a dullness in his bones, a contradiction to the life she inspired within him. It was twisted, it was confusing, and it was devastating.

He looked up at the stars, a universe above him that he knew and yet didn’t. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and following another subsequent involuntary shudder, he closed his eyes to the return of that hollowness in his chest. The vacuum above felt infinitely small in comparison, and he knew there was no fighting it’s torture except to grit and bear it for as long as she stayed with him, and even longer than that.

He didn’t shudder when he took a third sip of his drink.

He had been so lost in his thoughts for so long that he only realised the environment had altered when a figure sat beside him. There were less people now he realised, only one or two at a table a few away from his, but none of that seemed to matter when he saw it was Rose who had sat down next to him.

“You alright?” she asked.

“Hmm?”

She shivered, and looked down at his drink. “Bit too much back in there, yeah?”

He couldn't reply at first, but his lie found his tongue at the time that he swallowed. “Na, it’s been alright. Just needed five outside in the quiet.”

Rose grinned, a warm smile he knew well, and shivered once more. The goosebumps began to line her skin, soft hairs rising on her arms, and he glanced down at her things to see the same pattern emerging there. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, attentively hanging it over her shoulders and she looked down with a smile, pulling it tighter around her.

“Thanks,” she whispered, a soft sound that settled on the air and he closed his eyes to it, trying to still what it did to his hearts. Once more, he breathed deeply, now that he could as she sat close to him, and when he opened his eyes on his exhale he saw her looking down at the table, mulling over something in her mind.

“Are you alright?” he murmured, and she closed her eyes to that.

“Mmm. Just needed to step out — don’t like havin’ all the attention on me, you know that.”

Funny, he thought, if she knew just how much she claimed all of his attention, his thoughts and dreams, his hopes and longings, even down to his physiology and heartbeat, she would flee.

Her legs had started to bounce — anxiously or because they were cold, he didn’t know — but he found himself looking at a mole on her thigh, one he of course had never seen before. He closed his eyes once more in a desperate plea to try and stop the thoughts from drowning him, of how much he wanted to see every piece of her, to know all her moles and the feel of her skin under his fingers, to learn her and know her in a way nobody else did or ever could possibly again.

“Y’know, I remember the first time you met all my family, when we were huddled in my mum’s living room watching the telly,” she grinned, and her voice encouraged him to avert his gaze, and, thankfully, his thoughts. “Said you didn’t do domestics and all that.”

“I still don’t,” he pointed out, and she sniggered. “I have no idea how I keep finding myself in these situations so often.”

“I think you like them, really.”

“I like you, there’s a difference.”

She chuckled, “So if I’m understanding you correctly, the last of the Time Lords bends to nobody’s will except mine?”

“You understood that correctly, yes.”

Her gleeful hum in response was enough for him to let her believe he was exaggerating. After a minute or two, she spoke again.

“I used to come here all the time. Most Thursdays after work. Sometimes it’d be all of us — it was quite central for where we all worked — and sometimes it’d just be me and Mickey.”

He grimaced as she rubbed salt into the wound unknowingly. He was reluctant to admit to himself just how many hours he had spent thinking about them, of their dates in the park and stolen kisses in her lunch break, of nights spent together and mornings in love. He glanced back down at the mole on her leg and knew of course he wasn’t going to know her as nobody else did, he never could even if he did ever give in to his hearts.

“It’s like a different life,” she sighed. “I always thought this sort of stuff would hit you in your thirties, lookin’ back over your school days and realising how much had changed since then. But I’m twenty-one, and it feels like a completely different me and it was only two years ago!”

He was still while she spoke what was on her mind. He didn’t get the feeling that she regretted it so much, and he was a little relieved at that. But he thought perhaps it was more the speed of time passing that stunned her, her perspective of it all shifting and she wasn’t quite ready for it. As a Time Lord, he so wished he could slow it down for her, make it just that little bit more manageable because, truthfully, it terrified him sometimes, too.

“It’s only that you fill your life with so much that it feels that way,” he tried, and she sniffed in the cold. “It feels a bit like time passed you by because, well, it has. You didn’t even see it go, you were far too busy moving and adapting but it passed, at the same rate it always does. But you didn’t.”

She frowned, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I suppose you would give me some nonsensical explanation of time that oddly makes sense.”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

“Really?” She scrunched her nose. “I thought you were here to protect time.”

“Whoever told you that?”

She rolled her eyes with a more symmetrical smile now, her hands moving to cover her face as she attempted to hide just how funny she found his joke. “If it’s this bad at twenty-one, must be bloody awful for you.”

He inhaled sharply, making her giggle more. “The trick is not to think about it.”

“Take each day as it comes,” she reflected, and he hummed beside her in agreement. “They were right, all those adults. Everytime they said to live each day to the fullest.”

“That they were.”

And then she seemed to sadden again. After a moment, and with a quiver to her voice, she whispered,

“If only it didn’t make time pass faster that way.”

He nodded slowly in agreement, although he protested she be thinking such morose concepts on her twenty-first birthday. She began to pick at the skin around her nails, the nail polish on her thumb had chipped and he knew she must have been doing this all night, then.

“Why don’t you like your own birthdays?” he asked, realising that he never had.

She shrugged. “I used to love my birthdays. Birthday cakes, party bags, trips to the London Fields Lido and all that stuff.”

“Then what changed?”

She hesitated, and frowned. He waited while she thought, but he realised at some point she wasn’t searching for the answer, she was only debating whether to give it to him. Eventually, she swallowed, and spoke flatly,

“I met a Time Lord.”

And there it was. He felt his thoughts click into place, then, that strange sadness about her all day that he hadn’t quite been able to interpret finally making sense. It was, truthfully, his biggest regret, although he should have seen it coming, and he only gritted his teeth at his own negligence.

“Rose—”

“No, but think about it,” she insisted, and for once he found himself wanting to listen to her, to hear her worries about something he considered constantly. She seemed too intent on bearing herself to him here, in this garden, on this night, and he could only let her. “Every day I get older—”

“You’re twenty-one, that’s hardly you getting older—”

“But it is!” she retorted, a strange smile that wasn’t a smile by any means only holding back her tears now and he didn't know how they had got here, but his hearts ached to see her like this nonetheless. Her mouth hung open as if to say something else, but she seemed unable to and only let out a small croak instead.

“Hey,” he murmured, and he took the opportunity to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, curling his fingers as he dared himself to brush her cheek. “I do not want you to miss out on any of this because you’re afraid of getting older next to me.”

“M’not afraid of getting older,” she contended plainly. “I’m afraid of leaving you all alone.”

His breath was uneven as he exhaled, but he didn’t think she would have detected it. He dropped his hand back down to the table, and she sniffed wetly, seemingly annoyed by herself for some reason. She bit down on her bottom lip with her eyes closed before she opened them to find his, holding his gaze firm. He saw all of her, then, the things she didn’t want him to see in her eyes even in this light, and he knew she must be seeing all of him, too.

Because it consumed him to learn that this was how she felt. That she regretted each passing day because it was one less day — not that she got to spend with him, but that he had left to spend with somebody. The dreadful wringing of his chest at that, at knowing how much of her life and how many of her days she was spending in fear for his inevitable loneliness when that was only his worry, his concern. Rose wasn’t supposed to feel any of that, much less break her own heart every day, and he realised he must have been doing a terrible job at keeping those worries and concerns to himself. Rose only ever wanted everybody else to be okay, and now, on her twenty-first birthday, she was furious with her own mortality for getting in the way, stopping somebody she cared for so deeply from hurting.

So he had no alternative, really, when he leaned in to her this time. He just about had enough control to pause, give her the chance to pull away if she so wanted, and it seemed as though time completely stopped as he did. He could hear her breathing shallow, see the goosebumps line her neck and he took that moment, those few seconds, to learn her as he had wanted. His eyes found another mole on her collarbone, and upwards, the pulse in her neck at having him this close to her. A quiet and strained whimper on her lips, a plea, and then the feel of those lips against his.

He had always wondered how she would taste. The time he had kissed her on Satellite Five, he had only done so to take the time vortex from her, and for that his senses were mostly dulled. Now, as time slowly began to resume once more, he couldn’t taste a thing either; all he could do was feel. This overwhelming relief surging through him, his hearts beating as they should to feel this alive, and, for a moment, an assertion that nothing could tamper with his hope.

And then she gasped; her mouth opened and that’s when he could finally taste her. And he did, the tip of his tongue finally tasted home as it explored the texture of hers and everything he was learning about her he already knew. Because she was familiar, she was her, he knew her lips already and running his tongue along them told him nothing new about them but yet wanted more even still, to know how her bottom lip felt between his teeth, and he was a quick learner, picking up on the sensitive spots that would draw her moans and which of them would catch her breath in her throat.

His heightened senses had thus far only proven to be most valuable, until now, because she consumed all of him to a point where it was too much, and he had to break away, just to focus. But she didn’t hesitate to keep going, so keen was she on tasting him too, and she trailed her kisses across his cheek and along his jaw and this was new, feeling her learn him with her own senses, the moans she drew out herself at certain points on his skin.

“Rose,” he breathed, a plea and a promise in itself, and she brought their lips back together once more.

She began to shift without breaking their kiss and he felt her move one of her legs over him, soft chuckles she released onto his lips as she fumbled onto his lap on the most uncomfortable bench he could remember sitting on. But he quickly lost all conscious recognition of the world outside him, outside them, when he felt her hands move to cup his neck before her fingers slowly trailed up and through his hair. Her lips curled when he groaned and a second later so did she when she ran her nails back down. Their kiss was broken when her head rolled back to the feel of his hands on her thighs, sliding up to her waist where they held her hips close to his and in their respite, his lips found her neck and he sucked, just over her pulse, her breath catching in response. He felt her hands loosen as they became less conscious of their actions and more reflexive to her feelings and he felt her pulse drum fervently beneath his lips. With a final nip to her skin, he released her, the darkened bruise forming he could see even under this light, and pride raptured his veins to have finally claimed just a part of her as his. But then the trouble was he wanted to claim all of her as his, if she would let him, and by the way she rocked into his hold when he pulled away only confirmed that she would. As her lips began their descent once more down onto his skin, pressing sweet and messy kisses down the bridge of his nose and to his lips, he realised he couldn’t find the trouble in it at all.

He deftly slipped his jacket off her shoulders and shuddered at the speed in which her goosebumps prickled beneath his fingers, before he dragged them slowly across her shoulders and down her back, as far as her dress would allow. One hand stayed where it was, exploring the planes of her shoulder blades as they contracted with the movement of her hands, and the other travelled south and to the small of her back where he pressed, gently, until she arched into him. That move released another sound from her lips, much lower this time, much deeper and hungrier and his was only lustful in response. She tore her lips from his to bow her head to his shoulder, pausing only to catch her breath with the intent of resuming, so he peppered his kisses this time further down her neck, softening as they pressed across her shoulder until he felt her lips on his neck, her teeth grazing his skin as she matched the mark made on hers. He shivered to know she was doing the same, marking him, and he moaned into her skin as he allowed her to.

“I want you,” she breathed, he was sure she was trying to sound firm but her need strained her request. “But not here.”

He remained still as his surroundings began to settle into their rightful place and he remembered where they were. He was in no way ready to pull back, but he couldn't exactly keep going, so instead he kept his eyes closed as he followed the trail of his hands on her body, slowly tracing the curves and dips of her frame. She didn’t move either, but it seemed she too was focused only on his hands, as she had since stopped exploring him herself. To feel her in this way, to roam freely as he wished while she remained compliant and willing above him, prevented him from asking if she was sure she wanted him, and if was even a little bit more level-headed than he was at the moment, he would ask if she had really thought this through.

But all he could seem to focus on was her words, the sound of her telling him she wanted him. After that, nothing else mattered.

“Doctor,” she whispered again, and he opened his eyes to find that mole on her collarbone beneath him. He swallowed, and with considerable difficulty, and pressed his lips to it before he finally pulled away.

She cleared her throat and started to shift off of him and he spotted the other table glance over in their direction. Right, he thought, scratching the back of his neck and neatning his — he was sure — disheveled hair. Public decency, must remember that one.

Rose was grinning sheepishly by the time she settled down next to him, and for a moment, neither looked at the other. He swallowed, now that he was finally able to, and ran his palms over his trousers to neaten them down just a little. Rose tugged on the hem of her dress to bring it a bit further down her thighs and he swallowed again to see her legs bare, having only very recently felt them beneath his hands, and the tips of his fingers tingled at the memory.

Rose let out a breathy laugh, then, and he glanced over to her just at the time she looked up at him. She drank him in, her eyes flickering across his face, but he couldn’t quite do the same; he found himself transfixed only on her eyes.

“C’mere” she grinned, licking her thumb and rubbing it across his cheek. “You’ve got lipstick all over you.”

He nodded, before he gestured to her. “Funnily enough, so do you.”

She pressed her fingers to the side of her lips and giggled while he fumbled around in his suit pockets for some makeup wipes, and then she brought them down to her neck to press gently into the bruise beginning to form over her pulse.

“Bit more worried about everyone seeing that.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t hear any complaints from you when I was giving it to you.”

“Nope,” she affirmed smugly. She tugged at the wipes when he pulled them out, taking one and began cleaning up his face. “Think I’ve got some concealer in my bag, anyway.”

“Your bag’s inside.”

“Bugger,” she cursed, and he chuckled. “Reckon you could go and grab it for me before anyone sees?”

He pointed to his neck. “I think we just have to own this one, Rose.”

“It’s a lot easier to own it when everyone doesn’t know you.”

“It’s only you they know.”

“Right,” she beamed, “so you won’t have a problem going and getting my bag then, will you?”

“Bugger,” he cursed, and she chuckled.

He watched her, then, the golden lights shimmering in her eyes as she smiled, her lips still a little swollen and hair messier now. She wasn’t aware of him watching her, he didn’t think, so she was caught off guard when he began to smooth down the strands, running his fingers softly through her hair to bring back a bit of order. As he did, his gaze remained fixed on her, the shy way she kept herself still and allowed him to sort her out, to fix her back up as if she needed fixing in the first place.

“You are…” he tried, but the word was lost on his lips. He had no way of surmising her beauty at that moment, and he supposed that's why people looked to poetry or song in times where words weren’t adequate to suffice.

Perhaps she didn’t need any of that, because she seemed to understand exactly what he was trying to say, or at least the depth of it. She took his hand then, which had since frozen in his quest to articulate just how captivating she was, and brought it to her lips. She kissed each of his fingers deliberately, carefully, attentively, her eyes closed as she spoke the words caught in her throat on his skin and all he could do was listen.

God, she was divine. He felt the way his hearts completely responded to her alone, their slight quickening as her lips brushed his skin and the harder they beat for her when she released him. He was sure they had a song about them, her song, and he could have them converse with her for as long as he lived.

“What are you thinking?” she murmured, and he had been mostly — no, completely — unaware of her watching him. He wasn’t quite ready yet to translate his hearts’ intent, so instead he leaned back into her, touching his lips to the corner of hers to kiss her where he was hesitant to pull back, captured instead by a sweetness that lingered on her skin. When her lips curled beneath his, he finally did pull away; not too far though, just enough for her to hear the words he didn’t speak.

Neither said anything, for a while. Not through their searching for something to say, but simply because this was unlike them to be so close and they were familiarising themselves with it.

He was falling in love with it.

“You know,” she whispered with a smile, “I don’t think I’ve ever known you to say so little.”

“Would you prefer it if I were babbling away instead?”

“God, no,” she chuckled as he pulled away. “Think I can safely say that’s one of my preferred ways you’ve made use of your tongue.”

He raised his eyebrow and her cheeks flushed pink furiously.

“Oh my god, no! I didn’t mean— not that!”

He raised his other eyebrow and, after quickly searching his eyes, she raised hers.

“Wow, okay so maybe that, if you’re—”

He chuckled, and kissed her shoulder before climbing to his feet. “I’m going to go and get your bag.”

“Or—” she grabbed his hand to stop him “— how about we both go back to the TARDIS and pick up where we left off?”

He snorted. “No chance am I missing your drunken Steps performance.”

“Not even for a good shag?”

He stilled to hear her say it, and only then did it occur to him that that was where this was heading. It was sobering, but he couldn’t say in any way it was repellent — not at all — only completely unbelievable.

“Oh god—” she slapped her hands to her face “—you didn’t— that’s not what.. what you— oh my god you didn’t say that’s what you wanted—”

“Rose,” he stressed, although gently, pulling her hand away as he crouched down in front of her. He tried to look at her, peering up from underneath her, but she wouldn’t look back at him. “I don’t think we’d be fooling anybody if I said I didn’t want that, too.”

She nodded firmly, still unable to look him in the eye. He rubbed his thumb over her fingers as they rested firmly in his, still a little nervous was she while he was completely certain.

“But it’s not all I want.”

“Yeah?” she said as she chewed her bottom lip. He nodded, and she paused for a moment, hesitant, before she spoke. “But…”

And then it was lost on her, either the rest of that sentence or her confidence to say it. Her fingers began to fidget in his, and he loosened his hold but not entirely, simply only allowing her the freedom to dwell without letting her drift entirely.

“But what?” he probed.

She looked even further down now, her chin tucked to her chest. “Wither and die, and all that.”

Ah yes, he grimaced. That.

The truth was, of course that’s all he could think about. And he regretted saying that to her every day since he had, because it shouldn’t have been her problem and yet he had made it her problem. By only showing her how much it anguished him, she had taken it upon herself to fix it for him, only to realise that she couldn’t. Nobody could, and for that, she couldn’t simply rest and allow herself to be happy while he only awaited misery. He wondered, then, if that was why she was so hesitant — not because she didn’t want this with all her heart, but because he had given her reason to believe he was petrified for his own survival, for a future of solitude without her but it was specifically that last part that tortured him now.

Without her. How could she possibly begin to resolve her heartache when she worried tirelessly over something she couldn’t control? He had to unburden her, assure her that he wasn’t scared for him, when truthfully he felt sick by his awaited grief. So for that, he bent his head to kiss her knee, and swore to inherit all her anxieties himself and free her of them.

“I know you’re a whole twenty-one-years-old now, but I don’t see you withering anytime soon.”

She didn’t laugh, but he still smiled reassuringly, intent on fulfilling his promise.

“But I will, one day,” she countered, and he fought back a sigh.

“Are you always this miserable on your birthday?”

“Doctor!” she pleaded, but she was beginning to smile despite herself. “This is serious!”

The worst part was that he had had this exact argument with himself, time and time again, only he was normally on her side himself. But it had all changed when he had heard her tell him she wanted him; up until then, those arguments with himself were a response to the very hypothetical situation she might want him, but now that she actually did, he found himself quite unable to see her side now.

“Alright, alright,” he held up his hands in defeat. “You’re right.”

She didn’t exactly bask in it, but he knew he wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. So he perched himself down next to her, the picnic bench groaning as he settled his weight. A silence extended between them and he watched as Rose played with her ring, fiddling about with it in the interlude as she tried to find her words. But as the silence passed and she remained quiet, he realised perhaps she had nothing to say unprompted, so he asked a question he was sure he never would in the hope that she might finally release herself.

“What do you want?” he whispered.

She hesitated even still, before her breath carried her answer in a sigh. “You.”

He could have her say it over and over again and never tire of it; perhaps that serenely restful truth caused the words to tumble from his lips so desperately. “You have me. Christ knows why you want me out of anyone else in the whole bloody universe, but whatever you want is yours.”

Perhaps it was the slight inflection on just the right word, or perhaps it was all of them together, but he felt her somewhat loosen beside him. Determined though he was, he was misplaced to hear himself say it, something he only ever imagined might terrify her now only somehow consoling her.

“This is… mad,” she shuddered with a smile. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?”

“I can take an educated guess.”

“And you really want this too?”

He shrugged. “Probably— I don’t know, haven’t really thought it through.”

She whacked his arm with a chuckle she couldn’t quite suppress. “Oh my god—“

“Rose,” he whispered, urged perhaps, and she all but stilled completely to hear him say her name in such a way. He turned to look at her but she had closed her eyes, so he took her hand, small and fragile and soft as it was, and started to settle the ache in his fingers by running them across her skin. So warm, even if she didn’t think so in the cool April chill, and the softness against his, coarse and tired, was sublime.

“Why me?”

“Why you, what?”

“You said I could have anyone in the whole universe, well what about you? You’re a Time Lord,” she breathed the name of his race with such wonderment while he only regretted it, but he kept still. “And you’re the last one! You have literally all of time and space to choose from, why would you choose somebody with such a short life span— somebody who you can’t exactly share the rest of your life with or even a substantial part of it. Sixty years, that’s all I have! That’s all we’ll have!”

“This is a bit like talking about breaking up before you’ve even gotten together,” he pointed out, and she grinned again despite herself at that, and it only seemed to frustrate her that he joked when she searched for an answer much more reassuring. But the fact was, it would seem she had thought about this, and perhaps had even used it to convince herself he didn’t want her in return, which was utterly absurd to him. Joking with her wasn’t seeming to do the trick, lightening the mood in the hopes of lightening her worry was proving to serve no end to her own perceived stalemate, and she wasn’t just taking him at his word and allowing herself this.

So he bent his head to kiss the ball of her shoulder and he lingered there, breathing her in, unable to stop himself from kissing the same spot again. He needed saving from this, he realised, because kissing her seemed entirely unpreventable since he had allowed himself to only minutes ago, and right now she needed his reassurance.

“I’ve seen it all, Rose. Nine hundred years of travelling, I’ve met some spectacular people. But you have something on me that I can’t describe, and I know for a fact it’s irreversibly binding. I know, because I feel it in the way you smile, the sound of your laugh, I know I don’t stand a chance when you say my name as you giggle and I’m a complete lost cause when you touch me in any way. What I’m trying to say is I’ve met so many people in this universe, from so many corners of it across so many ages and none of them have ever given me something so completely tangible to hold on to.” He frowned, realising how he must sound completely bonkers, and he wasn’t exactly the greatest romantic of his time, but he really was limited by his words in describing what she was to him, so he settled instead on one final, simple sentiment. “You’re everything.”

He sniffed, because it sounded so terribly feeble and uninspired, and pulled away. She had been watching him as he spoke his mind, perhaps thinking he was an absolute nutter, but her palm touched his cheek and she leant forwards, brushing her lips to his and only holding on to time, savouring each passing second in this point in time and he felt how overwhelming it was, even to him. All the seconds passed, all the ones following it were immeasurable, literally, and for only a few of them, just one or two, they kissed. When she pulled away, he found himself wondering how he could possibly not chase more of those seconds.

“And don’t even get me started on that,” he breathed, and she giggled delightfully.

“You know, when you told me you were coming tonight, I thought maybe I might be lucky enough to hear you tell me I look beautiful—“

“Which I still haven’t done,” he chastised.

“— I never imagined any of this might happen, not for a second.”

“You didn’t?” he retaliated. “I was spending my day hoping that I could just survive it — and I have to say, there was a moment when your mother was telling me about Bev’s one night stand where I really, honestly, thought I might not.”

“And yet, you stayed,” she grinned, somewhat smugly and a little sweetly. “And you hate domestics!”

“I could get used to them,” he shrugged, and she only looked back at him in surprise. “Well, okay, I could learn how to tolerate them.”

“For me?” she said, still a little in disbelief.

“I told you, anything in the universe, time and space, all of it, is yours,” he assured. “If that includes family gatherings and ‘life admin’ days, then so be it.”

“Christmas dinner?”

“I’m there.”

“Even Mum’s fiftieth birthday bash?”

“Even that.”

“Christenings, baby showers, all that stuff, too?”

“If Charlie pops out any more kids, you bet I’ll be meeting them all.”

Rose scoffed, “Who are you and what have you done to the Doctor!”

“S’what you’ve done to me,” he corrected.

“It’s what domestics have done to you.”

“No, no, it’s definitely you.”

The sound of these giggles in particular, the ones where she was endearingly timid as he all but worshiped her, were entrancing; a new world he had yet to explore lay in their sound and he was a traveller, after all. It was far too tempting, she was far too tempting, and her darkened eyes as she looked at him here and now held a map to a path unknown, a whole universe in itself and he was ready to be lost in this one.

Her eyes flickered to his lips and she licked hers almost straight after, before she met his gaze once more and they were somehow even darker now. He found himself falling before he had even let go; their noses touched and her hand on his thigh sparked, and this was ridiculous, it was completely without sense that it all should feel like this. How many times had he fallen in love, how many moments had passed like this one and yet none of them were like this one, nobody looked as she looked at him, nobody’s touch was as devilishly hypnotic and never before had his hearts drummed so mercilessly for a moment in time to pass and yet remain—

“Rose!”

They both tore away to the sound of her name being called from the door, and all at once it came back: the sounds of merriment inside, the rustle of the leaves above them, the very harsh reminder that they weren’t alone.

“We’ve been looking all over for you, your mum wants to do a speech.”

“Oh, god,” Rose groaned as Shareen trudged over to them. But her steps slowed as she got closer, until she stopped completely just before them, her mouth open as she realised what she had interrupted.

He wished, with everything he had really, to be anywhere else but here.

“Oh my god, are you two—“ she gasped, narrowing her eyes at them before she pointed at their necks. “What! is that a— have you two got hickeys?”

Rose fidgeted excessively, pulling her dress down as much as she could before slapping her hand to her neck. “Shareen— please can you go get my bag?”

She scoffed indignantly and folded her arms. “Concealer ain’t gonna cover that up— what did you do to her!” she teased at the Doctor, and he only hung his head low and desperately willed for this to be over.

“Shareen,” Rose groaned. “Please, c’mon— I got two bloody weeks of detention covering for you when it was both of us skipping science to snog our boyfriends!”

The Doctor scratched his neck and shuddered to realise he was now in a situation akin to snogging his high school girlfriend when he should be in science class. He’d always wanted the human experience but this was not so high up on his list.

“As your mate, it’s my duty to have you completely mortified on your twenty-first — but—“ she insisted, when Rose began to protest “— as your best mate, I’m going to do you this favour and help you cover up the fact that you were out here neckin’ with a bloke none of us have really met before.”

The Doctor leapt to his feet, finally deciding to remove himself from this dreadful situation, but Shareen put her hand on his chest to stop him instead.

“Nope— you stay here, you look even worse than she does,” she smirked, before turning back to Rose with a wicked grin. “Give me two mins, but if your mum finds you in the meantime then I can’t help you.”

“Nobody could,” the Doctor muttered, mostly to himself, but Shareen caught it and giggled in agreement, before she turned to head back into the pub.

“I take it back,” he insisted as Rose got to her feet, too. “None of it, you can have none of it.”

“Nope,” she grinned. She took his tie in her hand and began to fiddle with it, but the look in her eye told him she was doing this deliberately, the little minx, and, worse yet, she knew exactly what it was doing to him. But she released him from it, this torture of being in a very public place when he so very much wished that they weren’t, and stood on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him down for a chaste kiss, smiling into his lips as she whispered, “No taking it back now, Time Lord.”

And it was worth it, he thought, to see a smile he hadn’t seen before. Well, that and the way she had called him “Time Lord” in a way that sent shivers down his spine. But her smile now was one where she was so completely happy and at ease, and he was quite happy indeed to bear the weight of her concerns if it meant she could enjoy her time alive.

He supposed, then, for her twenty-first birthday, he might have given her time itself.

#ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #dw fic #loup.fic #doctor who #ficandchips #oh god these two

55 notes · View notes

moonbeamsung · 4 years

Text

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

383 notes · View notes

creativeashproductions · 3 years

Text

Banjo Riff // Platonic!Reggie Peters

IN WHICH: Luke rejects Reggie’s ideas for country music one too many times leading to the friendship fracturing and putting the bands future in question. Luke, with the help of his girlfriend the reader and his friends scramble to make it up to the bassist.

Warnings: Swearing, hurt!Reggie, Luke being an ass, fighting, angst, and fluff

Words: 3.2k

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my notes for MONTHS now. Song referenced is Lay Here With Me by Maddie & Tae (featuring Dierks Bentley)

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

If there was one thing Sunset Curve, then later Julie and the Phantoms would rely on, it was the battle between Luke and Reggie. Since the conception of a band between the friends, Reggie had always wanted to play a country song. He had learned how to play the banjo in preparation, but Luke rejected both the idea and songs as always.

"You said our sound was vintage '80s and '90s rock music Luke. The band evolved into a pop-rock sound-"

"Because our band changed from Sunset Curve to Julie and the Phantoms. I love you, man, but there's no way we're going country." Luke finally snapped with a heated glare on his face. Luke didn't mean to snap so severely, but it happened.

Luke watched as Reggie's face completely dropped into the kicked puppy expression that tore everyone apart. Instead of making light of the conversation, Reggie mutely nodded in response before turning to grab his bass for the band practice. Luke's stomach dropped at the rather odd behaviour, but Luke blamed his response on his current writers' block.

"Let's start with Flying Solo." Luke proclaimed, hoping Reggie's favourite song would cheer him up. Alex's curious gaze bounced between the two other males in the band just as Julie wandered into the garage.

Before Julie could even question the tension, Reggie had started the beat on the pad stationed on the keyboard. The young female immediately jumped into the first rehearsal song with ease. Every attempt Julie was about to question Reggie's uncharacteristic quiet, the bassist started a different song.

"What's his problem?" Julie questioned as Reggie packed up his stuff and practically sprinted out of the studio. He'd rejected the offer of a pizza movie night.

"Luke here decided to be an asshole again." Alex's tone of voice was sugary sweet in comparison to the glare he sent his guitarist.

Luke flinched at the furious expression on his bandmate's face. It wasn't a secret Julie and Reggie gravitated to each other in sibling bond. The two had been friends since infancy through their parents; Julie was there when the Peters started fighting. Reggie was there when Julie's mom passed away.

"Don't kill me!" Luke pleaded, scrambling around the piano from the intimidating Puerto Rican who had a solid punch. Julie's anger faltered at the guilt on the boy's face, "I was frustrated, and I shouldn't have taken it out on him!"

"What did Reggie do to deserve it?" Julie asked from the other side of the piano, acting as a barrier between the teenagers.

"He asked about the band doing a country song," Luke admitted with a grimace. His hazel eyes dimmed once more.

"What is your issue with country music? Your girlfriend is literally a country singer Luke!" Alex cried, stepping in between the two feuding bandmates.

Rock n' Roll Luke Patterson had been dating a well-known country singer for close to two years now. Luke had always been adamant that country wasn't all it was cracked up to be, but if you looked in the false bottom of the console in his car, you'd see a different story. Beneath the Eagles, Nirvana, AC/DC, and Gun N' Roses CDs, you'd find countless CDs of his girlfriend. He even had a playlist with a name that concealed the music in it.

Luke was a secret country fan, but he'd take that to his grave before he let anyone other than you know that.

"I don't have an issue! I don't think our band would benefit from branching into that music genre!" Luke argued with his bare arms crossing over his chest. Both Julie and Alex were about to respond when the studio gained another inhabitant.

"Would anyone like to explain why Reggie stormed into my house holding his songbook? He literally dropped it in my garage and tried to light it on fire?" You asked from the double doors with said book in your hand.

All three out of four members of Julie and the Phantoms recognized the book with a country landscape. The sight caused all their stomachs to drop at the obvious symbol of Reggie's hurt feelings.

"Funny story-"

"Luke Patterson...did you hurt his feelings about his love of country?" You asked through clenched teeth. Your response was Luke wincing at the anger blistering in your tone, "Did you ever think that country music is his comfort music? Fix this, Luke. Reggie, of all people, doesn't deserve your frustration."

You turned on your heel with Julie following in the attempt to find the forlorn bassist, most likely being hard on himself. You checked the beach house Reggie's dad had gotten in the divorce to no success. The school auditorium was empty, and so was the stable where Reggie worked part-time for the horses. You had returned back to Julie's house to sit on the porch to brainstorm.

"Isn't this the week he's with his mom?" Julie questioned with a furrowed brow. You could only shrug as Julie pulled up the calendar she shared with Flynn.

Reggie's parents had somewhat amicably divorced two years ago after attempts of reconciliation through therapy. Reggie had sat down with them to tell them how he felt with them fighting, if you recalled. They decided to do a trial separation for a few months and, in the end, had mutually agreed to divorce.

"I think Mr. Peters is taking care of his mother in a different state. She broke her hip, and now she's being moved into a retirement home." You offered the girl the encapsulated sunshine in just her smile.

"I suppose we'll try the Carter-Peters home." Julie breathed, bouncing on her feet to your car parked in front of her house. Julie's fingers tapped the screen in a chat thread she hadn't touched for months.

Your keen eyes easily read Carrie Wilson's name at the top of the thread that had been dormant since the end of their friendship. Apparently, Julie received little help in the frustrated sigh she released and the increasingly violent tapping of her screen.

"As usual, Carrie is no help," Julie announced with disgust in her voice. She squeezed the hand you placed on her knee before your hand returned to the wheel.

"One day, you'll have to tell me what happened between the two of you."

"Old news. Happened just before you moved back from Nashville." Julie once more avoided talking about the issues.

It was the same response every time you questioned the friendship that had fractured in the few years you'd been in Nashville. Before you left, Carrie and Julie had been attached at the hip, and when you came back, they were at each other's throats. Well, mostly Carrie was because Julie had too big of a heart to stand up to her former friend.

"Well, the beat-up van is still there." Julie caught the van, more of an eyesore, to be honest, sitting in the three-car driveway. The van was shared between Reggie and Flynn as a joint gift from their parents when Reggie's mom moved in with Flynn and her father.

"We both know Reggie-"

"Would walk to work through his problems. The number of times I've found in walking downtown…" Julie trailed with a shake of her half up half down hairstyle she left uncovered by a hat. Another symbol of her finding herself outside the grief that had concealed her.

"Oh, thank god." Flynn moaned from the front porch with her headphones resting on her shoulders instead of her ears, "He's been playing his old bass that makes that odd high pitch squeak noise. I couldn't take it. Get him out!"

You opened and closed your mouth with the inability to find the words, but Flynn knew already, "Doors unlocked. He's in his room."

"Thanks." You informed the fashionable teenager before brushing passed into the house. Not much had changed since Reggie had moved part-time into the house; his parents shared custody.

Flynn was right; the sound of that screech was like a bread trail to the last bedroom in the hallway to the left. The door opened a smidge to reveal Reggie sitting in the dim room with just his bedside lamp on. He was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, Reggie." You breathed from leaning against the door jam, "I'm not sure what Luke said but don't give up on writing. Your songs mean something, Reginald."

"Then why doesn't Luke even read my lyrics? He barely read the title of my last one before tossing it aside!" Reggie whined before taking on a caricature of Luke's voice, "'Home is Where my Horse Is'? Reggie, stop putting your songs in my book!"

You couldn't help the snort at his interpretation of Luke, "That's a...uh...an accurate voice?"

Reggie didn't even crack a smile.

"Okay, maybe don't push Luke's buttons but imagine turning this hurt into songs!"

"Okay. Can I be left alone?"

"Sure." You sighed, turning to leave the room again, "But first. Don't get rid of this Reg. You have good songs."

You left Reggie's songbook on the dresser by his door on your way through the Carter-Peters household. Flynn sighed in relief when Reggie didn't continue using his old bass and even waved as you and Julie pulled away from the curb.

Reggie's eyes had stayed on the songbook you left on his second-hand dresser as if it would get up and bite him. All he could see was Luke rolling his eyes when Reggie had opened the book to show him a new song he'd written. Reggie was tired of only being known for playing bass.

"I brought you some leftover pizza." Reggie wasn't aware he'd been staring at the songbook for hours by then. He was only aware of Luke when he offered a peace offering in the form of Reggie's favourite food.

"I-"

"I'll go grab a soda from the fridge." Luke retreated just as quick as he had entered the bedroom. Seeing Luke was like rubbing salt in the open wound, and once more, Reggie's emotions flared.

Reggie was already at the fire pit in the backyard when Luke had argued with Flynn overtaking one of her sodas. The soda that had dropped on the back porch as Luke saw Reggie's fingers about to drop the songbook in the crackling fire.

"Reggie!" Luke shouted, ignoring the cold spray of soda on his bare arms. The hazel-eyed guitarist shoved Reggie away from the fire.

"What the hell, dude?" Reggie groaned, rolling onto his stomach to push himself to his sit on his knees. His blue eyes seeing Luke stomping the ignited corner of the songbook that had caused them issues.

"What the hell were you doing, Reggie?" Luke demanded with the songbook held tight in his grip. The glare on the messy-haired teenager directly pinned on his best friend, "Why would you try to destroy the book?"

"What's the point of having something our band won't branch into?" Reggie shrugged, moving to sit with his knees pulled to chest, "I've tried to keep the peace but Luke. I'm starting to understand why Bobby left the band."

Luke's heart clenched at the honesty Reggie was revealing, "What do you mean?"

"Screw the blood pact." Reggie grumbled, recalling the oath Alex, Bobby, and he had done to keep the truth from Luke, "Bobby didn't leave because he got an early acceptance into Juilliard."

Luke's eyebrows furrowed together, "What?"

"Luke...you tend to get possessive over the music we make. You brushed off Bobby's opinions, and we all didn't want to hurt your feelings. You've had a shitty time with your parents, but like Bobby, I feel like you don't appreciate our talents."

"What? Dude, you're killer on the bass! Alex's insane on the drums!"

"We know that. Maybe Bobby should have told you the truth on why he was leaving. I don't think you noticed but

"Luke. The songs we perform are all written by you. It was fine, but then when Julie joined, all of a sudden, you were okay with someone else writing with you. But you've never even looked at the songs I've written."

Luke silently listened as Reggie rambled on about how he, along with Bobby, felt underappreciated by the guitarist.

"And now you've been bit by the writers' block bug, but I think the band should take a break. Get our heads back on straight. Before we destroy the band, destroy our friendships." Reggie told his best friend with tears rolling down his face, "Just a week or two."

Luke's mouth hung open as Reggie circled around him to enter the household, but the telltale sound of the lock engaging broke the teenager. But Luke wasn't one to give up, so he created a group chat with Alex, Julie, Flynn and you. A single text that had all of them meeting at the studio.

"He quit the band?" Alex demanded, taking the songbook from Luke's hand, "What the hell?"

"One second he's in his room, and the next he's about to burn that! I may not like-"

"Luke, have you even read a single song he wrote?" You asked your boyfriend with your arms resting down on your knees. The boy in question half-heartedly shrugged with his eyes on his battered shoes.

"How are we gonna fix this?" Julie asked with a frown marring her pretty face usually lit up with sunshine. Her question was left to waft in the forlorn atmosphere in her family's studio.

"Give me that." You demanded towards the band's drummer with determination lit up in your eyes. Alex hesitantly handed over the songbook to your grabby hands.

The other individuals in the room watched as you settled into a chair with a stray acoustic guitar you'd left. Your eyes focused on the notes Reggie had placed around one of the unfinished songs. The soft melody was played a few times before you noticed Alex creating a beat with his drums.

"If I just tweak the song to make this piece the verse instead of a chorus." You mumbled under your breath with a pen scratching the paper. In a different colour, you jotted down the lyrics of a song you'd been working on previously. It was a song you'd struggled with the ending.

Alex huddled around you to add his own notes for the drums, "Definitely a song with a soft backing beat."

"Perfect. I just joined what he has with a song I'd given up a while back. The two songs are the last two pieces of a puzzle." You informed the drummer. Both of you unaware as Julie, Luke, and Flynn watched your brainstorming.

Luke felt out of sorts not being included in writing a song, but he thought it was suitable to not work on it. It gave Luke insight into how Reggie felt not being included in songwriting.

"I have an idea." Luke interjected with a grin, "Reggie's always wanted to see a real ranch. Do you think your uncle would be okay with us staying at the ranch?"

Your eyes flitted up to the mischievous hazel of your boyfriend's scheming gaze, "My uncle adores having people on the ranch. He'd enjoy teaching Reggie the ways of ranch life out of a city."

"How are you gonna get Reggie out to Nashville without it being band business?" Flynn questioned from her position on the couch, "He did just ask for a break from the band."

"Uh...I could pretend to enter a music competition." You offered hesitantly as you'd never actually performed on a stage for the group. You'd kept your personal life separate from your successful career as a country musician.

So you conspired with your friends to make amends with the bassist.

One Month Later, Nashville

The beat-up van pulled into a parking spot in front of a building. The band had seen the building in pictures on your Instagram. Alex, Luke and Julie all shared a look Reggie couldn't catch with his mouth wide open at the city.

"So, where's this competition?" Reggie inquired with his steps in line with Julie. The distance between Reggie and Luke is still noticeable.

True to Reggie's word, the band had come back together after two weeks of a break, but the bassist and guitarist's friendship was still fractured. A particular cloud of awkwardness followed each attempt; Luke tried to branch it together.

"Uh, not here. Y/N invited me to tour the recording studio she uses through her label." Luke offered to the confused bassist. As usual, Reggie barely cast a glance at the guitarist.

"C'mon!" Alex called out from the open doorway with the new addition of you by his side.

Luke was quick to nearly tackle you in a hug and a lingering kiss on your lips. The band all made sounds of feigned disgust. Even Reggie joined in the usual banter within the group.

"Hey, Reggie, do you want to see how us country artists do it?" You quipped with your arm interlocking with his. The cold leather of his jacket raising goosebumps on your arm as you dragged him to the recording booth.

As soon as he was comfortable on one of the spinney chairs by the producer's side, he watched like a hawk. The band had never been in a real professional recording studio owned by a label. It was interesting to everyone, but mostly they all watched Reggie's reactions.

"I was working on this song." You spoke from inside the booth. With a nod, your producer began playing a portion of the song.

"Is...is that-" Reggie was cut off by as Luke interrupted him.

"Your song? Yeah."

Reggie stared at his best friend, "What?"

"You were right, Reggie. I didn't appreciate what you could bring to the band, and I'm so fucking sorry about that. You have excellent songs even if I'm not a fan of country music." Luke genuinely informed his best friend with his hands clasping his, "I want you. Both you and Alex to have a bigger role because we started this band together. We all share responsibility."

"So for now. Alex and I finished one of the songs you had written. I was wondering if you'd like to make it a duet? Release it as a single with a full writing credit."

Reggie absolutely beamed in response to your question. He was in the recording booth beside you in mere seconds.

For the week the band stayed on your uncle's ranch, Reggie was in the studio with you going over the song. It is a song you released as the leading single for your upcoming studio album with Reggie and cemented his career. It wasn't the last time you did a song with Reggie. In fact, he set himself up as a sought after country songwriter.

"Holy shit!" Luke shouted as soon as Reggie told him the success of one of the songs had brought interest to Julie and the Phantoms, "I could kiss you! I'll never doubt your skills!"

Reggie and Luke's fractured friendship healed with the promise of a yearly visit to the ranch in Nashville. Plus, Reggie impressed Luke and Alex with the banjo riff in a country song the band released on their third studio album featured by you. Reggie would always be thankful he had the chance to record ‘Lay Here With Me’ with you.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @merceret @kexrtiz @biqherosix @lukewearingbeanies @dangersolns @soverignparker @omgdani17

#reggie peters #reggie peters imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #platonic!reggie peters #platonic!reggie peters x reader #julie and the phantoms #reginald peters #musician!reader x luke patterson #alive!luke patterson #alive!reggie peters

97 notes · View notes

moon-lixie · 3 years

Text

Yes, he had been aware that it was the literal end of the world, but to hear that he only had so little time left made everything appear clearer in front of his now blurry sight.

word count: 3.699k

warnings: mentions of riots and guns.

genre: apocalyptic AU, slight enemies to lovers, fluff.

song: moya- Godspeed You! Black Emperor

The sound of the tv in the background didn’t allow Seungmin to concentrate on the only thing that seemed to matter to him at that moment, you.

What met his wide eyes was the familiar cream white walls that he could only associate with his home, because that’s exactly where he was, in his childhood house while you were away, not awfully so but still not close enough for him to reach out to you in the way he wanted.

If he had learnt something from this situation it was that he didn’t have many instances he would like to go back and fix, and that he had always seen you in the wrong way. Either because he liked living in denial or because —without noticing— he had become the most dense person to have ever existed.

And it was infuriating that he had only noticed now, having had plenty of time before he had only come to the realisation because of the end of—

The volume of the tv became louder and he had to bite back his urge to belligerently ask his parents to turn it down when he heard what was being said on the news.

‘Specialists have estimated that we have only 48 hours left before it becomes impossible to leave our houses due to the radiation. People have apparently taken this ultimatum just as predicted by many as unprecedentedly violent riots have started breaking out all across the globe,’ the woman on the news channel said, wearing a cool expression that he wished he could also keep in a situation like this.

On the screen various photos and videos of chaos flashed in an instance, flooding the small living room with an orange glimmer that came from the flames he saw as mere pixels.

Seungmin’s blood ran completely cold; yes, he had been aware that it was the literal end of the world, but to hear that he only had so little time left made everything appear clearer in front of his now blurry sight.

The first tear travelled down his left cheek and impacted against the wooden floor right when the barking of what sounded like all the dogs of the neighbourhood started resonating with force and alarm.

Hell was breaking loose not only all across the world but in his chest too, he felt too many and yet so little at the same time. His body began moving on an impulse as he took long strides towards the white entrance door. Feeling excessively heavy he let his weight fall to the ground as he sat and put his shoes on, taking special care of making a double knot on the shoelaces of the black converse he had been wearing the night before when he arrived.

It was hard but he still managed to stand up and open the door hastily; ignoring the questioning voice of his mother he began sprinting towards the sidewalk where some of the people he had grown up seeing greet him with vibrant smiles now wearing cold expressions and getting inside their cars with a definite goal in mind.

He couldn’t care less about getting his hands on material objects; just as before, he felt pleased with his life and the things he had, that sentiment wouldn't change just because his life was close to reaching its end.

The night before he had fallen asleep in his parent's room as they had all cried their eyes out and confessed the love they were already aware of. But now he needed to make one last confession, and that’s why he had to reach your side before it was too late. That’s the only reason why he ran.

The pavement punched his soles as his steps increased its pace, every step resonated against every centimetre of his body as he tried to move faster. His heart was beating on his throat and he knew it wasn’t because he was exhausted, he had just begun running after all, it had all to do with the words he had never wanted to say until today.

Desperately he wanted to figure out when had this feeling on his chest begun, when and how? And the current situation suddenly felt like the best way to figure it out, because as he felt the air hit against his face and knew the world was slowly crumbling around him, he felt like he was not only rushing to you but through memories as well.

He knew for sure that his feelings had nothing to do with that evening in the park back when you were both kids. Your hands wrapped tight around the handles of the mint green bike he had pointed out was hideous just because you seemed to love it so much, eyes soaked with innocence wavering with nervousness and little white sneakers sitting on the pedals.

The memory was quite vivid, how you had taken various deep breaths before your hesitant glare turned to one of determination and you voiced out that you were in fact ready to try on your own.

Your father let go of your bike and you began pedalling, screaming out in joy as you managed to move forward the first two meters completely unscratched before you fell. The consequences of your bravery were a scraped knee and tears that dried fast as you refused to keep crying when he started making fun of your fall.

Neither did it seem to be related with all of those petty fights that had taken place at school back when you felt like you were on top of the world with a perfect score on the chemistry test everyone else had flunked.

All of those instances in which he had gotten to erase a smug smirk from your lips came rushing back, specifically on those midterm tests where he had managed to get an almost perfect score on every single subject after having spent the prior three nights staying up until ungodly hours just to study. Because he wanted to win.

No, he wanted you to see him, even if it meant you were mad at him because he had outperformed you, he wanted to have your undivided attention if only for a couple of minutes and he cursed himself for not knowing better than to annoy you in order to get it.

The feeling constricting his chest had a lot to do with that evening in the eighth grade where the moon shone with a special glimmer. The park that had witnessed the both of you bicker and tease each other endlessly was then completely quiet while it cradled two teenagers sitting on the swings.

It had been around the time where you both seemed to come to terms with your stupid rivarly and accepted that it was just the way you two functioned. And so the late night meetings and the sitting together at lunch with your other mutual friends had become so usual that many times you had both taken it for granted.

“I kissed Felix, well, he kissed me,” you confessed, wearing a dumb grin on your lips, your eyes holding every star that had previously been on the sky that faced the unpleasant feeling harboring on his chest.

He was sure it had a lot to do with the bitter taste that congratulating you for it had left at the back of his mouth, and the annoyance he felt for the following weeks when he faced his freckled friend, because Felix had been your first kiss and not him.

A loud shattering sound interrupted his thoughts, he looked towards his right side without stopping for a second, being met with the image of one of his middle school classmates breaking the window of one of the establishments that were near your favourite ice cream spot downtown.

He hadn’t realized how far he had come while running, not even his ragged breath had done much to bring him out of his daze as opposed to the chaos that was turning his hometown into something that must look like hell.

Completely mortified was an understatement to explain how he felt about the situation, but he at least had the comfort of knowing that both you and his parents were far away from this mayhem, even if that meant he still had a considerable way to go before reaching you.

Nothing could stop him or at least that is what he thought before a flying tv crossed his eyesight, he stopped immediately, almost not being able to dodge the shoe that was thrown into someone else’s direction right after.

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity of both objects crossing his eyesight if it hadn’t been for a loud crash that made reality wash over him once and for all. Turning around he witnessed a blue pickup truck being consumed by greedy flames that threatened not to leave anything behind for the owner of the vehicle.

Right after, he became aware of the hysterical screams of everyone around him and just how many people were there running without a destination and taking as many things as they could hold in their hands.

Deep inside he wished there was a way to make all of this stop but he soon regretted that wish when a gunshot rippled over the loud voices. The world came to a stop for a second as some threw themselves to the floor and covered their heads —Seungmin included— and some others froze in place.

The chaos resumed soon after when the people still standing began running once again without direction, pushing each other and trying to pick up things others allowed to fall from their arms as they tried to escape.

He was trembling on the floor, eyes wide open and trying to take in every last detail he could. The person who had shot was standing on top of a black car, holding a handgun he definitely shouldn’t have. Their eyes were closed as he aimed somewhere else and he shot again.

Another wave of screams filled the city and he choked back a sob as he began crawling on the cold pavement. The sleeves of his jacket were picking up all the dirt of the floor and becoming stained perhaps forever, but that was the least of his worries.

His current goal was reaching the other sidewalk where some small houses were spread in order to keep himself alive, at least he thought that was his best shot for now.

The world seemed to want to prove him wrong, a blaring shriek uncovered that his crawling plan wasn’t fool proof. Beside him a car had barely managed to stop on time not to impact against him.

For what felt like a couple of minutes all he could see were the blinding yellow lights, his body completely frozen and unwilling to react even when his mind screamed that he needed to move.

“Are you alright?” asked a robust man that had stepped outside of the car and kneeled in front of him. And the answer was no, he wasn’t alright, nobody was, hell was consuming every inch of that place and he had no time to spare, not even 48 hours because he might just not make it through another one.

He should thank the man for taking its time to check on him even when Seungmin himself wouldn’t have stepped down from the car if he saw such atrocities taking place, but all he could do was stand up and run with all of his might.

One blue fence looked like the best place to hide behind, not that much as he tried to climb it and ended up falling to the floor where plush grass met his back and elbows. Thankfully he hadn’t hit his head.

A deep sigh escaped his lips as he allowed his head to rest back atop the grass. In front of his eyes the sky had begun turning grey, the warning of yet another inconvenience waiting around the corner.

The unsuccessful attempt at climbing the fence had reminded him of that time he had tried to sneak to your house along with Jisung and Felix, who had planned to climb the fence of your backyard and then come inside from the back door that you would be waiting by.

Of course he had fallen to the floor just like now, grunting more loudly than he should’ve if your parents were asleep and unaware of their presence there —which they weren’t.

You had run towards him with a mocking grin on your face and told him, “you need to stop trying to be interesting because this is all you get from it. Just stick to your books and stay away from any physical activity.”

“Shut up,” he had scowled while sitting up, “I’m more athletic than you.”

“I apologize if I hurt your ego, mister star of the baseball team. But I’m pretty sure the fence did a better job at that than I could.” And he hated that you were right as much as he hated you and your stupidly pretty smile that would appear whenever you were amused.

Taking a deep breath he stood up with more determination than he had when he was in the middle of the main street. He had to make it there and tell you how he felt, even if it was the literal last thing that he managed to do.

He circled the small house and got out through the back door of the yard, taking special care of locking it afterwards, thinking of it as a favour he could do for the people that surely were inside that house facing the horror of the collective hysteria.

There was no time to waste, that was the only certainty that humankind had been given and so he resumed his running, pushing his tired legs to make the most of all of those years of being on the baseball team because that had to be worth something, right?

While running he had always allowed his mind to drift to wherever it pleased, especially back in high school on the early trainings where his coach would send them to run three laps around the school.

Right then and there his mind went back in time once again, this time to a similar instance to the one he underwent. It was in the middle of training when he had heard you had injured yourself and Jisung had taken you to the infirmary.

Of course the worried Felix forgot to mention that you had only twisted your ankle while going down the stairs, nothing more and nothing else. The days that followed he found himself wondering if he would have ran with such desperation if he had been aware of that detail or if he perhaps would’ve experienced the same need of having to see you.

He ran and ran, up the stairs and through the hallways where he had previously scolded people for doing so, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t slow down until he saw you were alright; and when he finally made sure of it, it was his heart that would refuse to slow down.

After making sure you were okay he had waited by your side, cracking light hearted jokes and making fun of you for being so clumsy when in reality all that he wanted was to hold your hand and sigh loudly in relief. He was such a big idiot for not realising it sooner.

He had always been too scared, of you and especially of the things you made him feel that he couldn’t quite put into words; never knowing exactly how to act around you he had acted like an idiot on many occasions. Not that he was the only one at fault, you could be pretty rude too when you put your mind to it.

Just like at that party in your senior year of high school in which everyone had agreed to the genius idea of playing spin the bottle, which had ultimately resulted in the both of you cramped inside Jisung’s messy closet.

“We don’t have to do anything, in fact, I won’t even touch you so you don’t have to be worried,” he had told you, trying to avoid looking directly at your eyes that were too close for comfort.

“Just say that you’re a coward and stop trying to pretend you’re not doing anything to be a gentleman.” The tone of your voice was outright mocking and it made his blood boil with annoyance.

“I’m not a coward,” he retorted almost right away, “as a matter of fact I could kiss you right here and now but I won’t because you’re going to make a fuss just like you always do.”

What was it about the presence of the other that always made the both of you turn into childish idiots and take stupid decisions? He sincerely had no idea but it happened again after you spoke next. “You don’t have the guts to do it.”

“Watch me.”

The skin of your cheeks felt searing against his palms; your loud friends outside seemed to go silent as if they had a way of knowing he was leaning ever so slowly towards you.

Once he could feel your breath fanning over his lips he looked at your eyes, asking for permission despite his initial impulse of just proving you wrong. You nodded softly before closing your eyes and he finally did it, he kissed you like he had wanted to do since god knows when.

Your lips moved softly against his, warming up his chest and the now rosy skin of his cheeks. He wanted to stay there forever and kiss you until he had robbed you of every breath you could have but you pushed away before he had the chance to.

Confusion had been painted clearly on his face but you didn’t even seem to notice or you simply didn’t care as you pushed open the doors of the closet and loudly declared that the idea was so stupid that you wouldn’t go throught wiht it, that you didn’t want to kiss him not for seven minutes or seven seconds when all he wanted then was to kiss you forever.

Stupid Seungmin, stupid. He chanted in his head as he saw the building of your apartment come closer with every single one of his steps.

He should’ve kissed you more, asked you to prom, he should’ve insisted on hugging you a bit longer the last time you both saw each other, he should’ve told you he loved you, he needed to.

Upon entering the building on the outside of the city where you had decided to settle a year ago, he looked around only to find an eerie silence greeting him. The place wasn’t particularly lively, but this was a contrast that made him shiver.

He looked towards the elevator and quickly discarded that idea, he still remembered how he had to carry box after box up the stairs when you moved here because the elevator was “temporarily” out of order; what the landlord had forgotten to mention was that temporarily meant always for him.

You lived on the fifth floor which usually didn’t present much of an inconvenience but having run across the whole city he felt like his knees were about to give up and no amount of determination could push them to function any better. Nevertheless you were so close already that he couldn’t even think of giving up.

Kim Seungmin had never been one to quit easily nor one to let anxiety persuade him from going after he wanted, and so, mind set on staying true to himself and being well aware that he had nothing else to lose, he knocked on your door three times, just like he always used to.

A couple of minutes passed by until he heard a loud gasp behind the door before he saw you step outside into the hallway with a confused expression painting your beautiful face different from what he remembered.

Was it silly that he just wanted to see you smile?

“What are you doing h—” Your sentence was cut short by the sobs that escaped from in between his lips once he hugged you close to his chest.

He had made a recount of every moment he had spent with you, about every touch and every word you had ever exchanged and used it as a fuel to run away from the chaos that could’ve killed him and all he wanted was you.

Despite all the chaos, hysteria, despite the end of the world, he had run all the way there just because of you.

“I love you,” he said once he had calmed down and you had pulled him inside your apartment, “I love you so much and I was the biggest idiot in the world for not noticing sooner.”

With him your gaze was rarely as soft and comforting as the one you gave him now, with him things had always been complicated because both decided to play dumb, he knew that now.

Your hand travelled to brush his hair away from his face and ultimately to cup the left side of his face where a small scratch had slipped its way on his face on his way there. He melted into the touch and closed his eyes feeling a foreign pain begin taking over his chest.

“The world is ending and you ran all the way here?” you asked seemingly amused, though he couldn’t ignore the slightly worried undertone to your comment.

“I don’t care, I love you,” he whispered back, like a broken record, he believed himself only capable of repeating those three words over and over again.

“You’ve always been an idiot.” Your eyes were filled with tears as you hugged him and brought his head to rest on your shoulder. “But I love you too.”

He began crying once again, because he was terrified and amazingly regretful of not telling you before. But despite of the world falling apart, he finally had you.

#kpop #skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #seungmin fluff

45 notes · View notes

hoseokmylovesworld · 4 years

Text

I Knew It Was You | Jungkook One Shot

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Requested: Anonymous:

“A wolf college au where yn and jk are both the popular students but they’re not really acquainted with each other? theyre actually mates but they dont know that yet. Their friends always hint that theyre basically so compatible with each other and so they start to develop feelings for each other. One day, yn was in her wolf form just hanging around the forest and she met jk’s wolf whom she didnt recognize and they ran and played together. So, theres this other girl who likes jk and tries to make a move and kisses jk but jk immediately rejects her but yn was hurt when she saw and like jk could feel it through their mate bond? and they eventually confess and well realise theyre mates and start dating :D also like soft smut scenes in between especially when they finally officialized their mate bond :) also, jk is the alpha of his pack and is usually cold to outsiders and hes typically only soft for yn :D”

Genre: Wolf au, College au, Fluff, Smut

Length: 9,029k Words

Warnings: Strong language, Underage drinking, Drunk-con, Smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex.

A/N:

1. My first ever request! Thank you so much!!! I hope it is the first of many ;D.

2. First time writing Wolf AU, I kinda just made some stuff up...actually I made a lot of stuff up, but who doesn’t.

3. Thank you for being so specific and creative, it really helped. I hope I did it justice.

4. P.S. Listening to Dance For You by Beyoncé on repeat kind of inspired the last bit.

“Is there a reason why Jeon Jungkook is staring at you right now?” your best friend, Camille, whispered in your ear from the desk behind you during class. Your gaze shot up from your notebook and focused straight ahead, processing what she just told you. Your eyes then drifted to the desk, that you knew very well, positioned five rows to the right of you, where Jeon Jungkook was indeed looking in your direction. Once your eyes met, his eyes suddenly wandered down to his own notes, a devilish smirk could be seen on his perfect lips. You did a double take because you couldn’t believe it yourself, but the proof was right there, he had definitely been caught staring. You couldn’t help, but chuckle to yourself. You quickly shrug in Camille’s direction to answer her question, down playing the encounter that made your heart skip a beat.

“Mmhmm.” You heard her unconvinced hum from behind you and chuckle at her meddling behavior. As soon as the professor announced the end of class Camille, of course, was hounding you about the incident.

“So did I miss something, or did something happen between you two?” You look at her in confusion. “No, nothing happened.” You say as you continue to pack up and head home for the day.

“Well, why the fuck not?” She asks animatedly.

“Um, maybe because we don’t know each other.” You throw out with a laugh.

“Of course you do. You guys go to the same parties, I’ve seen you talking. You even have some mutual friends.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s about it, isn’t it? Other than that, we just share a class together.” You tell her as you both walk outside of the building.

“Okay, fine argument, but you realize that’s not the first time he’s been caught staring at you?”

“Everyone stares at me, Camille. They stare at you too. It’s because we’re fucking beautiful.” You smile at her and she can’t help, but smile back at the compliment. “So no, I didn’t notice.”

“This is different Y/N and you know it.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just as you spoke, Jungkook came into your view walking on the path that intersected with yours. A classmate you know as Crystal was walking beside him, her words falling on deaf ears as Jungkook was not paying much attention to her. He looked up and you locked eyes again. His blank and cold expression was replaced with a warm smile and he even went so far as to wave at you. You hesitated, but quickly lifted your hand and waved back. Before you could warn him, Jungkook collided with a student on his path because he was looking at you and the cold expression was back again. By now you stopped walking and just watched the scene play out.

“Watch where you’re going, yeah?” he grumbled at the boy. The opposite student was speechless and hurried off without an answer. Jungkook looked back up at your slightly shocked expression and a quick look of regret flashed across his face before he took off in a fast walk, Crystal struggling to keep up with him.

“But this isn’t different?” Camille asked with almost perfect timing. You glare at her before continuing your walk. “No. It’s not. And if it is...so what?”

“So what? You’re hot, he’s hot. You’re both popular, you would be so good together. You know you guys have more things in common than you think. Jimin told me he loves singing and video games, too! Everyone on campus would be so jealous.”

You stop in your tracks once again, realizing what Camille wasn’t saying.

“Are you and our friends trying to set me up with Jeon Jungkook behind my back?” You ask seriously. Camille froze, her head snapped up and her eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Um...not in so many words.” You raise your eyebrows at her accusingly and she breaks. “When you put it that way it seems bad, okay—”

“Don’t bother.” You offer as the two of you begin to walk again. You actually began to feel a sort of pull towards Jungkook recently, but ignored it because: “He seems like a bad boy type anyways.”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself? I hear he’s not actually like that and you never know, you might like it. You’re nineteen and you’ve never even had a boyfriend before.”

Because a werewolf girl dating a human boy would never work.

“Thanks for the reminder Camille, I’m aware.”

“Look, you’re going to the basketball house party this weekend right? He’s gonna be there. Why don’t you give it a chance?” Her question is only met with silence.

“At least talk to him. Get to know him more. And then you can judge for yourself.”

“Fine. But only because you won’t leave it alone and he is really hot.” You finally gave in. Camille laughed and shouted in triumph. “Thank you. I just want you to find some happiness, you know? And who knows maybe he’s the one.”

The weekend has finally arrived and you really needed a break from studying and work so you dressed to impress and came ready to have a good time at the basketball house on Saturday night. As you approached the house, the many drunk bodies on the porch all greeted you by name, whether you knew them or not, they were all very excited for your and Camille’s arrival. It was the team's captain, an upperclassmen named Yoongi, who opened the door to the house and welcomed you into the crowded living room. “Y/N! Camille! You’re here!” He drunkenly shouted, making both you and your best friend laugh. “Hey, Yoongi! How’s it going?” You asked him, having to talk directly into his ear to be heard over the music.

“Great! Let’s get you girls some drinks though! Have whatever’s in my fridge ‘cause I love you guys and if you run out of booze, come see me.” He walked you both to the kitchen with his arms around your shoulders.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary Yoongi, but thank you anyway.” Camille said, giving Yoongi a kiss on his cheek. You did as Yoongi said and helped yourself to whatever closed, untouched beverage caught your eye in Yoongi’s fridge and once you felt just tipsy enough, you and Camille hit the makeshift dance floor and grabbed everyone’s attention as usual. After a few more songs and a few more drinks you were feeling a bit beat and suddenly wanted a place to lay down that was quieter. Seeing as you were separated from Camille and weren’t in the position to use the best judgement right now, you decided to travel upstairs and find a nice bed to fall into for the time being.

You stumbled through the wide hallways of the house and settled on the third door on the left. You swung the door open, laid eyes on the large freshly made bed and prepared to flop belly first on top of it, but you noticed a person sitting in an armchair near the window. You straightened yourself up as much as you could at the sight to realize it was Jungkook.

“Hi.” Your hoarse voice spoke quietly.

He wore an expression of pleasant surprise and cleared his throat before speaking. “Hi.”

You shook your head in embarrassment and scrambled for an excuse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would be in here. Yoongi usually says the second floor is off limits.”

“Then why are you here?” He asks playfully.

“We’re good friends and I thought he wouldn’t mind.” You play off innocently. “Why are you here?”

“Same.” Is all he said before a silence came over the two of you.

“Well, sorry again. I’ll just go.” You go to leave, but Jungkook stands and reaches in your direction.

“Wait!” He said. You step back into the room again and face him. “Stay.” He said hopefully.

“Why should I do that?”

“Because these parties are not my style and I could use someone to talk to.” He settled with a smile. The pull you felt for him was making itself known and at this point you couldn’t leave now even if you wanted to.

“Okay.” You shut the door, make your way to the bed and face him. Once you were closer to him, you got a proper whiff of his scent. There was the pleasant waft of fabric softener and his expensive cologne, but the coaxing aroma of cedarwood and lavender practically called to you in a refreshing and comforting way. You couldn’t for the life of you begin to understand the feeling, but if being this close to Jungkook brought it on, then that’s what you would do.

“So, if these parties aren’t your style then why do you always come to them?” You ask curiously.

He sat back down in his chair and took a swig from his beer. “Because my friends come and I have nothing better to do on a Saturday night.” He flashed his bright, perfect teeth and you let out a nervous giggle.

“Seriously?” You asked, not knowing whether you believed that answer. “You’re not even with them, you’re in here by yourself.” His smile slowly morphed into a thoughtful line and he let his head fall to stare at his fidgeting fingers in his lap.

“There was no one there that I wanted to see.” He said quietly.

“But there was someone up here that you wanted to see?” You said sarcastically with a laugh.

“Well there wasn’t before, but there is now.” He looked up with a timid smile and your breath caught in your throat for a split second. You cleared your throat and decided to change the subject due to how warm your insides suddenly became. He doesn’t seem all that bad, maybe you should actually get to know this guy.

“So, while we’re here, avoiding the rest of the world, maybe we could...get to know each other better. I feel like we barely talk.” You offered, following through with Camille’s request. You were suddenly aware of how heavy your head was. Your weighted eyelids dropped and the world went dark before Jungkook was suddenly back in your sight once more, looking pleased with your previous words. It was obvious you were still pretty intoxicated and needed to carefully monitor what came out of your mouth.

“Um, okay. Yeah, uh...what kind of music are you into?” He laughed at his own question, probably thinking it wasn’t interesting enough. But music happened to be your favorite thing to talk about.

“Oh, I listen to everything. I am lacking a little country and heavy metal on my playlist, but I’m sure it’ll pop up sooner or later.” You shrugged.

“So you’re, like, legit.” He gathered his thoughts aloud.

“As legit as they come.” You responded, earning a laugh from Jungkook. The sound was enough to warm your insides ten fold. The two of you went from one topic to the next, sharing your likes and dislikes. You were being respectful of each other's opinions, but the playfulness was still in full effect. Jungkook even moved from his chair and joined you on the bed to sit beside you so that your knees were touching and your legs dangled over the side.

“You can’t honestly sit here and tell me that Far Cry: Primal is better than Far Cry: New Dawn.” You accused, genuinely shocked.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.” He defended.

“Well—No! Just no. New Dawn’s gameplay and story is so much better.”

“That is a lie and I won’t stand for it.” He crossed his arms and put on his most serious face.

“Oh yeah? And what are you gonna do about it?” You bated him, leaning forward so that your faces were closer than before. You couldn’t justify your actions, not hardly. All you could think about was Jungkook’s irresistible scent filling your nostrils this entire time and clouding your judgement. Along with the alcohol of course.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with understanding of your new intentions and his eyes moved back and forth from your lips to your alluring eyes before he too shortened the distance between you. He reached out to cup your cheek and you instinctively leaned into the warmth of his hand. He guided your mouth to his and it felt like a flame was ignited inside of you when your lips touched. Both of you released small moans of pleasure while exploring each other’s mouths. Hands began to wander and you could feel Jungkook guiding you onto your back as he climbed on top of you, your lips still connected. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and let out a whimper when he began to suck on the skin beneath your ear.

His hand glided up your torso and stopped carefully over your breast. He lifted his head from your neck to look into your eyes. “Is this okay?” He asked barely above a whisper. You quickly nodded your heavy head. You had never experienced anything like this, but it felt good and natural so who were you to refuse? You had to admit you were pretty excited about how this night was turning out.

Jungkook continued to fondle your breasts through your shirt and kiss you breathless, the two of you slowly grinding into each other all the while, legs tangled together. Your skirt riding up as you ground your heat into his jean clad thigh, instinctively seeking your own pleasure from him. To your disappointment, Jungkook pulled away to press his sultry lips to your exposed torso while making meaningful, heated eye contact with you. As if he were asking permission to keep going lower. You didn’t need any convincing. Jungkook was so intoxicating and you were so turned on that you didn’t want to say no to him. You wanted to experience what all your friends already have and spoke so highly of so you nodded at his silent request.

He only looked back down and rolled your skirt up to your waist in response, revealing your black joe boxer panties. He caressed your thighs before gently pushing the fabric to the side, his breath wafting over your core and sending a chill up your spine. He spares one more heated glance at your eyes before licking a delicate stripe against your clit causing your breath to hitch and your body to jerk slightly.

“You taste so good.” He suddenly rasped. All you could do was nervously giggle and cover your face out of embarrassment. His kisses and licks against your sensitive clit turned rougher and more driven so that your back was arched and your hands were fisting the sheets of the bed.

You were a moaning mess at his mercy and your head swam with alcohol and the pure bliss that came from Jungkook’s mouth. The feeling of flying. He suddenly inserted a finger inside of you, only adding to the white heat surging through your veins right now. You instantly place your hand on his head and give his shiny hair a gracious tug. He then moans into your clit at the feeling making you lose it even more.

He adds a second finger and moves his hand even faster while he continues to eat you out like a man possessed. “Oh, f—sss. Jungkook.” You whined, feeling your abdomen and your muscles tighten around Jungkook’s fingers. You knew your orgasm was fast approaching and you were desperate for Jungkook to give you what you needed.

The pleasure Jungkook was giving you was too good to be true. This was the kind of thing you only thought you could experience with your future mate. Your eyes suddenly shot open and you were thrown out of your euphoric stupor. You shouldn’t have let this happen, you should have been strong enough to resist temptation to save yourself for your soulmate.

But it was too late, your orgasm slammed into you with a force that knocked the wind out of you. You forgot how to breathe and your whole body tensed with violent waves of pleasure. You let out a broken cry and unknowingly clamped your legs around Jungkook’s head, who was still very persistent in his actions, hands and tongue never letting up through your orgasm. You had to pry him off of you once you got too sensitive to take it anymore.

“Jungkook, stop, stop, stop, stop.” He finally got the message and sat up again. Your juices covering his mouth and chin, which he wiped away slowly and smeared on his jeans. You both attempt to catch your breath, you especially, before you wordlessly adjust your panties and fix your skirt. You then positioned yourself at the edge of the bed beside Jungkook as you were before.

An awkward silence hung between you before Jungkook spoke.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, looking down. Your head whipped in his direction at the query.

“What? No! No. That was...amazing. I just..I guess I just wasn’t expecting all that. It was my first time.” And you’re human.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought...we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” He reassured you. You let out a heavy sigh and grind your teeth at his words.

“Thanks, but...I don’t think we should do that anymore. Or anything like that.” You all-but whispered. His eyebrows furrowed and his head cocked to the side in confusion.

“Wait, w-why? I thought—”

Because, sadly, you’re not my mate!

“I just think maybe we might be better off as friends. I’m really sorry about this.” You said as you hopped off of the bed and put your shoes on while he sat frozen in one position. You place your hand on the door handle and open it before stopping and risking looking back at him in this state.

Not knowing what else to say, you said “I’ll uh, see you in class on Monday. Bye” and closed the door swiftly, scurrying down the stairs and rejoined the party.

Monday came sooner than you had hoped and you weren’t ready to face Jungkook. You met up with Camille for lunch in between classes at the café. While you ate, you kept thinking about how you would have to man up and soon because you spotted Jungkook enter the café and without meaning to, you locked eyes with him. You froze, but held eye contact out of fear. Whatever he did next, you deserved for what you did last night, you thought. To your immense surprise, Jungkook dropped his permanently cold gaze, smiled a friendly smile and waved at you. You didn’t waste anytime smiling and waving back, hoping that last night wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

He made his way to the register and ordered. He leaned against the wall of the waiting area and pulled out his phone in the meantime. He’s keeping his distance, that makes sense, you thought whilst checking him out. While you eye his figure from across the room, you didn’t notice your best friend eyeing you from across the table. You only had eyes for him in that moment. You didn’t try to conceal your staring even as he made his way to the exit. He smiled and nodded in your direction again on his way out and you smiled sweetly back.

“Okay, did something happen between you two or am I blind? ‘Cause I know it’s not the last one.” Camille asked eagerly. “And where did you run off to during the party? I never asked.”

You snapped out of it and faced her once again. “Well, I got to know J.K. like you said.”

“J.K.?! Are you guys on a nickname basis now?” She exclaimed frantically. You glared at her, sending her a message to lower her voice.

“Yes, he said I could call him that. We met up in one of the bedrooms at the party and we talked. Turns out you’re right, he’s not so bad.” A warm smirk graced your face at the memory of your conversations.

“I. Fucking. Told. You. Don’t forget to thank me at the wedding. Never mind, I most definitely will be thanking myself. No need to worry.” Camille babbled.

“Well, you don’t need to worry because I ruined it before it could even be…an it.” You frowned, aimlessly pushing your salad around with your fork.

“You wanna tell me what you did this time?” Your best friend rolled her eyes at you from across the table.

“We may have kissed—”

“You did what?!”

“Calm down and let me finish!” You whisper-yelled causing her to attempt to gather herself.

“We talked and then we kissed and then we were on the bed and...he may have eaten me out.” You say that last bit at a slightly lower volume.

“WHAT?!” Camille shouts, causing almost every head in the café to turn to her. “Camille, you need to calm down, okay?” You say, not actually giving her a choice this time.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but what?!”

“Yeah, that happened and it was amazing, but it didn’t exactly end well.”

“Why? Did he...did he try to force you?” Camille leaned in. Her voice was definitely lowered now.

“No, nothing like that. He was sweet. I just—I ended up leaving because...it didn’t feel totally right. I mean it felt right, I just, I got the feeling that he wasn’t the one.”

“So you gave up good sex? Boyfriend or not, anyone would kill to have their first time with that guy. Especially that Crystal chick that’s obsessed with him.” The thought of Jungkook with another girl sent a pang of anger through you, but you wouldn’t let Camille see that. It was over, you didn’t belong together.

“Yeah, well no one said anything about murder. Anyway, I backed out, it’s fine. I’ll find my soulmate someday, I’m destined to.” Literally.

“Hey, well if you’re good, I’m good. Now quiz me. I have an exam later.”

Thanks to your encounter with Jungkook, your following class was a lot less awkward than you thought it would be, but you felt the need to apologize one more time.

When class was over, you told Camille to leave without you and you waited outside for him.

“Jungkook.” You called when you saw his mop of hair leave the classroom among the other heads. His eyes found yours instantly and he approached you.

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it goin’?” He asked with a sunny disposition that you could see right through, now that you were face to face.

“I’m good. How about you?”

“I can’t complain.”

You nodded, looking for the words to say. “I just wanted to apologize again for Saturday. And thank you for not treating me like dirt today. I really shouldn’t have done any of that.”

He laughed lightly. “It’s all good Y/N. No hard feelings. You just know what you want and if you only want to be friends then that works for me. I think you’re a great girl and I just wanna know you.” He admitted genuinely. You were touched, but you were almost bothered by how okay he was with everything.

“That’s really sweet J.K. Thanks. I’ll, uh, see you around then.”

“See ya.”

Well that was way too easy.

Despite all of your attempts to expel your Jungkook from your thoughts, the boy and his sinful mouth wouldn’t leave your mind. You begin to wonder if you’ve made a mistake with the whole friends thing and it seems there was only one thing left to do. Finally you decided to hunker down and call your mom.

“Hey, sweetie! How are you?” Her bell-like voice flowed into your headphones.

“I’m good, I think. I just called ‘cause I have a question. About our kind.”

“Oh, I’m all ears, shoot.”

“H-how do you know you’ve found your mate?” You sputter the sentence quickly, hoping you wouldn’t have to repeat it.

“Oh, honey. Are you seeing someone? And you didn’t tell me?”

“No, mother. It was just a question. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Mmhmm. Tell me about him first, then I’ll answer.” You sighed, realizing you had no choice.

“He’s really nice, and funny and good looking.” Your mother giggled over the phone. “But we only shared a moment. I promise, it’s nothing major. That’s my issue.”

“Well, it’s not easy to put into words, but I’ll try. It’s like realizing everything you’ve done has led up to that moment. The moment you meet. It’s like gravity is pulling you towards that person, but you do go willingly to them. All you can see is that person and you would do or be anything that they needed you to be.” This all sounded familiar, but there was one thing missing.

“And they definitely have to be a werewolf too, right?”

“Of course, you know that. And sometimes you can’t even tell they’re your mate unless you meet their wolf. It’s rare and stupid, but I’ve heard stories and I don’t make the rules.” You laugh at her word vomit and continue to catch up properly.

“Things have been just a little stressful over here, but nothing I can’t handle.” You told her.

“Well when’s the last time you stretched your legs?” You tried to think back to the last time you actually let your wolf roam free and you couldn’t remember. “I don’t even know.”

“Well, do! Go down to that creek we found the last time we visited and just run, but make sure no one sees you.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Thanks mom.”

“Of course, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Night.”

You finally found time in your hectic schedule to get away to the woods near the creek you talked about with your mom. You told Camille you were visiting your family last minute so you wouldn’t be back until Sunday afternoon, giving you a solid day and a half to yourself and getting back in touch with your inner animal. You parked your car on the outskirts of the woods, grabbed your backpack full of clothes and necessities and made your way into the trees.

You found a good spot deep enough into the thicket and far enough away from the trail that you were sure you wouldn’t be seen by humans. You hid your backpack in a few bushes and readied yourself for the transformation.

Even though it’s been quite a while it’s like your wolf knew exactly what to do and you were a light gray, seven foot tall werewolf in no time. You could smell all the scents in the forest. You could hear the trees and the moving water from the creek. But you couldn’t hear any people nearby so you knew it was time to start running.

You dug your paws into the soft ground, admiring the natural earth before dashing off into the woodland. You felt free of all the worries you came here with and found yourself forgetting all about midterms and professors and projects and you could just be yourself.

You suddenly stopped on a dime when a familiar scent caressed your nose. Cedarwood and lavender. It was extremely potent and had the collective smell of the forest woven into it, making it one hundred times more appealing. Without your permission, you immediately took off in pursuit of the scent and knew that you wouldn’t stop until you found it. It was calling to you after all, you felt you couldn’t ignore it.

The closer you got to it, you could hear another set of paws pounding at the earth moving with the same urgency as yours. You thought to stop out of fear of making an enemy, but it wasn’t up to you. You had no free will at this point, your wolf had to find the source of this scent.

Your body finally stopped when you came to a clearing, face to face with another wolf. It was dark brown and slightly taller than you. Your body immediately makes itself slightly smaller from the amount of confidence that exudes from the dignified looking wolf. He must be his pack’s alpha, you thought. You both stared at each other from across the clearing and that’s when it happened. The words of your mom from before flood your mind at the sight of the brown wolf in front of you. He’s the one, you thought. Once again your feet begin to carry you to him without much thought and the brown wolf does the same.

You meet in the middle and neither of you hesitate to get familiar with each other’s scents and nuzzle the other, marking each other with that scent as well. You continued this show of affection with your new mate, rejoicing in the fact that the wait was over and you’ve finally found the one you're destined to be with for the rest of your life.

You are interrupted when you feel a large, wet tongue run up the side of your face. You open your eyes to see your mate with his front legs stretched out in front of him with his bum in the air and his tail wagging back and forth quickly. You understand that he wants to play and you assume the same position, waiting for his next move. Seeing this, he took off into the woods and you instantly chased after him.

It took longer than you were proud to admit, but you finally got close enough to tackle him to the ground and the two of you sparred playfully, rolling around on the ground and pinning and nipping at each other. You both carried on like this; chasing, playing and nuzzling until the sun went down and came up again and you tiredly walked back to your backpack in the bushes with the brown wolf on your heels.

Just as you reached your belongings, you heard the footsteps and voices of two hikers. Without thinking, you took off into the forest, as did your mate, but in the opposite direction. You made sure you couldn’t be seen by the hikers and watched as they walked by. But you knew even though they were gone, it was dangerous to be back out in the open at this time. Two humans was enough to cut your roaming time short. Your mate obviously had the same thoughts as you couldn’t smell his scent nearby anymore.

You shifted back into your human form and got dressed in the bush. Cursing those hikers for scaring your mate off, you got in your car and headed back to campus. You didn’t know when you were going to see him again. The thought depressed you, but you promised to be back next weekend at the same time and tried to stay positive as always. “Back to writing papers and dealing with dealing with dickheads again.” You lamented.

As if this week couldn’t get any worse, Camille was sick; meaning you would have go to class and eat lunch and dinner alone, and Jungkook is no longer answering your text messages. He decided you were a shitty person after all, you thought on your way to the local café for your lunch break. As you approach the wall length windows of the café you can see Jungkook sitting at a table right against it with Crystal. Well, there’s your answer right there, you thought venomously. You stop and just watch the two, wondering why this was such a devastating sight when you’re not mated to Jungkook and you’re the one who made him look ridiculous.

As you were standing there looking like a total weirdo and feeling sorry for yourself, Crystal reached across the table to cup the cheek of an oblivious Jungkook and kissed him on the lips. Your eyes widened in horror and your jaw dropped. The betrayal, no matter how unworthy you were of it, felt like it speared a hole through your chest. You didn’t understand why you were ready to collapse in complete agony over someone who didn’t belong to you, but regardless it felt like he ripped your heart out and stomped it into the ground in front of you.

Jungkook pulled away almost immediately with a look of disgust on his face and turned to face you instantly, as if he knew you were there. You locked eyes with a stunned Jungkook and took off without a second glance. This was awkward enough, you didn’t need to confront the situation.

Without warning you begin to feel this crippling guilt and anxiety, even though you didn’t do anything wrong. At least you didn’t think so. You’re distracted by your sudden rush of emotions when you hear Jungkook call your name from behind you. You glance at his desperate, running form before facing forward and continuing on your way. Wherever that was, you didn’t exactly know yet.

He was faster than you thought because in the next second he had his hand on your shoulder and was turning you to face him.

“Y/N! Wait, just wait a second. Let me explain okay?”

“Why? What do you have to explain to me? We’re not together.” You finally admit.

Jungkook cocks his head to the side and squints his eyes in confusion. “How can you...do you not remember?” He asks desperately, needing an answer.

“Remember what? The party? Yeah, all too well.” You say ashamedly.

“No.” He said firmly before thinking aloud. “Was that not you?” He nearly whispered. With your enhanced hearing, you heard clear as day.

“Was what not me?” You were starting to get a little annoyed now.

“Do you not feel that? That pull?”

You look at him, floored. “How do you know about that?”

“Have you had any emotions that weren’t yours recently? Strange feelings at least? I have. I could, I could sense you back there—”

“Okay, what? How do you know that?” You asked, getting overwhelmed. There’s only one way he would know a thing like that, but it couldn’t be.

You allowed him to slowly lean in and take an audible sniff at your neck. “You still have my scent from Saturday.” He said in a satisfied tone of voice, causing you to freeze.

He continued. “And oranges and rosemary.” Another sniff. “And red oak.” It was all starting to make sense. Lavender and cedarwood. You could suddenly smell it all over him, igniting all your senses. He pulled back so he could look you in the eyes deliberately.

You looked back with a new fire behind your eyes. You were too blinded by anger to realize that your mate was standing right in front of you. “I knew it was you.” You said softly before throwing yourself into his arms. He laughed freely, wrapping you in his strong arms.

“You had me doubting myself for a moment.” He said into your neck.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” You pull him into a heated kiss to seal the deal of officially finding your mate and it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. But then you’re reminded of why you were in a mood to begin with. You part from Jungkook and slap his shoulder.

“Why didn’t you answer my messages? I thought you were mad at me.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to show you. “I got a new phone. My contacts didn’t transfer and I wanted to talk to you in person after this past weekend. Took me all of Sunday to put it together, but I finally figured it out. Thank god one of us did.” He said teasing you. You slapped his arm once again. “I wanted it to be more romantic than this obviously, but I guess we can thank Crystal for that.” He said looking up apologetically.

“Don’t worry about that, if she tries it again I can handle her.”

“Then let’s get out of here, boss.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks back in the direction of the café.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, my sweetest darling.” He replies.

You cringe before you speak again. “Better, I suppose.”

He laughs loudly. “I could get used to this.”

“Oh, spirits, What have you gotten me into?” You ask the sky jokingly.

You enter the café and Crystal is still sitting and waiting patiently in the same spot. Her eyebrows raise at the sight of his arm around your shoulders.

Jungkook stands in front of the table and reaches for his wallet while Crystal watches attentively. Jungkook put some money on the table, said goodbye and the two of you left the café once more. You could see her wide eyes and embarrassed, flushed cheeks through the window as you walked away. Jungkook didn’t look back and that brought an impressed and touched smile to your face.

“I’m thinking this calls for a celebration. What do you say to skipping class for the rest of the day?” He asked, placing a kiss on your cheek for...incentive?

You think about it. You only have one more class left, Camille wasn’t here to tell you not to and this was pretty worthy of celebration. You finally found your soulmate and you absolutely adore them. It was a good enough occasion for you. “You know what? Fuck it. Let’s skip.” You say with a huge carefree smile. “Whoo!” Jungkook howls with excitement.

“Alright my lady. How about I actually take you to a way better lunch than the local café?”

“Like on our first date?” You ask sheepishly.

“Exactly.” He says, stopping in front of you on the sidewalk. “Y/N, will you go on a date with me?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I just saw you kissing some other girl, what’s that about?” You fake cringe. Jungkook sighed and closed his eyes.

“Please don’t do this to me.” He begged, making you laugh.

“Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” You grabbed his hand and you both took off in search of a restaurant that suited both your tastes.

He took you to an Italian restaurant nearby, which happened to be your favorite. “Oh, yeah, Jimin told me you liked it once.” Jungkook said when you mentioned it. You laughed at how naïve you’ve been these past few weeks.

“I still can’t believe our friends really tried to set us up together.” You laughed across the table from him as you waited for your food to come.

“Haha, yeah, I guess they knew something we didn’t. Man, we really were late to the party.”

The following three weeks consisted of you and Jungkook making up for lost time and spending time with each other as much as you possibly could. You found out that Jungkook is actually the alpha of his pack, which includes his room mates, Hoseok and Taehyung. They weren’t psyched you were stealing Jungkook away from them all the time, but it was necessary. It made for a true honeymoon phase as your wolves craved the presence of their mate constantly.

You got excited when he invited you anywhere, both of you knowing that you would always accept. This was partly because your wolves desperately wanted to mate with each other and that fact made you incredibly nervous at times. Thankfully, no matter what form you were in, there was nothing forcing you to do anything, but the feeling would always be there, especially when you were together.

Despite a close call in your dorm room, you both had gotten pretty good at ignoring it as you weren’t ready for that step and Jungkook was perfectly fine with waiting. You figured it would happen when it was supposed to and when it did, it would be perfect because every experience with Jungkook was. You just wanted to spend as much time as you could together before the semester ended.

As you both had a test coming up, Jungkook invited you to his campus apartment to study. You jumped at the opportunity to spend the day with him and get some extra help in the course. You both sprawled all your materials on his king sized bed, that you were incredibly jealous of, and sat on opposite ends just focusing on your respective flash cards.

Both of you would ask the occasional clarifying question or make a joke to break up the tension in the room. You were always comfortable with your mate and vice versa, but the air had taken on a fervent energy that you both noticed. After a while, you began to sweat slightly even though the temperature in the room was perfectly cool. Your eyes glance up at him and away again; you wonder if hanging with Jungkook in his room with his perfectly comfortable bed was the right way to go, especially after what happened last time. Jungkook cleared his throat, getting your attention, which was laser focused on the notebook in front of you to avoid thinking about him taking you on this bed.

“What do you say to a little study break? I’m starting to get a little burnt out over here.” He offered, fanning himself with his shirt.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” You agreed.

“I’m gonna break out those snacks you brought.” He said getting up and walking to his desk where you left them, stealing a kiss on your cheek on his way there. You smile down at your lap as your heart skips a beat. His sweet behavior still gets a reaction out of you even after all this time spent together and you relished every moment of it.

Jungkook fetched some chips and candy for the two of you and sat in front of you tailor style. You talk about school and make plans for next weekend when Jungkook leaned forward and placed a kiss on your lips. You felt your body temperature rise and that intense need that you’d grown so familiar with in the past few weeks appeared again with a new ferocity.

Your body leaned right back into his and you savored the kiss before cutting it short, not wanting to lose control. You dropped your head and shook it apologetically. He rubbed your arm comfortingly and gently grasped your chin in his hand, tilting it up to look into your eyes. “Hey, it’s okay.” He uttered.

You look back into his dark brown eyes, wondering what you did to deserve a mate like Jungkook. How blessed you were to end up with someone as generous, charming, respectful, caring, sexy and talented as him. He never failed to act like a complete gentleman towards you and always let you know just how much he loved you, whether it was through words or eye contact or the way he caressed you.

You wanted to show him how much you appreciate him, how much you were legitimately dedicated to him and that you wanted nothing more than to be with him for the rest of your life just as he has. You wanted to show him how much you truly care for him, how much you understand and value what he has to say, how much you love him. You wanted to show him how good he made you feel that first night at Yoongi’s party.

But you allowed your inexperience and fear of the actual event to hold you back from this stage in your relationship that you both obviously wanted. Why am I so afraid? You thought to yourself. Still lost in Jungkook’s eyes and his touch, your need for him was bordering on feral and growing stronger by the second due to the close proximity.

What am I afraid of? We’re literally destined to be together, we both love each other, we’re basically mated for life anyway. Why not make it official? Your thoughts raced around in your head as your eyes fixated on Junkook’s soft lips and your body subconsciously inched closer to his. Your breaths were becoming heavier and more noticeable with the silence in the room.

Something in your mind clicked and you were on him in a second, wrapping your arms around his neck and feeling his lips on yours again. Jungkook obviously had zero complaints as he wrapped his strong arms around your waist and returned your less than gentle attack on his lips with just as much passion. You climbed into his lap, your body seemingly on autopilot as you rocked your hips back and forth on top of him slowly causing Jungkook to grunt into your mouth. He lets out a small moan when your mouth finds his jaw and travels down to the side of his neck. Without warning, your canines extended and grazed Jungkook’s skin; a sign that your wolf was ready to claim him as yours for life.

You realized what you had almost done when Jungkook separated your mouth from his neck and looked into your eyes carefully, searching for any traces of regret most-likely.

“I’m so sorry,” You rasped out. “I didn’t know I was—”

“It’s okay.” Your mate assured you, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing his thumb against it tenderly. “It’s more than alright. I just...Is this what you want?”

You nod firmly. “I love you, Jungkook. I want this.” You said softly, playing with the silky hair at the nape of his neck. He nods, searching your eyes for doubts for the last time then you were kissing again. This time, you had no intentions of stopping. Jungkook clumsily pushed all of your notes and materials off of the bed with one hand before helping you to straddle him as he lay down at the head of the bed.

“Oh, I love you too.” He added quickly against your neck. You giggle at the insertion and grab his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

“I know, dummy.” You whisper gingerly before pressing your lips to his, hoping that he could sense the passion and desire you felt for him in this moment. He smiled fondly against your lips and got to work on your shirt and bra, vocally praising your body all the while.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.” He muttered into your skin, hands caressing your entire body.

You get rid of his offending shirt and toss it behind you without a care in the world as Jungkook’s six pack has stolen all of your attention. As your hands explored the expanses of his newly exposed body, your feral nature returned. You and your mouth made the leisurely trip from his neck to his navel, gladly eliciting the occasional moan from Jungkook.

When you reached your destination, you helped him remove his pants. But before you could attempt to take off his boxers, he flipped you so that he was on top and immediately began planting kisses all over your body making you squirm in the best way.

“Jungkook, please.” You whine after he removes your bottoms.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna make you feel good.” He breathed directly onto your center, causing you to shudder slightly. Your underwear joined the graveyard of clothes littering the hardwood floor when Jungkook spread your lips and lightly ran his tongue along your clit. You couldn’t help, but gasp and twitch at the brief spark of electricity that his actions brought. He held your thighs open to accommodate his head while holding your hips down right before dragging his tongue against your clit in a much more aggressive manner.

Your hand instantly covered your mouth out of shocking pleasure. “Oh, fuck.” You mumbled against it. Your eyelids slowly fluttered closed as Jungkook continued to lap at your clit vigorously. It got harder to breathe as he carried on, pulling all kinds of sounds from you, both human and nonhuman. You finally thread your fingers through his now sweaty hair and grip it so that you could properly grind into his face. You could feel his extended canines grazing your flesh occasionally and the idea turned you on further.

“Oh my God, yes, Jungkook.” You moaned, sensing that your climax was well on it’s way. He suddenly slid a finger inside of you, grazing your g-spot, causing your back to arch immediately. “Oh my God, just like that.” You groaned as He inserted another long, thick finger into you, scissoring them this time.

“Oh, that feels so good, please don’t stop, baby. Please make me cum.” You babbled in your lust filled stupor, hoping that sweet release would come soon. Jungkook focused on finding your g-spot repeatedly and never letting up on your clit, his face was literally buried in your pussy as if he didn’t need air to breathe. The sight in itself was enough to set you off. Your legs shook as you silently came all over your mates face.

When it got to be too much you finally let go of the breath you were holding and let out a short shriek. Jungkook finally came up for air, continuing to scissor his fingers inside of you to make sure you would be stretched enough for him. He kissed you immediately, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue and lips, but you didn’t mind one bit.

He separated himself and withdrew his fingers from you to remove his own underwear and find a condom. As he made his way back to you, you sat up and reached for his hard member in your second attempt to pleasure him, but you were pushed back on the bed for Jungkook to situate himself in between your legs.

He took your chin in between his fingers and stared deeply into your eyes keenly. “We got the rest of our lives for that, but right now, I need to be inside of you.” He growled from deep within his chest, sending even more wetness between your legs. You only nodded showing you understood, sensing that Jungkook was in Alpha mode and just submitted yourself to him, allowing him to do what he wanted to you.

He brought you closer to him, kissing you breathless while lining himself up at your entrance.

“Are you ready?” He asked, making heated eye contact, his hand supporting the back of your neck to keep your foreheads pressed together.

“Yes.” You whispered with no hesitation at all. Jungkook inserted himself into you slowly, savoring the divine feeling of your velvety walls wrapped tightly around his cock. You on the other hand were trying not to let it show how much pain you were in. You felt every inch of him stretch you out, but the kisses that Jungkook peppered all over your face distracted from the pain.

“You okay?” He panted, placing a kiss on your ear.

“Yeah.” You decided after the pain dissipated. “Why do you have to be so big?”

“That’s just what the spirits blessed me with, babe.” He laughed.

“Just shut up and fuck me.” You breathed seductively, reaching down and grabbing his bare ass in your hands, pushing him into you at the new found pleasure.

You both let out a satisfied grunt and Jungkook continues fucking you at a slow pace, both of you savoring the moment for as long as possible before you both grow impatient and frankly ravenous.

Jungkook kneeled upright on the bed, his muscles rippling and covered in a sheen of sweat, his face contorted in pleasure above you. He guided you onto his cock at a rapid pace with his strong arms and hands gripping you at the waist, sure to make bruises in the near future. You couldn’t care less about the rest of the world around you, let alone bruises as you stare up at the glorious man above you in awe and adoration. You were both grunting and growling as you chased your highs together. Your inner wolves are nearly satiated from all these weeks of torture, it was so close you could taste it.

“Fuck, Jungkook, I think I’m gonna cum.” You rasp as you fist his sheets so hard that you think you heard a tear.

He bends down to your ear and growls, “Let go, baby. Come for me. Only for me.” in the most beautifully fucked out voice you’d ever heard and you were seeing stars. You held his waist as close as possible to you with your legs and your eyes rolled back into your head at the amount of electricity running through your veins. In the midst of your mind shattering orgasm, Jungkook attaches his mouth to your shoulder and bites you, marking you as his mate, adding to your pleasure. Your body shook uncontrollably and you could swear you saw white at one point.

As you were coming down, Jungkook’s thrusts were getting dicey and irregular, giving you a sign that he was close. You grip his face and stare into his eyes passionately.

“That’s it, babe. You fucked me so good. Only you make me feel so good. Now come for me, baby. Give it all to me.” You whimpered.

“Ugh, fuck, Y/N!” He shouted. You felt his dick twitch inside of you and you bit him on the shoulder as he came inside the condom, causing him to groan loudly and gaining you some extra thrusts toward the end as he was coming down.

The two of you go on to kiss all over each other’s lips, faces and necks lovingly in post-coital bliss until eventually he rolls off of you and you lay side by side under the shredded covers, just staring up at the ceiling. Or so you thought. You turn your head to find that Jungkook is staring at you and you turn to face him.

“I love you.” He says genuinely with a wistful expression on his face. You reach your hand out to stroke his cheek with a warm smile on your face.

“I know.” You say as your eyelids become heavy. You snuggle into him, wrapping your arms around him and preparing for the best nap of your life. “I love you too.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook au #jungkook #hoseokmylovesworld #wolf!jungkook #wereowlf!jungkook #bts smut

456 notes · View notes