#Mob is the definition of “The more you fuck around the more you’re gonna find out”…

[doodle-empress66]

Which anime character had the best rage moment?

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Coffee Crossfire

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You own a cafe in Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes' territory. You occasionally let him hold meetings in the cafe after hours and things usually go well....but not this time.

Bucky looks around the disastrous mess around him. He's so fucked as he takes note of the shattered windows, bullet holes in the furniture and walls, broken tables and chairs.

You're not going to be happy with him at all.

Bucky looks at Sam and Steve, who've just finished getting rid of the bodies.

"She's gonna be pissed," Sam says looking at the mess.

"I know!" Bucky exclaims and runs a hand through his hair, "Fuck. Okay," he points at his two best friends, "Call up a clean up crew and construction crew. We need to get started on fixing this place up ASAP."

"Got it, boss," Sam says with a nod, pulling out his phone.

Steve approaches Bucky and claps him on the shoulder, "Start planning your funeral, Buck."

"Shut the fuck up, Steve." Bucky pulls out his phone and starts searching for places that are open late. He needs to find you some flowers.

_____________________

You're up late working on paperwork when you hear a knock at your door. You get up from your desk and peer into the peephole. You see Bucky holding a bouquet of flowers and you're immediately suspicious.

When you open the door, you see the flowers and the look on Bucky's face. You cross your arms over your chest and ask, “What did you do?”

He shrugs and responds, “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you got me flowers and you have a look on your face that says ‘I did something bad and you’re gonna be mad at me for it.’”

He gulps and confesses, “…the cafe got shot up.”

“WHAT?!” You look at him with wide eyes. You immediately grab your keys, slip on your shoes, and ready to head out, but Bucky stops you.

“I already have my guys cleaning it up and repairs will start tomorrow!"

You groan and grab the bouquet of flowers, whacking Bucky with them, “Unbelievable, Barnes! I can't believe you!”

“Sugar, I swear, I didn’t anticipate for the meeting to go that way!”

You grunt again, turning around and heading back into your apartment. Bucky follows you in and watches as you toss the flowers onto your kitchen counter, the petals falling off.

"Listen, I promise you, that the meeting was going well and then we were ambushed. They did a drive by. Romanoff and Maximoff were able to track them. Sam, Steve, and I handled the guys in the cafe."

"None of your people got hurt?"

Bucky shakes his head, "Thankfully, no."

"Good, I might kill you myself then," you look at him with a stern glare.

He holds his hands up, "Understandable. But I already have the guys working on cleaning the mess and fixing it up. Might take a few weeks depending on the damage."

"Take me there."

"Sugar-"

"Take. Me. There. Now."

Bucky gulps, "Alright." Bucky leads you out of your apartment and to his car. The ride to your cafe is filled with silence. Bucky knows how much he fucked up.

____________________

Your heart drops when you see the shattered windows and busted door. Sam, Steve, and several of Bucky's men are sweeping up the glass, surveying the mess.

Bucky can't stand the sad look on your face, "Sugar, I-"

"Don't."

You take a look around, any man in your way immediately moves to the side. Your life's work was ruined and all because you decided to set shop in Bucky's territory.

You hold back tears and look at Bucky, "You're going to handle it?"

"All of it. You just let me know what you want and need and I'll pay for it."

"Okay...and, maybe don't have anymore meetings here from now on."

"I understand. No matter what, your cafe will still be under my protection."

"Okay. Can you take me home now?"

"Of course."

The ride back was in silence once more. It drove Bucky crazy because he loved hearing you talk and joke with him. Knowing that he was the reason for your silence absolutely breaks his heart. After dropping you off, he definitely needs to pay the guys who did this a visit.

______________________

You go to the cafe the next morning and see a group of people already working on fixing the windows and doors.

You're also surprised to see Bucky there, very dressed down in a tshirt and jeans.

"Bucky?"

"Oh, hey," he hands you a paper, "Here's a list of things that need repairs or replacements. Just send me the links to any furniture and decor you want."

You take notice of his wrapped knuckles. You immediately grab his hands and look at him, "These weren't like this when I saw you last night."

"Had to give some people a talking to."

"YOU RUINED MY GIRL'S CAFE! NOW TELL ME WHO YOU WORK FOR!"

"Hm. Did they suffer?" you look at him with curiosity.

He smirks at you, "Of course. Romanoff and Maximoff are good at what they do."

"Remind me to buy them dinner later."

He looks at you with a pout, "I helped too!"

"Hardly, I'm sure."

"Well how about I get a kiss since I'm paying for everything?"

"The damage is your fault. I'm not rewarding you for solving the problems you caused, Barnes."

He groans, "You break my heart, sugar."

You shrug, "You'll live," you pocket the list and head to the counter to overlook all of your equipment.

Bucky stays back and watches you for a little bit. He can't deny how much he cares for you, which is why he's working so hard to fix the problems he caused.

He just hopes you'll eventually see how much you mean to him and take his feelings for you seriously.

PART 2 HERE

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[neowonderland]

Different || l.yy

Summary: Yangyang's tired of fucking pretty girls and boys, so he fucks you.

Pairings: Fuckboy! Yangyang x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon, choking, sub! Yangyang, university au

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Yangyang knows you like him so, so much. 

He knows he’s attractive, born with a pretty face, pretty voice, pretty body. Yangyang knows he lives in a different world than you, surrounded by adoring fans who live and breathe for him. Everywhere he goes, people are sure to look and follow. He’s never once had an issue with dating or fucking the most attractive men and women, most of them tripping over themselves to get to him. Of course, he indulges in this. How could he not when it’s so pleasurable? It’s a wonderful feeling to feel beautiful and to be seen with someone so attractive. But, routine is boring to Yangyang.

Maybe that’s what draws you to him initially. 

Yangyang knows you find him attractive. He can see it in the way you look at him, the way you post about your love for him on your various social media accounts, the way that you follow his crowd around. 

You’re one of his many admirers but you’re not attractive at all. It’s almost as if you feed into that, never styling yourself in clothes that flatter you. Yangyang’s never seen you talk with another person, much less go out with a friend or go to any social events. He’s pretty sure you’re not in any clubs or any extracurricular activities. He doesn’t even think he's seen you study on campus. 

Yangyang finds it interesting how you act on your feelings. Your social media accounts are all set to private. Besides his public events, he never sees you around. You’re never pushing your way forward in mobs trying to see him or talk to him, always opting to stay in the back. 

Yangyang thinks it’ll be fun to try to fuck you. 

“Good girl, choke me a little harder.” Yangyang gasps, eyes rolling into the back of his skull in pleasure. Yangyang’s splayed out on your couch, leaning back into the headrest. He looks pretty like this, filthy words falling from his pink, bitten lips, drool leaking from his mouth, cheeks tinged pink, chest heaving. His hands are around your waist, fingers digging into your skin enough to leave a bruise. Yangyang moves you up and down his length helping you ride him.

This was not what you wanted your first time to be like. You didn’t want to fuck him at your place on your old couch. You weren’t ready yet. You didn’t want to be forced into Yangyang’s fantasies. You never wanted to fuck Yangyang, at least not like this and definitely not raw.

You reluctantly tighten your grip around his throat and sniffle as more tears slip down your redden cheeks. Your thighs burn from riding him and the stretch of his length burns. Yangyang didn’t bother to prep you properly, only hastingly working you open just enough to be able to force himself into you. You feel gross, sweaty and sticky from sex. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, my perfect little slut to mold. You’ll do anything you tell you to do, right?” Yangyang babbles, hands moving you up and down faster. You swear he’s becoming delirious with pleasure and lack of oxygen.

“Yangyang–” You try to speak, to tell him once again to stop, that you’re tired, that he doesn’t have to do this to you, that he can find other people much better than you to fuck. 

“I’m so close. Just a little bit more, I’m gonna cum inside you and you’re gonna take every last drop.” Yangyang groans. 

Alarmed, you remove your hands from Yangyang’s neck and try to pull yourself up from Yangyang’s lap as you plead with him not to cum inside you. It’s futile, as Yangyang shakes his head, tightening his grip on your waist and holding you down as he continues to chase his high. 

It’s repulsive as you feel Yangyang cum inside you. You can feel his length twitch and his hot cum fill you up to the brim as he lets out a loud moan. Yangyang's body shudders as he holds you down as he cums, wanting your warmth to milk his length for all that it’s worth. 

You’re stuck in a daze as Yangyang pulls out from you and you hear Yangyang’s phone camera click with a flash. A memento for himself. 

You vaguely hear Yangyang leave, shutting the front door behind him as he exits while you sit on your couch, Yangyang’s cum leaking out from you and making a mess on your couch.

[kaunis-sielu]

Dangerous Places: 2

The warehouse isn’t what you expected inside. On one side there’s a wall with a door in it, that’s where the man carries you, something you think you might be thankful for. The other space is just darkness and you very quickly decide that you don’t want to know what’s in that darkness. When he goes in the door the space is completely furnished, it’s like a whole house has been put into the warehouse. The man brings you inside the space and kicks the door closed behind him, he then deposits you on the counter.

“Stay.” Is all he says before stooping down and opening a cupboard. He’s going to bring out the knives now, you just know it. When he stands he has a white box in his hands and you’re absolutely befuddled. You didn’t think you hurt him but it’s definitely a first aid kit, he pops it open and pulls on a pair of gloves then takes your ankle in his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You snap attempting to yank your leg from his grasp.

“Hey Bunny calm down. You’re bleedin’.” He says softly and to your surprise he’s right. Blood has dripped off your right foot and has landed in deep red drops on the floor. His voice is rich and smooth and you take the opportunity to look at him. He’s a handsome man, brown hair, blue eyes, a neat beard and full lips. He’s concentrating on your wound and is so gentle that you forget for a moment that he’s probably the enemy here. You don’t even know who he is.

“Why am I here?”

“Bucky saw your brand, we wanna know what’s going on.” He says before wrapping some gauze around you foot. Shit, this was what you were worried about, you knew that he’d seen it.

“I don’t-”

“Don’t lie to me Bunny.” He growls checking your other foot, “I’m not to be lied to.”

“I don’t even know who you are.” You snap, you’re so fucking scared that you can hardly think straight. If he’s another mob boss you’re in huge trouble, he could return you, he could kill you or torture you.

“Steve Rogers.” He says glancing up at you before standing and peeling his gloves off. “This is the part where you tell me your name.”

“No thanks.” He laughs softly as he continues to clean up. When he stands he’s still taller than you, he moves to stand in front of you and your heart races.

“Do you know who I am?”

“You said you were Steve Rogers.” Does he think you weren’t listening? He literally just told you.

“I mean in our world Bunny.” When you just stare at him he continues, “I’m Captain.” Your heart plummets, but then hope blooms. Crossbones had talked about Captain, more like ranted about him, and you knew that he wasn’t likely to turn you over to Hydra. Crossbones had hated Captain with a passion and from what you understood the feeling was mutual.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Couple reasons. I want the truth from you and I want you to know who you’re dealing with.” You can practically see the shift in him, the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. “Now Bunny, you’re gonna tell me what I wanna know.”

“If I don’t?”

“You will.”

“You’d hurt a woman?”

“I’ve hurt a lot of people.” He says darkly and you believe him. “Why are you living in my territory?”

“Needed a place to live.”

“There are plenty of places to live in Hydra territory. Who sent you?”

“No one.”

“I told you not to lie.”

“I’m not lying.” He studies you and it’s so unnerving that you can’t help but look away. His hand cups your chin and forces your gaze back to him, it’s an intimate and intimidating move. He studies your face for a moment, then seems satisfied,

“You’re telling me you just happened to end up in the heart of my territory wearing a Hydra brand?”

“If I could remove it, I fucking would have.” You snap pulling your chin out of his hand, you expect to see anger in his eyes but instead you find amusement.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.” You won’t be bullied by a mob boss, not ever again.

“I don’t believe you just ended up in my territory.”

“Then don’t but that’s what happened. Do you honestly think I’d escape this fucking nightmare only to step right back in? The only reason I got involved was to protect Peter.”

“Ah, yes. The baseball bat right?” Again he doesn’t look angry, he looks amused.

“I could show you if you like.” You tell him sweetly and this gets a laugh out of him.

“Cap, this isn’t a fuckin’ date.” Bucky says from the doorway, he moved so quietly that you didn’t even hear him come in.

“It’s the most fun I’ve had in an interrogation in a while though.” Cap says with a grin, he hasn’t moved out of your space so you haven’t gotten to slip off the counter and make another break for it. You would fit through the window but he’d probably catch you quickly. “Why were you protecting Peter?”

“He’s a good kid and I know what this world does to good kids.”

“Are you suggesting that anyone in Hydra was ever a good kid?” Bucky snarks from the doorway.

“I was.” You counter, and it’s true, you had been a good kid. It wasn’t until your dad had died and your mom had completely shut down that you’d gotten mixed up with him. He’d started coming around the house to check in on you, he’d bring food, would fix things that were broken, shoveled your sidewalk and completely charmed you. He’d asked you to be his girl and you hadn’t understood what that meant until they’d gotten you drunk and branded you.

Then the hell started. You hadn’t been able to get away until you’d found out your mom had died of an overdose. One that you knew was supplied by Crossbones. It was then you’d started planning your escape, if you got caught they’d punish you, no one else. You didn’t have anyone else left for them to punish and after a party one night, one you’d managed to stay mostly sober for, you’d ran.

But now you were back. Trapped back in this world because you couldn’t mind your own fucking business.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @vicmc624 @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @sophham @sass-masterkittenmama

[ghostfrog28]

My Greasefire Life as TikTok Sounds

This isn’t going to be like my DennysVerse posts where there are multiple Denny’s, it’s just the Denny’s character in general. Also, not all of these will be exactly like they are online, some or most will be edited.

~~

Lexi: The PH in the soil is too high, I’m afraid I may die!

Denny’s: Fuck yeah, concrete!

~~

Denny’s, who may or may not be drunk: How the hell you spell shofur?

Ashley: Chauffeur

Denny’s: Ooo fancy pants rich mcgee over here! Fuck you 🖕!

Ashley: …

Denny’s: Spelling-bee ass

Thad, also drunk: He gonna give me the definition next

~~

Thad: Honestly, whatever I’m down for whatever

Denny’s: We could go see a movie

Thad: We could get lunch

Denny’s: We could kill someone…

Ashley: …

Thad: Or, the apple orchard!

~~

Denny’s: Let’s fucking go, baby!

Thad: (Elegant music starts) Let’s go~

~~ Denny’s calling Ash after a graveyard shift: Excuse me, I need your help. You need to kill me.

~~

Denny’s and Ash after finding out Thad is Bi: Hope everyone is having a great Pride Month! Shout out to…The Gays🏳️‍🌈✨

~~

Denny’s before she did Ash’s hair: Who the fuck did your hair?!

Ash: (Turns around) what??

Denny’s: No, I’m on the phone, I’m on the phone

~~ 

Denny’s: On a scale of one to ten, my friend, you’re Fucked✨!

~~

(When they saw the mob of angry hippies) Ash: We cannot escape!

Denny’s: We cannot come out!

Both of them: MAMA?! (Thad)

~~

Denny’s, drunk as hell: It’S wIzArD TiME, MoThEr FuCkEr! (Throws Molotov cocktail at Lexi) FiRe BaLl!

~~ Ash: Denny’s, when was the last time you got any sleep?

Denny’s: I don’t know, two-three days? Not important! I don’t need sleep, I need answers! I need to determine where in this Swamp of unbalanced formulas squat is the toad of truth?!

~~

Duke, extremely high: You ever seen a ghost?!

Ash, trying to plead his case to the police: I was over on the bench. I was over on the bench. I was over on the bench. I was sitting over on the bench. I Was Over On The Bench!

Brady: I made a salad with Craisins!

Thad, trying to bail Ash or Denny’s out of jail: Hello, I’m Chip Mulaney, I’m your father!

Duke: But sometimes, he would be gay~

Denny’s, drunk: Ever been to the goddamn zoo?!

DJ Cookie: I used to smoke crack!

Denny’s, either sleep deprived or hungover or both: What’s yesterday??

Denny’s: Shut up! You’re all gonna die! Street smarts!

Denny’s with the thermos: (Something loudly being set down! Boom! Orange juice! That’s life!

Lexi: Now I’ve thrown him off his rhythm!

Denny’s, Ash, and Thad: Give us some money!

Denny’s beating up Lexi: Stay down on the ground! Stay down on the ground, you motherfucker!

Denny’s or Ash: Do my friends hate me, or do I just need to go to sleep?!

Ash, finding a cover story: But why don’t we just tell our relatives, that I’m a four year old boy?

Denny’s: Hey, do you want me to kill that guy for you?!

Ash after his Mitski meltdown in episode 4: I am now gross!

Brady: But what’s this! PEPPA!

~~ That is all for now! I have a lot more and I’ll probably make another soon!

[latetaektalk]

(he)art thief | jjk [i]

“jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?”

genre: heist! AU, thief! jungkook, art curator daughter! oc, ocean’s! AU, fluff, angst, sexual themes/implied smut (in later chapters)

pairing: jungkook x female reader

estimated word count: 14.801

warnings: cursing/swearing, banter, they say dick like once

a/n: it’s here!! hope you guys enjoy it! if you find any typos, no you didnt,, also i rewrote an entire scene today, so yeah im clearly very organised! also, this is loosely based off the ocean’s film! y/m/n refers to your mother’s name btw

Jungkook avoids playgrounds.

Does so because at the tender age of just seven, he fell off a swing. He ended up in the hospital (his first but not last visit); seven stitches, his mother told him, but he could swear it was a million.

Needless to say, Jungkook has been avoiding playgrounds like the plague ever since.

But here he is, in the middle of one, dog leash in his hand, and heart pounding in his chest so violently it might just explode.

A mob of boys runs past him, all of them no older than six—which means that, for the most part at least, they’re harmless—but still, Jungkook flinches. It’s embarrassing, even more so because Gureum turns and stares at him. If one of them should flinch, it should be Gureum, with him being a dog and Jungkook a full grown adult, but God, today is just not his day. He’s stressed! Out of it! Nervous! A wreck-

“Did you just flinch?”

Jungkook feels his heart drop. Fuck, he thought he walked out of sight!

“No, I didn’t, Tae,” he hisses, pressing the earpiece further into his ear.

“You flinched! We can still see you- ah, okay, not anymore. But we saw that-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely did not flinch-”

“Denying it is pointless. We all saw it. Back me up here, Jimin.”

“You definitely flinched.”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, is about to walk back to the car and tell them that they must be hallucinating because he definitely did not flinch when-

“Can you see her already, Kook?” Namjoon asks and for a moment, Jungkook forgot why he is here, you.

He looks around himself, and it doesn’t take him long to find you, sitting on a bench, under a big tree, soft shadows dancing on your skin.

“Yeah, I-I see her,” Jungkook says under his breath.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna need you to focus up then,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook nods like Namjoon could see him.

“Yeah, if you screw this up, it’s your fault if we end up in jail-”

“Tae!” Namjoon warns, and judging from the ‘ow’ that follows, someone punched him. Jungkook’s guess is Jimin.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come,” Namjoon mumbles and runs a hand down his face. “Hey, Kook, don’t listen to Tae, yeah? He’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jungkook mutters, and he means it. He really does know that Taehyung is messing with him, but there’s a part of him that takes it to heart, that is worried sick about how he’s going to fuck this up and be the reason for why they all end up in jail.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Jimin cuts in, taking the phone from Namjoon. “We’ve got your back. All you have to do is repeat after me, say what I say. You’ve got this. Remember what I taught you?”

“Always smile and laugh and never talk about yourself. Keep the conversation about the other person because people love talking about themselves,” Jungkook repeats, and looks at you again, heart heavy in his chest.

He shouldn’t feel like this, wishes he wouldn’t. But he can’t help it. This isn’t how he imagined he’d meet you. Jungkook thought he’d meet you at some fancy event, sipping expensive champagne, or at some luxury clothing store maxing out your parents’ credit card—after all, your mother is a world famous art curator. But instead you spend your time at playgrounds, babysitting.

There’s actually no reason for Jungkook to be this nervous. Jimin did practise with him this exact scenario, but he can’t help but think that with a flute in his hands and some alcohol buzzing through his system, he’d feel more comfortable. But here he is, in the middle of a sea of children.

“Kook, do you copy?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t…” Jungkook pauses. He shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t listening.

“Get your head in the game, please,” Namjoon tells him over the earpiece.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m here,” Jungkook says and starts to walk again even though he still feels fucking lost as a goddamn adult at a playground. Gureum follows him when he tugs on the dog leash.

“Okay, good. Just- just try your best,” Namjoon says, voice a bit muffled. “You’ve got this.”

Jungkook could swear that there’s a waiver to his words.

“Don’t worry. We’re here,” Taehyung tells him before Jungkook can think about it too much, distracting him from the quiver he heard.

He stops behind a tree, close enough for Gureum to spot you, but not close enough for you to spot them. His knees crack when he kneels down to stroke Gureum’s ear.

“Hey, Gureum? I’m gonna unleash you in a second and then I’m gonna need you to run towards,” Jungkook points as discreetly as possible to you, “her, yeah? Just like we practised? Remember? Remember how you ran towards Seok and Yoongi? Do it exactly like that again, okay? If you do, I’ll get you your favourite treat.”

Gureum doesn’t run away instantly when Jungkook unclips him because he’s trained, but when he points at you and whistles, he’s gone.

You react surprisingly calm to a dog barreling towards you, barely flinching. You lean down and greet Gureum.

“Approaching target now,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and can only faintly register how Namjoon tells Taehyung to be quiet from now on, all of his attention on the mission now.

With the leash in his hand, Jungkook jogs towards you, heaving extra hard to sell the act of a dog-owner-who-has-been-chasing-his-dog-for-the-last-ten-minutes to you.

You look up to him when he stops in front of you, eyeing him. Jungkook stands there, bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Uh…. hi,” you start, brows pinched together.

Jungkook puts on his most charming smile, ignoring his thumping heart to the best of his abilities.

“Hi.”

“Oh, we’re starting- okay, showtime: I’m sorry, are you okay? My dog- he just ran and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry,” Jimin says in his ear.

“I-I’m so sorry.” There’s a quiver to Jungkook’s voice, and it isn’t on purpose. “Are you okay? He just ran and I-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a small smile, still petting Gureum who has clearly taken a liking to you. During practise with Seokjin and Yoongi, Gureum always ran back to Jungkook, but now he’s staying at your feet, relishing in your pets. “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, yes, it is. I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a second, but then he ran away and I couldn’t catch up with him. Are you okay?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a moment, thinking it was okay, but-”

“Can you prove it?” you interrupt and Jungkook pauses. “I mean that it’s your dog. It’s just that he isn’t really reacting to you, you know?”

Jimin’s response comes a bit late. “Oh, yes, I can. His name’s Gureum and he is- what’s the breed of your dog again? I don’t remember. If you look at his collar, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, I can,” Jungkook smiles, wiping the non existent sweat from his temple. “His name’s Gureum and he’s a white Maltese dog. If you look at his collar, you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

You actually look at the collar and part of Jungkook is offended that you don’t just believe him. Does he look like a liar to you? “Actually, I have pictures too-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I believe you,” you say before gesturing for Gureum to go back to Jungkook. He does, but somewhat reluctantly and Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret this.

“Ask her if she’s okay again.”

“Are you really okay?” Jungkook says and offers you a smile the way Jimin taught him to. “I really am sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him and wave him off. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it. Just leash your dog.”

And then, you turn away from him. Jungkook stands there awkwardly for another moment before kneeling down to Gureum, absentmindedly petting him, mind filled with questions because what now? How does he communicate to the others that you turned away from him? That the conversation has ended and he has no idea how to start it again?

“What’s going on Kook? Is she smiling-”

“Ah, Gureum, no,” Jungkook cuts in. “Don’t turn away- I can’t leash you if you do that. Don’t turn away.”

“Oh, shit, she turned away, huh?”

“What now, Jimin?”

“Shush, Joon. Let me think, yeah?”

Jungkook fiddles with the leash like he has a problem clipping it, hoping that maybe you’re going to offer him your help. You don’t. And why would you? He’s an adult after all.

Before Jimin can come up with anything though, the solution to the problem presents itself. It comes in the form of a girl running and tripping right next to Jungkook and him catching her just in time before she can faceplant in the dirt and scrape her knees open.

“Oh, hey, careful here!” Jungkook brings the girl back up on her two feet. She stares at him with big eyes, and he recognises her from the pictures. It’s Siyeon, the seven year old girl you babysit regularly, the reason why you’re spending your afternoon at a playground today. ”You okay?”

“Kook, what’s happening right now?” Namjoon asks.

Siyeon looks at you, and you’re already kneeling beside her, fixing her hair.

“Siyeon, I told you not to run. See, you almost fell now!” You say it the same way a mother would, less strict though. “If he hadn’t caught you, you would have hurt yourself, wouldn’t you have? Now, what do you say?”

“T-thank you,” Siyeon mumbles, and Jungkook isn’t sure if she’s staring at her hands because she’s embarrassed or just about to cry.

“Who’s that? Who are you talking to? Who’s he talking to?”

“Was that a kid?”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks Siyeon, ignoring Namjoon and Taehyung to the best of his abilities.

“Y-yes, thank you.” She won’t look at him.

Jungkook smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you didn’t get hurt there.”

“Kook, answer please. Do you need help?”

“Should we interfere?”

Jungkook’s about to snap. Does it seriously sound like he needs help? He’s talking to a seven year old, for fuck’s sake! Sure, he didn’t practise this scenario, but God, he was capable of improvising!

“Thank you. She’s really clumsy,” you say to Jungkook.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m like that too. After all, I let,” he looks down at Gureum and finishes his sentence by gesturing to him and then you. You laugh.

And that’s when Siyeon seems to notice Gureum for the first time, eyes growing big at his sight like she has never seen a dog before. A chance.

“His name’s Gureum. You wanna-”

“Do you think we should go over there? See if he’s okay?”

And with that, Jungkook snaps. Yoongi is going to give him an earful for destroying his oh so precious equipment, but he can’t do this any longer with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung in his ear. So in one smooth movement, Jungkook digs out the earpiece and crushes it between his fingers, hiding it in his hand.

“Sorry, a fly, I think,” Jungkook says, swatting at his ear, and before you can think about it, he moves on. “Do you wanna pet Gureum, S- Is it okay if I call you Siyeon?”

Siyeon stares at Jungkook like he can’t believe he just asked her that. It’s probably the first time an adult has asked her for permission to call her by her name, and she seems to appreciate it immensely because she beams at him and gives him a huge nod.

“Okay, Siyeon, do you maybe wanna pet Gureum? He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jungkook can feel your eyes on him. He’s doing it, charming you!

Siyeon turns to you.

“Can I-?”

You hum. “If Gureum is okay with it-”

Siyeon kneels down. “Hello, Mr Gureum. Sir, can I please pet you?”

Jungkook melts, and so do you.

Receiving no response from Gureum, Siyeon looks back up to you. Jungkook quickly takes his paw and waves. “Hello, Mrs Siyeon, if you promise not to hurt me, you can pet me. I like it especially if humans pet me at the back of my head. Just, please, be nice to me.”

In all of the years he has had Gureum, Jungkook has never tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t sound like a chain smoker. It’s a questionable choice, but he doesn’t regret it. Because not only does it make Siyeon laugh, it also elicits a chuckle from you.

You look at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, and you two rise to your feet when Siyeon starts to pet Gureum and he doesn’t bite her.

“Well,” you stretch out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook swallows the ‘I know’ that wants to slip him and takes your hand. He has to stop himself from bursting with pride, only allowing his smile to grow into a blinding grin.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. It’s really nice to meet you. “I’m Jungkook.”

A Week Ago

“So why do you guys think we’re here?” Taehyung looks around, drumming on the desk. “Any guesses?”

Jungkook swivels in his chair, looking past Taehyung to where Namjoon and Seokjin are standing, watching them try to figure out how to get the projector to work. 

“Probably a job, right?” Hoseok says, snacking on his protein bar. “Why else would we be here?”

“You think?” Yoongi raises a brow. 

“I mean money’s getting tight, isn’t it?” Taehyung hums and Jungkook frowns.

“I’ve barely touched the money from the Jang’s job,” he says, and Taehyung looks away. “Tae, have you blown through your eleven million already? It’s barely been two years since the job though!”

Jimin snorts. “It’s Tae, Kook. What did you expect?”

“What did you spend it on?” Hoseok asks, shoving the last piece of his protein bar into his mouth, balling up the plastic wrapper in his hand. 

Taehyung turns away, a flush creeping up his neck that makes it rather obvious that he most definitely blew all of his money on stupid shit like luxury clothes and cars.

“Jeez, Tae,” Jimin teases, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Get it together, buddy.”

Taehyung gasps. “I’m not the only one with no money here! Yoongi spent all of it too!”

Everybody turns to him, but unlike Taehyung, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to react, offering everybody just a lazy shrug.

“So? What else am I gonna do with money? Save it until I die?” Yoongi combs through his hair. “Plus, I didn’t spend it on stupid shit like Tae did. I spent it on equipment. You’re all benefiting from it.”

And then, Taehyung deflates, mouth sealing shut because he’s got no defense anymore. Lucky for him though, Namjoon and Seokjin finally figured out how to get the projector running, their presentation casted on the wall.

“Ready, guys?” Namjoon asks, walking up to the front and raising a brow. When everyone nods and gives him a hum, Namjoon grins and looks to Seokjin, who’s dimming the lights right now.

“Jin,” he calls out, “what time is it?”

And in the most dramatic fashion possible, Seokjin rolls up his sleeve and looks at his watch, feigning surprise when he sees the time.

“It’s time-for-another-job o’clock,” he gasps.

Namjoon gapes at him. “Oh, is it?”

“Yes, yes, it is. Look.” Seokjin holds up his watch, a grin growing on his lips. Namjoon leans forward and squints even though it’s pointless because Seokjin is standing at the other end of the room.

“I see now! It really is,” he gasps and Jungkook’s not the only one cringing, the others pulling a face too.

“Isn’t that-”

“Please stop,” Yoongi interrupts and gives both a look. “Just start the fucking meeting. This is painful.”

Seokjin sighs deeply. “None of you appreciate our humour.”

Namjoon mirrors him, clutching his heart. “Fine, let’s start.”

And right after Seokjin skips to the first slide; a picture of the National Museum of Korea appears.

“Anybody know what’s being displayed there in three months?” Namjoon asks, gesturing behind him, in serious moed now. He looks around like a teacher waiting for his class to get the answer, and Taehyung’s the perfect student because he practically shoots up in his seat, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

“Tae?” Namjoon points at him.

“‘The God, The Demigod, The Nymph, and The People’, right?” he says, the corners of his lips slowly turning up into a smile. “Are we-”

Namjoon smiles. “Yes, we are.”

And that seems to be the greatest thing Taehyung’s ever heard because his lips splits into the biggest grin possible and he crashes back into his chair with such force he almost topples over.

Jungkook raises a brow. “Uh, what exactly are we stealing now?” 

“This painting,” Seokjin says and clicks to the next slide. It’s a picture of an incredibly detailed and stunning painting, depicting a crowd of people kneeling in front of the Demigod with the God watching above him and a single nymph emerging from the water, approaching the crowd.

Taehyung shuffles in his seat, catching Yoongi’s attention. A teasing smile grows on his lips. “You good, Tae?”

“Yoongi,” he responds and stares him down. “You don’t get it. That painting,” he points it, “is the hottest art piece on the market right now. People are fucking dying to go see it.”

“How hot are we talking about?” Yoongi quips back, clearly thinking Taehyung’s exaggerating. For once, he’s not.

“Like eighty million dollars hot.”

Taehyung says it so casually it takes Jungkook a moment to comprehend, his mouth falling open. He never knew a painting could be this expensive. The information takes a second to sink in with everyone.

“W-wait, what? Eighty million?” Hoseok repeats, eyes gigantic.

“What the actual fuck?” Jimin laughs. 

“Holy shit,” Jungkook curses too because even though they’ve stolen millions before eighty million is still a stupidly large amount of money to them. “Maybe we should have become artists.” 

Yoongi turns to Seokjin and Namjoon.

“How do we get it?”

“Well,” Namjoon starts. “Right now, we don’t get it because it’s hanging out in the Met, but-”

“-in three months it’s coming to Seoul,” Seokjin continues, the transition seamless. “It’s coming right here, scheduled to be displayed,” he skips to the slide of the museum again, “here.”

“What's the security like?” Yoongi asks next, brows furrowed together like he’s already calculating the chances of them successfully pulling off this heist.

“Absolutely insane,” Taehuyng answers. “I’ve already looked into it. Aside from guards, they’ve got multiple independently wired security cameras, pressure sensors and laser nets that are randomly generated, making it fucking impossible for us to plan out way through it. You trigger anything and the doors and windows automatically lock themselves. Not to mention, they’ve got some of the best firewalls out there. Firewalls even you, Yoongi, won’t be able to hack into.”

“So how are we supposed to pull this off then?” Yoongi asks, and Namjoon and Seokjin smile at his question.

“We deactivate their security system.”

Yoongi stares at Namjoon like he’s joking. “Right, because Taehyung just said it was so easy to do-”

“There’s a master code.”

“There’s a- what?”

Namjoon’s smile widens, hands shoving into his pockets. “A master code.”

“Great, isn’t it?” Seokjin hums. “You have the master code and you can overwrite and deactivate the entire security system. One click and shit’s all gone, and we can walk in and out without a worry.”

“A master code?” Yoongi raises a brow. “There’s a master code? Why would they have a master code? That’s so dumb-”

“How do you guys even know?” Taehyung asks, face scrunched up. “I’ve never found anything about a master code when I looked into the museum. You sure that’s reliable information?”

“It’s very much real, Tae. The master code is a six-digit code that’s changed every week,” Namjoon explains. “Now, there are only a handful of people who have it. One of them is,” Seokjin skips to the next slide, “Y/L/N Y/M/N, the museum’s art curator.”

“Where is it kept? The master code, I mean,” Hoseok asks, still fumbling with the plastic wrapper of his protein bar.

“Laptop.” Namjoon puts up his hand before anyone can say anything. “No, Yoongi, you can’t just hack it. The laptop isn’t connected to any network, and actually kept in a safe, in her office, at home.”

“So to get it,” Seokjin continues, “we have to physically grab it from the laptop. Which means-”

“- that one of us has to get in,” Namjoon finishes the sentence. “Because—” the next slide reveals the kind of house Jungkook has only ever seen on TV, the kind of house reserved for the filthy rich, for people that Jungkook and the others steal from; neatly cut hedges, a big golden gate, white pristine columns and a perfect red mailbox, “—breaking into the house is rather difficult. They’ve got several security cameras around the property, a gate and a housekeeper who is always in and out of the house.”

“And to get in, we need,” Seokjin pauses, skipping to the next slide and a blurry picture of you appears, “her. Y/L/N Y/N, daughter of Y/M/N.”

“Because her mother never invites staff back to her home, getting the master code through her is impossible. But if we get close to Y/N, well, then it’s a cake walk.” Namjoon smiles. 

“What about the safe the laptop is kept on?” Jungkook asks and Namjoon waves him off.

“Don’t worry about that, we’ve got the code for it.”

Jungkook’s about to ask where they got it from when Jimin cuts in. “And what about the guards at the museum? We deactivate the security system, but someone’s gonna notice that, right?” 

“Surprisingly, the museum barely has any guards at all,” Seokjin laughs, shaking his head. “And the handful of guards that they do have are inept, to put it nicely. They’re the least of our problems.”

“So let me get this right,” Yoongi sits up, closing his eyes as he tries recalling the steps of the plan, “we have one of us,” he looks at Jimin, “you, infiltrate their family, get the master code and then I’ll deactivate their security system during the heist and Hoseok just… goes and gets the painting?”

Namjoon raises his hand, clicking his tongue. “Not really- I mean, yes, but the other problem I haven’t mentioned yet is that Y/M/N’s always at the museum-”

“- except when she’s meeting new artists and inspecting their work for the next big exhibition,” Seokjin says and turns to Taehyung. “You like to paint, right?”

Taehyung laughs and rolls his eyes, the question pointless because it’s been long established that Taehyung likes to paint. After all, he’s their art guy.

“So we have Jimin get close to Y/N and Taehyung pose as an artist?” Yoongi corrects and Namjoon nods.

“We’re pretty much just pulling a Night Owl and Circus Mirror then, right?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook stares at him like he’s grown a second head, none of the terms making any sense to him. But Seokjin understands him perfectly.

“Plus Twin Swap,” he adds.

“Twin Swap too? Really?”

“Yeah, why not?” Seokjin grins.

“Any other questions?” Namjoon asks, already turning off the projector, assuming there aren’t any because most heists are usually more or less the same.

Namjoon and Seokjin come up with a foolproof plan, Jimin plays the inside man, Yoongi hacks into the security system, Taehyung poses as an artist or buyer or whatever pretentious artsy person they need for the job, and then Hoseok alongside Seokjin and Namjoon, maybe even Taehyung and in the rare cases even Jimin, break in and get whatever they’re stealing. And then, there’s Jungkook… stuck being the wheelman of the group, responsible for their gateaway.

Truth be told, Jungkook hates it.

Since everyone else had a clearly established role in the group when they brought on Jungkook, there wasn’t anything left for him to do than be the wheelman. So he’s been doing that for the past three years, but if offered, he would definitely switch his role.

Jungkook’s not trying to be ungrateful here, he’s aware of how lucky he is—after all he became a millionaire by just being a glorified uber driver—but he just… wants to help out more, play a more central role during the heists. Because, well, being a wheelman is boring, to put it nicely.

And look, Jungkook knows he lacks experience in comparison to the others, knows he still has a lot to learn—it’s why he has been okay with being the wheelman—but now, after almost three years of being stuck behind the wheel, Jungkook wants to branch out, grow into an even better thief, show the others how much he has improved, prove himself to them.

“Uh, I have a question” Jungkook coughs out, and Namjoon stops and looks at him. 

They all turn to him, and all of a sudden, his heartbeat spikes. Jungkook shifts in his chair and clears his throat, knowing that he has to do this now, that this is his chance and if he doesn’t take it, he won’t ever. 

“I-I was wondering if I could maybe do something else,” he says, voice shaky. “During the heists, I mean.”

“Oh,” Namjoon says, clearly surprised by his question, turning to Seokjin. “What do you think?”

“I see where Kook is coming from,” Seokjin begins, scratching his head. “He’s been an excellent wheelman, but that’s not the role you chose, is it?”

Namjoon hums. “What could you do?”

The question isn’t directed at Jungkook but Seokjin. That’s fine, he thinks to himself. He understands. The others know better.

“How about he comes with Hoseok and us when-”

“How about he gets the master code?” 

Jungkook turns to Jimin, staring at him like he has grown a second head.

“What?” Jungkook pauses long enough for Jimin to tell him he was joking. He doesn’t. “W-what would you do?”

“I could still infiltrate. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea if we had someone on Y/M/N’s team too, right? In case she abruptly comes back or raises suspicion during the heist,” Jimin explains, and Jungkook looks to Namjoon and Seokjin. They stare back at him, no expression on their faces. It’s obvious though. They have their doubts, and so does Hoseok judging from the slight frown. 

Jungkook can understand. He’s worried too. Transitioning from being a wheelman to helping out Hoseok during the heists is the most logical conclusion. This way he’d be working on a team, have others around to save his ass if he was to mess up. But being an infiltrator? That’s going solo, one of the riskiest roles to take on.

And even though infiltrating is something Jungkook has wanted to try to do forever now, there’s a part of him that’s hesitant to jump on the opportunity. After all, if he fails to get the master code, the plan falls apart. He has to get his part right, or they are fucked. It's a huge responsibility, a responsibility Jungkook isn’t completely sure he can bear.

“Who would do transportation then?” Seokjin asks.

Yoongi raises his hand. “I could do it. I can hack from anywhere.”

And then it’s quiet.

“So, Kook,” Namjoon clears his throat, “you up for the challenge?”

Jungkook doesn’t miss the look Namjoon shares with Seokjin. He knows exactly how to interpret it. And while he understands completely, he wishes that they’d have more faith in him. He knows that he doesn’t have much faith in himself right now either, but maybe he would if they believed in him at least. The fact that they don’t hurts him and his pride, bruises his ego, pushes him in the end to give the answer that Jungkook maybe shouldn’t have given.

“Y/N’s her name, right?”

When Jungkook walks into the safe house with the others, Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi are already there to greet them. Seokjin’s eyes are searching their faces for signs of defeat, signs of ‘Jungkook fucked it up and now Jimin has to step in’. 

“And?”

Namjoon, Jimin and Taehyung turn to Jungkook.

He grins. “Went well.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin breathes out when he nods. “Great!”

“Don’t worry, Jin,” Taehyung tells him, patting him on the shoulder as they move into the living room, the hallway too small for seven people.

Jungkook throws himself on the couch because god, he’s tired. Physically he didn’t do much, but mentally he feels like he just took the SATs.

“Oh, just remembered.” Jungkook digs around in his pocket, pulling out what was left of the earpiece. He hands it to Yoongi. “I’m sorry. I had to.”

“What the fuck, Kook?” Yoongi stares at the earpiece, well, what was left of it. 

“They wouldn’t stop talking!” Jungkook defends himself and points at Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung. “I had to, for the sake of the mission! If I didn’t, it would have failed.”

“You owe me,” Yoongi grumbles, and Seokjin pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Taehyung begins, “I was thoroughly impressed by Kook today. He talked to her for like two hours straight, and he did it all without the help from a certain someone,” he eyes Jimin, who freezes and stops petting Gureum, ”because they choked up.”

“Shut up, Tae,” Jimin mumbles. “It’s not my fault that Y/N was nothing like I expected her to be.”

“What did you expect?” Hoseok asks and takes a sip from his protein shake. 

Jimin wrinkles his nose. “Well, usually children of these rich art people are all more or less the same: snobby, arrogant, annoying, superficial, shallow. That kind of stuff. But she was just… normal. It threw me off! I had an entire plan, but she didn’t bite-”

“I’m sure you did,” Taehyung teases and laughs when Jimin glowers at him.

“I did! I had a plan-”

“That’s what I’d say too if my position was in danger-”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Seok!” Jimin huffs. “You have no idea what it’s like to-”

“Enough, enough,” Seokjin cuts in, clapping his hands together. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that Jungkook did a great job today. Let’s celebrate that, yeah? How about pizza? I’ll pay.”

And while Yoongi furiously makes his case for pineapple pizza to the others (again), Namjoon leans over to Jungkook.

“Good job.” 

Jungkook smiles, his cheeks hurting a bit from how big his smile is.

“Thank you.”

The next time Jungkook sees you, you ask him what he does, and Jungkook repeats back to you what Jimin tells him to say. He’s a freelancer, he says. It isn’t a lie. But he conveniently leaves out the fact that he’s freelancing in… theft. The praise rings a little louder in Jungkook’s ears this time.

Four days later, he sees you again. This time there’s no Jimin in his ear, no one waiting in a car in the distance. You tell him about your dream of becoming a teacher, and how much you adore Siyeon. He gets it. It’s hard not to like her. Gureum looks sad when they have to go. The others pay for Jungkook’s dinner.

Two days after that, the sun’s shining bright, hanging high in the sky, when he approaches you. You look up with a smile. Jungkook left Gureum at home.

“Hey-”

“Can I have your number?”

Jungkook knows for a fact that he shouldn’t ask you like this, that this isn’t the smoothest and most charming way he can do it, but he thinks he will lose all of his courage if he doesn’t ask you immediately. And he can’t go back to the others without your number.

You blink at him before grinning. “Sure.”

Hoseok puts Jungkook in a headlock when he shows them your number. “Ah, I knew you could do it!”

And even though Jungkook can barely breathe in this position, he grins. How could he not? Getting your number just proved himself to the others. No one could deny it, he was useful! Capable! 

“God, where’s Jimin when you need him?” Hoseok groans, and Jungkook wishes the older would be here too. Because almost an hour has passed and they still haven’t settled on a text to send to you.

“Why can’t we just call him and ask him what to text?” Yoongi throws his head into his neck. It’s a rhetorical questionbecause they all know why. Jimin’s out with Seokjin right now, putting in the steps to get him on your mother’s team. Do not call or text unless there’s an emergency, Seokjin told them.

So Jungkook’s stuck with consulting Yoongi and Hoseok instead. It takes ages, but by the end they settle on a boring ten word text that Jungkook can no longer recall now. He throws his phone away the moment he has hit send and goes for a shower.

When he comes back, you have responded. He probably shouldn’t if he didn’t want to sit there for another hour again, but Jungkook goes and looks for Hoseok and Yoongi. But they’re nowhere to be found. They have dipped. And when Jungkook walks into the basement where Taehyung is, he gets an old paint brush hurled at him. 

So, Jungkook sits down in the living room and texts you all on his own.

Turns out, texting you is actually… easy. It’s most definitely not credited to Jungkook’s social skills, but more so to the fact that you’re simply easy to talk to.

Somehow, Jungkook ends up texting with you for the entire remaining week, from morning to night, his phone never leaving his hands.

He starts to enjoy texting you.

And it shows.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung gasps when they’re all sitting around in the living room and having take out together. Jungkook jerks his head up. “Look at that smile on your face! Who are you texting? Y/N?”

Jungkook stares back at Taehyung, tongue tied. 

“Oh my god, he’s really smiling,” Jimin gasps, and Yoongi looks too, smirking when he sees the flustered look on Jungkook’s face.

“What? I-I’m not smiling!” Jungkook tries as a defense and puts away his phone, grabbing his box of noodles.

“Sure you’re not,” Taehyung cackles before winking at him. “You liar.”

Hoseok snorts and Namjoon chuckles to himself, exchanging a look with Seokjin.

“Just eat your fucking food,” Jungkook hisses and turns away. He has to admit though, his cheeks do hurt a little bit.

The first phone call happens two week after he’s first met you. Jungkook initiated it. He didn’t want to. Not because he didn’t want to talk to you, but because he was scared of rushing things and scaring you. But the others insisted that it was time and assured him that it was fine. 

If she hasn’t ghosted you yet, then you’ve got nothing to worry about, Hoseok told him before going on a tangent on how Jungkook’s a horrendous texter and anyone willing to put up with it must, at least, like him (or pity him, according to Taehyung).

“Hey?” Jungkook says, nibbling on his bottom lip, when you pick up.

Jimin and Seokjin are here too, carefully watching him and listening in. Seokjin’s sitting on Jungkook’s old office chair that squeaks with every move, a pack of crackers in his hands, and Jimin’s lying in his bed, Gureum resting on his stomach, relishing in the pets Jimin’s giving him.

Jungkook wants to make it clear, he does not want them here. He protested this, telling them that he was capable enough to have a phone call with you on his own without supervision, but they wouldn’t listen. It’s frustrating, but Jungkook gets it. If he fucks this up, says the wrong thing and offends you, the plan is fucked and they have to start all over again. 

“Hey,” you say. “How’s your day been?”

Jungkook gives Jimin and Seokjin a quick look before scooting away from Jimin, the mattress dipping when he shifts his weight.

“Good,” he starts, running a hand through his hair. “It’s been… boring but good.” He’s silent until Jimin kicks him. Jungkook scrambles for words. “H-how about you? How’s your day been?”

You’re quiet for a second and Jungkook thinks he has just fucked it up, but then he hears you chuckle. 

“I’m good too,” you say. You’re teasing him, your tone making it very obvious.

“Yeah? That’s great to hear,” Jungkook laughs and internally curses Jimin and Seokjin because if they weren’t here, he wouldn’t be nervous. Yes, they’re the only reason for why he’s nervous. There’s no other reason for why his heart is beating as fast as it is. It’s all their fault!

“Jungkook,” you say and he perks up. “Are you nervous?”

He buries his face in his hands. You asking him this would already be bad enough if you were alone, but with Jimin and Seokjin here to witness it, Jungkook wants for the earth to swallow him up. Even though he isn’t looking at the two, desperately avoiding their gazes, he can see the smiles on their lips, how they grow into smirks. He wants to punch both.

“No.” 

You laugh. “Stop lying.”

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not,” you say with a scoff, offended by the assumption that you’d laugh at him.

“Sure, you’re not,” Jungkook says quietly, feeling the tension in his shoulder blades.

“Well,” you say and judging from your tone, you’ve given up on trying to deny the truth. “Are you seriously expecting me not to laugh at you when you’re nervous just because we’re on the phone together?”

“W-who said I was nervous because we’re on the phone?”

“Hah, so you admit it! You’re nervous!” you cheer and you sound too happy for his liking. Jungkook presses his lips together, cheeks burning. 

Maybe they just got bored of listening to you two talk or maybe they just want to offer him some privacy and get off his back, but Seokjin and Jimin slowly get up. ‘Keep going!’ Jimin mouths, slowly picking up Gureum, and Seokjin shoves the last few crackers into his mouth, chewing as silently as he can. Jungkook breathes out when they shut the door.

“Told you you’re nervous,” you continue, and Jungkook snaps back.

“God, shut up,” he groans with a playful eyeroll, and lets himself fall on his bed, splayed out like a starfish, his phone pressed to his ear. “Why don’t you tell me about what you did today?”

“You’re just changing the topic because I’m right,” you snort. “But fine, I’ll be so nice and let you change the topic.”

And then you continue telling Jungkook all about your day; how you woke up late for class today and your stomach growled in the middle of class because you didn’t have breakfast. You complain to him about how much you hate your professor and how you don’t understand how he’s supposed to teach you how to become a teacher when he sucks at teaching himself.

Jungkook listens to it all, intently, especially when you start talking about the boy Siyeon met on the playground today. And as he listens to you, he wonders if he should have gone to college too, taken up a more honest job, if this was maybe the wrong path. He stops himself from thinking about it too deeply.

He isn’t sure how, but you end up talking about cinnamon rolls, and when he tells you he’s never had one before, you let out one dramatic gasp.

“You’re kidding. How?”

“I don’t know. It’s not that big of a deal-”

“Not that big of a deal?” you repeat. “Jungkook, listen, you’re missing out- have been missing out! I can’t believe this!”

Jungkook laughs. He likes how dramatic you’re being. He finds it cute how you get upset over such little things. “Well, how about we change that then? Take me out and get cinnamon rolls with me?”

You click our tongue. “I’m not gonna do that,” you tell him. “We’re gonna make them ourselves instead. The store bought shit doesn’t hold up.”

Jungkook blinks three times before it clicks with him and he shoots up from his bed, a huge grin spreading on his lips.

“I don’t have any baking equipment though,” he says and he hopes you will take the bait, invite him to your place. You do.

“Why am I not surprised to hear that?” you laugh. “Just come by my place.” Jungkook shoots up from his bed, feeling this spark of energy growing in him. He could dance. “You free this weekend?”

“Yeah!” he says, probably too quickly, and bites his hand to stop himself from sounding too happy. “I’m free. No plans. None. This weekend sounds perfect.”

Maybe his excitement leaks through his words, maybe it doesn’t. Either way, you laugh, and Jungkook thinks he’s never heard a more lovely sound. “Great, I’m looking forward to baking with you then!”

Jungkook catches himself in the mirror, surprised to see how big his smile is. It’s practically spilling over.

“So am I.”

Jungkook doesn’t know if he likes or hates this, standing here at the top of the stairs, waiting for the others to gather downstairs so he could walk down and reveal his outfit to the others. Because how funny would it be if we did that? Jimin said. All Jungkook wants to do now is curse at him. 

He smooths down his white button and adjusts his black jeans. Pulling up his sleeve, he glances at his silver watch that matches with his necklace.

“You can come down now, Kook!” Taehyung calls from downstairs, and Jungkook cringes at his voice. Slowly and carefully, he takes the first step.

Almost instantly whistles ring through the air. Jungkook wants to run up the stairs again. He resists.

“You look good!” Namjoon tells him, and Taehyung cuts him off by taking Jungkook by his arms, his mouth wide open as he looks at him.

“Look at you, buddy! Actually wearing shit that fits and doesn’t just hang off your body.” Taehyung’s repeatedly slaps Jungkook’s shoulders, soon transitioning into shaking him. Like he wants to make sure that Jungkook’s actually real. “I never thought that I’d see you in anything but your sweats and oversized shirt!”

Jungkook brushes Taehyung off of him, enough of the abuse. And even though he rolls his eyes, he’s smiling, grinning almost because okay, maybe he does like this. Maybe he does like the attention, the praise, the approval, the validation.

“You look like you’re about to attend prom or something,” Jimin grins.

“I know! I feel like a parent sending my son off to prom.” Hoseok places his hand on his chest, faking a sniffle. “They grow up so fast.”

Jimin puts a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and gives him a wisteful look. “I raised you so well.”

Taehyung snorts. “You didn’t raise shit-”

“Yeah, if anything, I raised him well.” Seokjin points at himself.

“You?” Jimin scoffs. “Pretty sure you didn’t do shit-”

Before this can get out of hand, Namjoon steps in, trying to deescalate the situation, emphasis on trying. “Let’s say we all raised him well-”

“What? What are you talking about?” Jimin scoffs. “If it wasn’t for me recruiting his ass, Kook wouldn’t be with us.”

“But who recruited your ass?” Seokjin argues, gesturing around himself. “Me! And who told you to look for someone to recruit? Exactly, me again-”

“Mom, dad,” Jungkook says, placing a hand on both of their shoulders. “Hate to be the one, but if you guys keep arguing, I’m going to be late for prom.”

“Prom!” Seokjin exclaims with a level of drama only he could conjure up, continuing like he wasn’t just about to fight Jimin. “God, you’re all grown up now. I can’t believe we’re sending you off to prom-”

“Yeah, it’s unbelievable,” Yoongi deadpans. “Except that we’re not actually sending him to prom, but to Y/N to get close to her and get the master code.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes at Yoongi, mumbling something about him being no fun, but he just ignores him.

“And instead of losing his virginity and planting his dick,” Yoongi digs around in his pocket and pulls out a bug, “he’s going to plant this.”

Jungkook stares at the bug like he has never seen one before. “Wait, what? I’m planting a bug too? Why-?”

“Just in case,” Namjoon explains. “Maybe we’ll hear something that will be interesting.”

“Yeah, why not?” Hoseok says and Jungkook just nods because he always nods and agrees.

“Okay, listen up, dude.” Yoongi snaps his finger. “Do you remember the blueprint of the house? We want you to stick it in the office. You remember where it is right? On the second floor, next to one of the twenty bathrooms. It’s best if you stick the bug to the underside of the desk, and remember you have to activate it-”

“I know how to use a bug. I’ve done it before. You don’t have to explain.”

“You said that with my earpiece too. And what happened to-”

“I said I was sorry.”

Yoongi grumbles and hands him the bug, but not without adding that this was his last chance.

“Okay, so can I go now?” Jungkook asks, glancing at his watch. He really should get going. He doesn’t want to keep you waiting. It’d be rude.

Namjoon holds up his hand, and leans over the couch, and Jungkook’s eyes grow big when he sees what it is.

“Don’t make that face,” Seokjin laughs. “You’re wearing a button down already. You might as well.”

Namjoon shoves the bouquet of flowers into Jungkook’s hands. 

“Ready?” Jimin asks and Jungkook looks at him, at the flowers in his right hand and the bug in his left. He takes a deep breath and gives them his best smile.

“Ready.”

Jungkook waits for you to open the door, and when you do, his smile drops.

“Oh.”

It isn’t you. 

It’s Yerim, your best friend. 

“Hi,” Jungkook starts and puts on a smile. “Sorry, I- I’m here for Y/N?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Yerim crosses her arms in front of her chest. “That’s you, right?”

He shifts from one foot to the other. “Yeah? And you-”

“I don’t like you.”

Jungkook stares at Yerim and she stares back at him, her gaze hard and penetrating. Looking into her eyes, he feels like she can see through him, detect the bug in his left pocket, read his mind and figure out that he’s only getting close to you to steal from you.

“I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. Not even the slightest,” she says nonchalantly. “I don’t know you, but I don’t like you-”

“Yerim!” you hiss sharply, appearing behind her. “Stop this!”

“I’m not doing anything.”

You call bullshit, rolling your eyes and pointing behind you. “Just go inside, please.”

Yerim doesn’t budge when you tug on her arm. Only when you repeat her name does she move, but not without fixing Jungkook with a long look. I’m watching you. 

“Sorry,” you sigh, gesturing for him to come inside. You give him a pair of red house slippers and he changes out of his black chelsea boots for them.

“Did you have difficulties finding the house? I know the hedge blocks it a bit,” you say while walking inside.

“No, no, the directions you gave helped,” he lies. He didn’t need them. He has done his research before, surveilled your house with the others already.

Jungkook scans the living room. It looks nothing like he thought it would. He expected for it to be overly modern, sleek, and minimalistic. Instead, it’s properly furnished, plants sitting on the window sills, books spilling from the shelves, colourful artworks and family pictures decorating the walls, fuzzy rugs on the floor. It looks like a proper home. 

And right in the middle of the couch is Yerim. Even though she’s on her phone, Jungkook knows that she’s watching him, keeping an eye on him-

“Are those flowers?” He snaps his head around. “You brought flowers?”

The question hangs in the air and takes him a moment to understand. When Jungkook does, he feels the need to hide them and tell you to forget it, but then you grin at him and his heart stops.

“I- yeah, but I just-” he stops himself. Jungkook isn’t sure what this feeling in his chest is.

“Well,” you say with a heartwarming smile. “They are for me, right? Are you gonna give them to me then?”

“Right, uh, yeah.” He offers them to you, awkwardly. “Uh, h-here.” 

You inspect the flowers before burying your nose into them and taking a big whiff.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you say with a laugh. “You know how on TV people always smell flowers? I always wondered if flowers really smelt that great.”

Jungkook grins. “And?”

You crinkle your nose and give the flowers one more sniff, shrugging. “Eh.”

Jungkook laughs and you join him.

“Right, yes, hi, hello, I’m also still here.” Yerim waves her arms around.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you smile and share a look with Jungkook. “I haven’t actually introduced- that’s Yerim. My best friend.”

Jungkook nods like he doesn’t know already, and stretches out his hand. “Hi, I’m Jungkook. Nice to meet you.”

Yerim just stares at his hand. Awkwardly, Jungkook pulls it back. 

“Yerim!” you hiss the same way you had just before. You turn to him. “Sorry, she’s actually really nice and-”

“Yeah, but not to you because I don’t like you,” Yerim interrupts.

“Yerim!” you repeat for the third time, gaping at her. “Just- just give us a minute, yeah? Find a vase for the flowers, please?”

Clearly, Yerim isn’t happy about being sent away, but she does seem to understand why you do it. Jungkook has a feeling though that she usually doesn’t do what she’s being told to.

“Sorry, again,” you repeat when she’s gone, and Jungkook waves you off. “No, seriously. She-” You wrinkle your forehead and sigh, walking around and sitting down on the couch. He follows you. “She’s just protective of me.”

“I’ve noticed.”

You scrunch up your face, frustration tucked into every line of your face. “She just thinks I’m too trusting. It’s why she’s here by the way. She didn’t want me to be alone with you the first time I invited you over.”

“Oh, your parents-”

“Working.”

He nods and thinks for a second before humming. “Well, I think it’s nice that she cares about you.”

“It’s not so nice when she jumps every guy I talk to.” But you clearly don’t want to keep talking about it because you wave your hand around and change the topic. “Why are you so dressed up?”

Jungkook looks down at himself, the question surprising him. “Ah, well, I, uh-”

“It looks like you’re going to prom or something,” you laugh and tug on his shirt. You’re mocking him, but he doesn’t feel offended or the need to defend himself. In fact, Jungkook laughs with you.

“Jimin said that too,” he lets slip and Jungkook’s quick to explain. “A friend of mine.”

He says it a little awkwardly, the words not rolling off his tongue quite right. It isn’t a lie, but it also doesn’t feel like the whole truth either.

If you notice the awkwardness, you don’t say anything. You just hum and nod, pausing a second to think before dropping your hands to your knees with finalty.

“Ready to bake some cinnamon rolls?”

Jungkook can’t remember the last time he has baked something. To say that he’s practically useless in the kitchen is therefore no exaggeration. He confesses this to you, tells you that he isn’t sure how much he can help you, if at all. You laugh at his confession.

“I’ll coach you through it,” you tell him with a grin, and pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll be your teacher.”

He’s measuring out the sugar and you’re warming up the milk on the stove next to him when Yerim walks in, flowers now in a pretty and rather expensive looking glass vase.

Jungkook forgot she was here too. 

“You’re seriously-” She cuts herself short, groans instead.

“What?” You don’t take your eyes off the stove, continuously stirring the milk.

“I thought you were joking when you said you’re gonna bake,” Yerim mumbles, walking in without sparing Jungkook much of a glance, putting the flowers in the middle of the kitchen island. 

“Seulgi just called.”

“And?”

Yerim sighs and gives Jungkook a quick glance.

“She forgot her keys.”

You jerk your head up. “Oh. What are you still doing-”

“She said she was gonna grab some groceries first. I’ve got time. But I still have to go,” Yerim mumbles.

You turn off the stove. “So go.”

Yerim’s face soures at your suggestion. “Yeah, but-” She glances at Jungkook instead. He asks himself if she’s trying to be subtle at all. 

You deflate at her words, face twisting with frustration. At least that’s what Jungkook thinks you’re feeling. It might also be annoyance. Maybe even both. He still can’t read you confidently.

“Yerim-”

“Uh,” Jungkook starts, and you both look at him. He offers a smile. “I-I’m nice, you know. You can trust me. I’m a…. nice guy.”

Great. Nothing sounds more trustworthy than a guy claiming to be a nice guy. Maybe Jungkook should add that he also enjoys watching girls when they sleep. It’s definitely going to convince Yerim and you.

Jungkook’s about to explain himself, but then you put your hand on his arm. “It’s fine, Kook. Just keep measuring the sugar. We’ll be back.” 

Before Yerim can protest, you pull her into the hallway. Jungkook tries listening to what you’re saying, but he hears nothing.

He pulls out his phone, partly to offer some updates to the others and partly to ask for help because god, he really just fucked that up, huh? The responses follow immediately, like they are all just sitting in front of their phones and waiting for Jungkook to text them.

[yoongi - 12:57] : have u planted the bugs yet

[jungkook - 12:57] : no

[jimin - 12:57] : wdym there are other ppl too??

[yoongi - 12:57] : plant it then

[seokjin - 12:57] : Do you need help?

[yoongi - 12:57] : remmeber u have to activte it to

[jungkook - 12:58] : her best friend’s here to

[hoseok - 12:58] : lmao i thought this was a date or smth

[seokjin - 12:58] : Kook, do you need help, or no?

[namjoon - 12:58] : Do you need us to come get you out of there?

“Sorry,” you say, and Jungkook immediately shoves his phone back into his pocket, like it’s a secret that he has one. You frown, but you don’t push it. “She went home.”

“How’d you convince her?” he laughs and leans against the counter. You take the butter out of the fridge.

“I’ve got my ways. I’m really convincing, you know?” you smile at him, grabbing a small butter knife and a new pan, putting it on the stove. As you wait for it to heat, you cut up the butter into small cubes.

For a moment, it’s silent. 

“I-”

You look up at his interruption. Jungkook sighs. “I just wanna clarify- it sounded weird when I said that I’m a nice guy, which I mean, I am, but I don’t mean it in a-”

“It’s fine.” You put down the knife and pull out a wooden spoon. “I wouldn’t have known what to say either.” You stir the butter in the pan, watching it melt and sizzle. “Don’t worry about it. I know you’re nice and trustworthy.”

“Do you?” Jungkook laughs.

You turn to him, smiling. “Yeah, I do.”

“How are you so sure?”

Jungkook isn’t sure why he’s asking this. He shouldn’t. He should be glad that you think he’s nice and trustworthy. But he couldn’t help himself but ask.

You turn off the stove before answering. The smell of melted butter wafts through the air. “Should I not trust you?”

“W-what, no, I’m just-” Jungkook deflates. “Maybe Yerim has a point when she says you’re too trusting.”

You blink at him, think about his words before ultimately shrugging. “Maybe. Or maybe she doesn’t.” You tilt your head to the side. “But I can trust you, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, but a knock on the door interrupts him, and he has never felt more relieved. He isn’t sure how convincing he could have lied just there.

“Oh,” you say when you see who it is.

Jungkook recognises her from the pictures Namjoon showed him during one of the meetings. It’s your housekeeper, Kang Sunyoung. 

He noticed it before already, but she always has a smile on her lips, the kind of smile only people with their heart at the right place are able to produce, the kind of smile that warms everybody’s heart. Jungkook already knows she’s nice. He’s right.

“Sunyoung!” you beam. “You’re already back? I thought you were coming back tomorrow.”

“Surprise! I’m back early!” 

You pull her into a hug.

“How’ve you been? How’d you survive the two weeks without me?” Sunyoung smiles and you wave her off.

“Don’t worry, we managed just fine.”

“Yeah? Soon you’re not gonna need me then, are you?” 

“Don’t say that. We’re always gonna need you.” You roll your eyes, eliciting a chuckle from Sunyoung. You laugh with her. 

“Oh,” Sunyoung says upon seeing Jungkook. He puts on a smile.

“Hi, I’m Jungkook.” He stretches out his hand, and Sunyoung takes it.

“Oh, right.” You touch your forehead. “Totally forgot to introduce you to each other. This is Jungkook.” You pause to think. “A friend of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook. I’m Sunyoung, the housekeeper.” 

Jungkook doesn’t miss the look Sunyoung gives you, the silent exchange that happens right before his eyes. He wants to grin. 

“Well, I’m gonna go change, and leave you two alone again,” Sunyoung says, turning to him. “Nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

“Nice meeting you too.”

Sunyoung shares another look with you before she goes. It’s telling, and it’s extremely difficult for Jungkook to not pat himself on the shoulder. You have no idea.

“Please tell me that we can add some flour,” Jungkook says, holding his dough-covered hands into your face. You roll your eyes, but relent, sprinkling some on top of the dough. “More-”

“No, too much flour will make the buns dry and hard.”

“But the dough’s sticking all over my hands!”

“Just keep kneading, it will smooth out.”

Jungkook pouts. He doesn’t do as you say, trying to peel the dough off his hands instead. He eyes the bag of flour you’re holding in your hands, thinking that some flour would definitely solve the problem, but you’re protecting the bag of flour like your life depends on it. 

“Just knead. It will smooth-” 

“You said that five minutes ago.”

Jungkook expects you to repeat yourself, maybe sprinkle some more flour on top of the dough to get him to shut up. What he doesn’t expect you to do is to dump out the entire bag.

A huge cloud of flour puffs up. You two start coughing almost immediately. 

“Why would you-?”

“You asked for it!”

He stares at you, wide-eyed. “Did I?”

You both crack up, and Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s his face that makes you laugh or the ridiculousness of the situation because holy fuck, you really just poured a bag of flour on the dough. And even though you two are breathing in flour as you laugh, neither of you stop.

One moment you two are just laughing, the next you are grabbing handfuls of flour and hurling it at each other. It turns into a full on... flour war. 

You definitely should not be doing this—the mess you’re creating is going to be a pain in the ass to clean up later—but neither of you care. It’s too much fun to stop, the sound of your laughter too beautiful to interrupt.

You end up admitting defeat when Jungkook corners you, your lips split into a gigantic grin as you put up your hands.

You dust yourselves off, and Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s inept or stupid (or both) or if you’re just better at it because you bake in your freetime and therefore are more often covered in flour, but it simply won’t come off his clothes, no matter how many times he pats himself down.

You look up. He looks up too, face twisted in desperation and frustration. There’s a moment of silence. It doesn’t last long though, your laughter cutting through the air.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Jungkook tries but cracks up too.

“I-” You shake your head, unable to control yourself.

“You’re mean,” he tells you with a scrunch of his nose, and you keep on going, your laughter tumbling out of you like pearls of a broken necklace. 

Jungkook pouts, dramatically. You keep on laughing at him, and when he moves to walk away from you, you stop him, hand holding onto his shoulders and pulling him back.

“Wait, no, don’t go,” you say with a grin, not even trying to hide it. “I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I’m sorry.”

“Hard to believe when you’re still grinning like that,” Jungkook points out with a click of his tongue. He tries his best to keep up the act, but his mouth betray him.

“But you’re grinning too!”

“No, I’m not!”

He turns away from you, but you’re quick to grab his face and stop him. “Look, no, you are! See, you’re kinda smiling right now!”

And you’re right. Jungkook is kinda smiling right now, but it’s slowly fading away, breaking because holy shit, you’re close to him right now. His heart gives out in his chest. 

“Oh.” You’re staring at his cheek, fingers brushing off the flour. “Is that a scar?”

You skim over it, your touch featherlight. It sends goosebumps down Jungkook’s back. “How’d you get it?”

“When I was seven,” he swallows, the proximity stealing his breath, “I, uh, fell from the swing.”

He expects you to coo, pat him on the shoulder, tell him how much the fall must have hurt. He expects you to show him empathy. 

You don’t. 

No, you show him the opposite. You start laughing, right into his face, without a care, like it isn’t a rude thing to do.

Jungkook exclaims your name in the most dramatic fashion possible. “You can’t laugh at me!”

“I can’t? Then what am I doing it right now?” you hum, an unabashed grin on your lips.

He narrows his eyes at you. “That fall hurt. You can’t laugh at that. It’s my trauma.”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” 

“Dramatic?” He points at his cheek. “I got a scar- a scar from the fall! I’m not being-”

“Please, that scar doesn’t count as a scar. It’s miniature. Tiny. Invisible practically-”

“You saw it!” 

“Only because I looked really closely.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to argue with you, but closes it again. He has nothing to say because you’re right. Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to admit defeat, he turns away from you, the pout on his lip so dramatic it makes you roll your eyes.

“Jungkook.”

He pretends not to hear you. 

You stare at him, wait for him to give up the act, stop being petty. Nothing happens. Turns out though, it’s hard to keep up the act of being offended when you take his face into your hands, turn him to you, and press a kiss against his scar.

“Here, I kissed it. Acknowledged your scar. Fixed it for you.”

It’s not. 

You didn’t fix shit. The scar’s still there. If anything you just opened up his scar again, the skin around it throbbing all of a sudden. But the kiss did do wonders. It gave Jungkook confidence he didn’t have mere seconds ago.

You don’t seem to register what kind of effect that kiss had on him. In fact, you don’t seem to think that it was a big deal at all. You still have the same easy smile on your lips, are still holding his face in your hands.

Tension fills the room. Your grip loosens. You’re unsure, but when Jungkook puts his hands on your waist and slowly leans in, you cup his face again. He gives you time to pull away, or tell him you don’t want it. You don’t. 

Your eyes lock. It’s a silent exchange, a silent confirmation. It’s all he needs before Jungkook presses his lips against yours.

The kiss isn’t phenomenal. This is no TV show or romcom. There aren’t fireworks going off in the background, no butterflies soaring through the air, no time-freezes-to-a-stop when your lips meet. No, it’s a sweet and tender kiss, a kiss Jungkook won’t be forgetting for a while. 

There’s something stirring in his stomach, growing and disrupting. He ignores it.

You pull Jungkook closer to you, and he does the same. You smile into the kiss, and he does the same. You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, and he does the same, swiping his tongue on your bottom lip. And when you pull away, needing to breath, he does the same, reluctantly though.

It’s quiet between you, the kind of quiet when you have just done something brave, something you have wanted to do for a while now, something you have been waiting to do. You crack a smile.

“A friend of yours, that’s how you introduced me, right?” Jungkook recalls with a hum.

“Exactly.” You lean into him again, lips colliding with his once more. “Just friends.”

He snorts, kisses you a third time. “Just friends.”

You hum, pausing and looking into his eyes before kissing him again. This time it’s deeper, hands tighter, bodies closer, hearts quicker, grins bigger, kiss needier.

An hour later, the cinnamon buns finally go into the oven, and while the kitchen is back to its original form, the two of you—even though you dusted yourselves off—still have flour in your hair. You offer Jungkook to take the shower first, but he declines, telling you that the little bit of flour is fine. So you take it, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He pulls out his phone.

[seokjin - 14:01] : How are things going? Just say a word and we’re there if you need any help. We can get you out of there.

[namjoon - 14:31] : Are you okay?

[yoongi - 14:47] : dont frget to activate the bug

Jungkook freezes upon reading the last text. He has completely forgotten about the bug, about why he’s actually here, so wrapped up in spending time with you and baking and, well, making out with you, it slipped his mind.

He shakes his head at himself. He can’t believe he forgot! Pressing his hand to his forehead, Jungkook closes his eyes and focusses up. If he wasn’t remembering the schedule wrong, Sunyoung should be in the basement doing the laundry right now, and you, well, you’re still showering. Meaning, this is his chance.

With a deep breath, Jungkook walks out the kitchen, looking over his shoulder as he does. And as he goes down the hallway, he’s thankful that Jimin forced him to memorise the blueprint of your house. Else he’d get lost, for sure. 

Careful, he climbs up the steps, and when he finds the office door, next to one of the many bathrooms, he glances over his shoulder. Slowly, Jungkook presses down on the handle before slipping inside. The lock quietly clicks shut behind him.

Jungkook doesn’t breathe out when he’s inside. Truth is, he’s even more tense than before, vision blurry on the sides when he walks over to the office desk, not even seeing registering the big safe in the corner. 

He fumbles with the bug, hands so shaky he almost drops it. Hastily, he slaps it on the underside of the desk before activating it. The confirmation beep is quiet, but Jungkook cringes, the sound ringing painfully loud in his ears.

With bated breath, he gets up and inches the door open, peeking into the hallway. Seeing no one, he slips out and hurries down the steps, sighing when he reaches the bottom, having not bumped into anyone-

“Jungkook?”

His heart seizes in his chest.

Slowly, Jungkook turns around, a smile on his lips. You stand in front of him in a new shirt and pants and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Your hair’s sti.. wet from the shower. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he laughs. “I needed to use the bathroom.” 

The lie slips easily from his lips. The bathroom lie always works, Jimin taught him. Feign innocence and confusion. Jimin’s right. The bathroom lie really does always work.

“I probably should have given you a tour first, huh? Could you find it?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. Got a bit lost, but I- I found it.”

You nod before pointing behind you, to the kitchen. “Wanna see if our buns are done yet?”

His chest tightens for some reason. Jungkook doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t think he wants to. All he knows is that the corners of his mouth hurt a little when he smiles at you.

“Sure.”

Seokjin and Namjoon ambush Jungkook the moment he walks in. They drag him into the living room where Hoseok, Yoongi and Jimin are already waiting for him. 

“So?”

And then, Jungkook begins to recap the entire day for them. He tells them how Yerim was there because she didn’t trust him, how you laughed when he gave you the flowers, how you baked cinnamon rolls together, how your housekeeper came back, and how he planted the bug when the chance presented itself. 

Jungkook tells them everything. 

Everything except the kisses you shared.

Something in him tells him not to share that with the others, to leave that part out, to keep it a secret.

“Good job!” Namjoon pats him on the shoulder.

“You did good,” Seokjin says too, nodding approvingly. “Very good.”

And even though Jungkook’s been waiting to hear this all day, been waiting to come back, tell them what an amazing job he did and get praised, he doesn’t feel as happy as he thought he would; no smile automatically appearing on his lips. It’s weird. He doesn’t understand.

“Thank you,” Jungkook simply says at the end, and shrugs off Namjoon’s hand.

“Wow, so you really managed to not break my equipment this time, huh?” Yoongi hums, and before Jungkook can roll his eyes, Taehyung walks in, paintbrush in his hand. 

“I need new colours,” Taehyung says, looking positively dead, like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Paint is stuck to his shirt and hands. Before anyone can respond, he walks away, dragging his feet as he does.

“What’s with him?” Jungkook asks, and looks at the others, but they don’t answer. Namjoon gets up from his seat and follows Taehyung.

“It’s fine,” Jimin says before snapping his finger, remembering something. “I haven’t told you yet, have I?”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, and Jimin smirks, proud.

“I made it on the team.”

Jungkook blinks at Jimin. It takes him a moment to understand what he mans. He made it on the your mother’s team. 

“Oh.” 

The older grins. “Yeah, got the call today. I’m hired.”

“We were going to text you, but we wanted you to keep your focus on the mission,” Seokjin explains. “I’m grabbing something from the kitchen. You guys want anything?” 

Jimin and Jungkook decline, and Seokjin leaves them two alone.

“Hey, if you need any help now,” Jimin smiles, “I’m there to save your ass.”

Jungkook laughs. “Let’s hope I won’t need you.”

“Hope so too. But I’m there if you do. I got your back.”

“That’s great.”

And for some reason, that feels like a lie. For some reason, Jungkook doesn’t think it’s all that great. For some reason, Jungkook feels quite the opposite.

His phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out, and when he sees who it is, a smile appears on his lips.

[you - 20:21] : had fun today!! hope you got home safe

[you - 20:21] : lets do it again some time!

And you do. You do it again and again and again and again until it becomes a routine for Jungkook to hang out at your place. He spends every day with you. 

Yerim’s also there, at least for the next couple visits. And even though Jungkook fails to gain her trust, you manage to convince her to leave you two alone. Sunyoung’s always home when he’s there, but he barely ever sees her, she’s always off doing some chores. And even though Jungkook has spent hours at your place, he has yet to see your parents, both somehow always working. 

So it’s always just you two, spending every minute together.

Most of the time, you bake something. There’s the occasional handful of flour that gets hurled at the other, but it never turns into a full on flour war like the first time. Sometimes, Siyeon’s there too. It’s fun with her, Jungkook must admit. She has energy neither of you have anymore, but it rubs off, most days at least.

Today’s not one of those days, the two of you lounging on the couch as you watch her put on a dance performance for you, some pop song Jungkook doesn’t recognise playing from your phone.

“Hey,” you whisper, and Jungkook glances between you and Siyeon, not wanting to miss a single thing because even if her moves are uncoordinated and badly coordinated, he’s still amazed. 

“My parents-” you cut yourself short.

“Yeah?” Jungkook whispers, very interested now because anything concerning your parents is interesting, incredibly so. “What’s, uh, with your parents?”

You inch closer to him. “They wanna meet you.”

Oh.

It’s not what Jungkook expected you to say. He doesn’t know how to react. It shows. 

“I mean only if you’re down for it too. No pressure. They just heard a bunch about you from Sunyoung and me and are interested in you, but obviously, if you’re not comfortable, no one’s forcing you-”

“No, no, no-”

“Y/N! Kook! I’m dancing!” Siyeon says, stopping and putting her hands on her hips. 

“Right, sorry, go on,” you smile, and Jungkook waits the appropriate amount of time before talking again, voice much lower. 

“No, I-” He jumbles up his words and he can’t help but think that Jimin wouldn’t have. He sits up and looks at you. You turn to him too.

“Meeting your parents sounds lovely.”

You blink at him before smiling. “Meeting your parents sounds lovely,” you mock and snort, eliciting a gasp from Jungkook. He’s about to say something too, call you mean, when Siyeon lets out a huff.

“You guys aren’t watching!” 

Siyeon glares at Jungkook and you like you’ve committed the worst crime possible, hands crossed in front of her chest. He laughs. How could he not? 

“Ah, I’m sorry, Siyeon,” you say in between chuckles. “Start again. Kook and I are watching now.”

“Yes, we’re sorry, Siyeon,” Jungkook repeats, the grin on his lips making it hard to believe though. “Please start again.”

And as you go to play the song again and Siyeon walks back into position, he and you lock eyes. You grin at each other.

“Smile, always smile,” Jimin says and Jungkook isn’t sure if this is the hundredth time he has repeated it or the thousandth time. Either way, Jimin’s words only elicit one reaction from Jungkook: he rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, smile, I got it.”

“I’m serious! You have no idea how far a smile can go! People are more likely to believe you and like you-”

“When you smile and laugh a lot. Yes, I know,” Jungkook says and grabs his watch from his nightstand, strapping the silver jewelry around his wrist. “You’ve told me before.”

“Look, I’m just saying. Parents are usually a little bit more difficult, especially those artsy parents. They think they’re the real shit and look down on whoever they don’t deem worthy because of whatever reason. You screw up with her parents and you might screw it up with her. You don’t know what influence they have on her.” Jimin hands Jungkook his necklace. “I just don’t want everything to fail because she has shit parents. They probably are. Be prepared for the worst.”

“Assuring, Jimin,” Hoseok says, standing in the doorway, hands in his pocket. “Very assuring.”

“I’m just being realistic.”

Hoseok gives Jungkook a look. He doesn’t agree, clearly.

“Ready?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to answer Hoseok, but he isn’t sure. Part of him wants to say yes because Jimin is making him nervous, but part of him doesn’t because fuck, it’s just dawning on him that he’s meeting your fucking parents and if he screws this all up he’s so fucked- actually, no, fucked will not begin to even explain how fucked he will be-

“Hey, Kook?” Jimin places his hand on his shoulder, squeezing it. “You good?”

“Uh, y-yeah, I just-” Jungkook shakes his head and catches himself in the mirror, suddenly questioning his choice of choosing a dark blue knit sweater and black slacks. Maybe he should go for a button down again. Or maybe change out the watch or take out the earrings. But he does feel the most comfortable-

“Look, you’ll be fine,” Hoseok says and walks in, putting an arm around his shoulde, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “You look really good, and you’ve been doing a good job and you’re going to keep doing a good job. You’ve got nothing to worry about, Kook.”

Jungkook wants to ask Hoseok how he’s so sure, what he would do if he doesn’t do a good job again, but he bites his tongue. Jimin slaps Jungkook on the back. 

Downstairs everybody gathers around him again. Like last time, Namjoon hands him a bouquet of flowers.

“Ready?” Jimin asks, and when Jungkook goes to answer the question, there’s a lot less conviction swinging with his voice, the smile on his lips not quite reaching his eyes.

“Ready.”

You’re already standing in the doorway when Jungkook gets out of his car, like you’ve been staring out the window and waiting for him. The thought makes him smile.

He isn’t sure if it’s because you dressed up today or if it’s the soft sunlight hugging you, but god, you look breathtakingly gorgeous today. Well, you always do, but today just especially. His heart skips a beat.

“Hey, Kook!” you call out.

“Hey, Y/N!” he calls back, and you giggle. Jungkook thinks he’ll keep doing anything that will make you giggle. It’s his favourite sound, he realises. How could it not be?

“Brought flowers again?” you smile and point at the bouquet in his hands. He smiles.

“I did, but they’re not for you.” You let out a dramatic gasp. He laughs. “Sorry, but not today. Next time.”

You step aside and let him in. “So there will be a next time?”

“Isn’t there always?” Jungkook quips back with a grin as he follows you down the hallway.

“If you keep going like this,” you look over your shoulder and purse your lips, stopping, ”maybe not.”

Jungkook stops too, gapes at you. “But I didn’t do anything-”

“You sure?”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t need to. The silence and tension between you is enough, the looks you share containing everything you want to say, all of the quips that dance on your tongues.

You raise a brow. He does too. You inch closer. He does too. You’re daring him right now. The way your lips curl up and the way your eyes sparkle andthe way you tilt your head making it obvious. It’s a dare Jungkook wants to take and will take, but right before he can, before he can drop the bouquet to the floor and cup your face and press his lips against yours and melt into you and steal your breath, your father walks in from the living room.

“Oh.”

You two jump apart like you’ve been stung by bees, like someone has lit your feet on fire.

“Dad, oh, hi,” you laugh, wringing your hands together.

“What were you two doing?” your father asks, gesturing between you, face hard. 

You’re quick to answer, your voice higher than usual. “N-nothing. We weren’t doing anything. Just, uh, standing.”

“Very closely, don’t you think?”

You try to say anything, but no words leave your lips.

“Young man,” your father says and Jungkook jumps, eyes doubling in size. “Are you just gonna stand there or introduce yourself? Has no one taught you manners?”

“Uh, I- yes, of course. My, uh, name is Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” He clears his throat, hands tugging on his sweater. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Your father narrows his eyes. “Sir. It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

“Dad!” you hiss, but your father doesn’t even look at you, staring down Jungkook instead.

“R-right, excuse me, Sir,” he apologises and averts his gaze, feeling like a child being scolded. “I-It’s nice to meet you, Sir.”

He stretches out his hand, but your father just stares at it, face hard and stiff. Slowly, Jungkook drops his hand, giving you a panicked look, but you don’t seem to know what to do either, staring back at him.

Jungkook’s heart is pounding in his chest. He’s about to run, pack his bags and flee the fucking country when your mother appears, an apron tied around her waist.

She hisses your father’s name. “What are you doing? Stop it! You’re scaring them!”

And then your father cracks a smile.

The tension dissipates instantly.

“Sorry, I was just messing with you,” he explains, and Jungkook and you stare at him like he’s grown a second head, neither of you comprehending. The shift in his demanour confusing Jungkook even more.

“I’m so sorry, Jungkook. Excuse my husband please,” your mother says and steps forward, stretching out her hand. She tells him her name. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Jungkook takes her hand, offering her a smile, still somewhat confused though.

“Uh, h-hello, it’s very nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

Your mother looks mortified. For a second, Jungkook’s thinks she recognises his name and knows who he is and what he does and that he’s only here to-

“Oh, god, please don’t call me ‘ma’am’. It makes me feel ancient.”

“But-” Jungkook finishes his sentence by looking at your father, and your mother is quick to hit him.

“This is all your fault! Look what have you done? Proud?” 

Your father grins, shrugging. “I was just joking.”

“God, dad,” you sigh and bury your face in your hands, shaking your head. 

“I’m sorry,” your father says and pats Jungkook on the shoulder before pointing at the bouquet. “Are those lilies?”

Jungkook looks down. He almost forgot. Quickly, he offers them to your mother. “These are for-”

“Lilies! My favourite flowers!” Your mother cooes. “How’d you know?”

“Ah, just a lucky guess,” Jungkook laughs. It’s a lie. He knows because he’s researched you and your family, extensively. “I’m glad you like them.”

“No flowers for me? I see how it is.” Your father clutches his chest and feigns a sniff. “I’m just not important, huh?”

“What? No, I-I wasn’t-”

“Stop,” you place your hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “It’s fine. He’s just messing with you.”

Your father scoffs. “I’m not. This time I’m not joking.” He turns to Jungkook. “I’m telling you this now, Jungkook, I’m not appreciated in this household. I’m warning you-”

“Yes, you’re very underappreciated.” Your mother rolls her eyes. “That’s why I made your favourite food today-”

Your father looks at your mother. “You-”

“Yes, now come.” She tugs on his arm. “Let’s have dinner.”

“You guys go first,” you tell her when she turns to you. Jungkook looks at you. “We’ll be there in a minute.”

He doesn’t understand, and neither do your parents judging from the looks they share. But they go anyway, leaving you two alone.

“What-”

The moment they’re gone, you press your lips against his. Jungkook’s taken aback for a second, hands hanging in the air before they find their way around your waist. He pulls you close to him and smiles. It’s the last thing he expected you to do, but he more than welcomes it, loves it. Your one hand is fisting his sweater, pulling him down to you, and the other one is holding his cheek, thumb brushing over his scar. Jungkook feels his heart in his throat, your touch electrifying.

“What was that for?” he asks you breathless when you part, smiling when he sees the grin on your lips.

“Felt like it,” you tell him, shrugging. “They interrupted us before.”

Jungkook laughs.

You take his hand into yours. “Come, let’s go. They’re gonna be suspicious if we keep them waiting for too long.”

“Right, because staying back was not suspicious at all, was it?”

You roll your eyes. “Just come.”

By the end of the night, Jungkook concludes two things. 

One, you are, truly, your parents’ daughter; you look hauntingly similar to your mother and your mannerisms are almost completely identical to your father’s. 

Two, Jimin’s wrong, again. Because your parents aren’t judgemental or arrogant or superficial. They’re the opposite, humble, smart, kind, funny. They’re just like you.

“So, how was it?” you ask when you come to a stop next to his car. 

The wind’s tugging on your cardigan. You hug the garment closer to your body. The night’s dark today, pitch dark, but Jungkook sees you clearly, you shining brighter than the stars in the sky tonight. The moonlight casts a soft white glow, enveloping you.

You look breathtakingly beautiful.

“Was meeting my parents as lovely as you thought it’d be?”

Jungkook smiles. “It was.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m happy to hear that.”

“Are you?” he laughs, and you hum.

“Of course.” The moonlight brings out your eyes. “My parents like you too, by the way.”

He tilts his head. “Do they? Did they tell you that?”

You smile at him. “No, but I know.”

He raises a brow. “How do you-”

“I just do,” you tell him with a scrunch of your nose.

Jungkook laughs. “Well, that’s great, right?”

“Very,” you say and take a step closer to him. “Don’t know what I would do if they didn’t.”

“It's that important to you that they like me, huh?”

“Well,” you hum, “yeah.”

You take a step closer to him, the pebbles crunching under your shoes. You pick a piece of lint off his sweater, discarding it. 

“You see, my grandparents didn’t like any of my mom’s boyfriends,” you tell him quietly, tilting your head. “Except for my dad. He was the exception.” You place your hands on his chest. “Look at them now.”

Jungkook laughs. “You think we’re gonna turn out like your parents then?”

He expects you to tell him no, to tell him that obviously, it takes more than that for you to end up like your parents. You don’t. You just stare at him, a smile on your lips. Slowly, Jungkook’s heart begins to break. 

“Maybe,” you whisper into the air.

And before the guilt can eat him up, plant itself deep within his chest, bury itself in between his ribs and tear him apart from inside, you press your lips against his. Jungkook reciprocates because kissing you is all he has wanted to do all night. But he can feel his heart tighten, feel it crack in his chest.

Because he has done it. 

Jungkook has deceived you, completely gained your trust. He has done what he has been tasked with, has fully infiltrated you and your family. He should be proud of himself, should be over the moon right now, jumping up and down, itching to rush to the others and tell them. 

He should be happy. 

He is not.

Instead, Jungkook is sorry, truly sorry.

→  links don’t work, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts/feedback! i’d love to hear it!

[yostresswritinggirl]

@butterfly-mochi​ Rewrote this freaking thing thrice because it keeps getting deleted wth tumblr agjvahkfajkvk- I enjoyed writing it a lot tho and since I’m too weak to the characters I ended up writing for all of them (except for Sucrose, im sorry bb huhu, I ran out of brain power). This is my first time writing for so many of them in one go so please excuse me for any mistakes or blandness ywy thank you for letting me write for my baby Ganyu too hhhhh

Universe Reversal 2

Genshin Impact Character Reader and Modern Players with Zhongli, Childe & Ganyu (how they simp for you) (event masterlist / Part 1 / Part 3)

Zhongli the F2P

The most relatable out of the bunch because this man is still broke and can only rely on the primogems he can farm. And he had a LOT. The one thing he doesn’t have a lot on, however, is his luck.

So how did he manage to pull you?: Well after exhausting all his primogem on your banner with nothing but weapons and other characters, he has lost his resolve. But by some weird luck, there was a character bug that was fixed and in his email was the almighty consolation primogem. Enough for ONE pull. And by the Gods he FINALLY got you.

He’d nonchalantly post his screenshot of pulling you using a single acquaint fate in his friend group without any words and everyone else just loses their shit. “You got them in one pull?!” “Yeah” A riot.

This was partnered with the fact that not only is Zhongli an F2P player, but also barely has any five star characters.

He looks calm and apathetic over the news, but behind the screen he’s exhausted and relieved, silently livid.

He has no primogems left to squeeze for a constellation so you’re instead pampered with the best weapon suitable for you (because that’s all he keeps getting).

Zhongles spends most of his time farming for materials to quickly level you up, unlocking all your stories and voiceline, but he fucked up on your build (his artifacts are messy).

He follows communities, forums and videos regarding your character to know all the things he needs to perfect your build. You can barely make a dent against normal mobs, so he knew he was doing something VERY wrong.

Is the type of person to keep refreshing the page for new content, very updated.

Ask him a question about your character and he’s gonna bring you the word vomit that is his research. He’s not gonna stop- probably accidentally developed a copypasta for you.

Also follows your VA in both Tiktok and Twitter to indulge in every bit of content. He also has that screenshot of his pull saved and locked.

On his birthday, a friend of his gifted him a chibi plushie of you and he has treasured it ever since, treating and handling it like its a figurine.

“It is merely pure luck and grace from the gacha gods that I got this character, and I will make sure that they know I am very grateful for this fortune.”

Favorite Voiceline: Birthday Message

Childe The Whaler

This lucky wealthy bastard with no remorse for his money whales for EVERY character. He’s making a collection, which is to get all the characters, especially the five stars. So when your banner finally popped up, he’s gonna square up and trigger a whole ass meteor shower.

How he pulled you: Money. His luck with this games are actually not the best so he always compensates with money, he got you halfway through the first failed pity, almost giving him a heart attack that he might actually break the bank just to get you.

And then he pulls more to raise your constellation lol.

The first thing he does is look over your character info and read through it all; constellation infos, your base stats, artifact compatibility.

At the end when he’s maximized everything, he would then focus on playing around with your character *coughs climbing noises coughs*

He thought you’d just be another part of his collection but playing with your character was very enjoyable and in-line with his playstyle- oops 100 screenshots with the Kamera-

Any and all merchandise that he fancies would be his, and he’s definitely flexing it to the other sweetie nerds who call themselves simps. He’s fighting for the simping title, and he’s currently neck and neck with this fanartist in Pixiv.

Speaking of that fanartist, he definitely commissioned an expensive and detailed portrait of you, full rights and everything. No one else was allowed to use it but him.

Was also the first one with the audacity to call out your VA to create an account on Tiktok to create more content with your voice. He was successful.

His obssession also comes in the form of self-indulgent contents, and had been keeping track of the ship wars happening. During conventions, he cosplays as the character shipped with you the most (or the character he thinks should end up with you).

Silently scrutinizing those who cosplay you, only ever taking pictures with/of the best looking one, sorry haha

Definitely flaunts that you are his waifu/husbando and will fight for best girl/best boy during debates or polls. Has mobilized the community to vote for you once. He’s very persuasive.

“Hm? Why I’m just the best collector in the game, and I am more than happy to let everyone know that I am their number one fan haha, everyone who claims otherwise is definitely wrong!”

Favorite Voiceline: More About (Y/N) I-IV, (Y/N)’s Hobbies...

Ganyu the Employed

Ganyu, our dearest overworker, is one of the players in the older stage who actually has a job but still plays Genshin for their past times. The gorgeous sceneries and the music is her main focus in playing the game, not much of a try-hard but still decent in the combat mechanics.

How she pulled you: You came home within 50 pulls! And you appeared again after another 10 pull! Ganyu was so SHOOKT and so distressed because oh goodness, what does she do? She doesn’t know anything much about you!

Will rewatch your three trailers to try and understand your skills better, ended up saving the soundtracks from them because that was such a nice trailer music! Tnbee gains a new follower!

Ganyu will take a while before she can properly play or build you up because she’s so busy with work, she only ever plays when she feels fully done with her work.

During her break she plays with your character while multi-tasking on eating, earphones plugged in and sight on the phone as she farms materials and artifacts for you.

The moment she gets more help from her player friends tho, holy shit, you just ended up being so OP. She had so many good artifacts and weapons for you because she didn’t know what they were for before.

She loves how you’re so easy to use and can easily solo the enemies and even the boss fights. A huge breather, because now Ganyu can cheese the battles that takes a while, to give her more time to focus on the storyline and lores.

Since Ganyu plays for the story and aesthetic, she’ll find you almost always in her team. Still very proud of her pull, she makes the best screenshots of your fights or in the best angle through exploration.

Treasures you so much she starts talking to her phone- “Ah, no, please don’t fall.” “There’s violetgrass up there, let’s try and get it”

Blushes everytime you produce a sound when climbing, doesn’t change you anyways tho

Hums to your trailer music while working, and if permitted, would have the song on repeat while she buries herself in work. She finds it really refreshing and the time she spends in work miraculously flies by fast when she gets lost in the sound.

At one point, when she was given a day-off or if the convention was on her free time, she attends to look for cosplayers of you and take a picture. No one rejects her because she’s so adorable and cute when asking shyly.

Had brought a decent amount of merchandise, preferably the functional/practical ones like a phone cover, mug or keychain. Also has an earphones clamp with your little chibi self as the holder.

When asked, she would shyly announce that she likes your character the most.

“Their character theme and music really soothes me during work, it feels nice to have them, and I have not once regretted ever pulling for them. They are the best.”

Favorite Voicelines: Good Night/Afternoon..., About Us, Something To Share..., Interesting Things...

so enjoyable...

@moaa @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[introspectivememories]

oh my god, i love this soooo much. here are some thoughts

the whole “planning the next cryptic way to communicate with tim” is so funny cause in my notes, one of thing i wrote down was “bear leaves a message/gift in tim’s room at the manor” and it was definitely a hoodie sprayed with his cologne with a message that says, “for your insomnia. think of me.” 

uhh mori and bear definitely have a weird thing going on. they’re not in love with each other but like .... it’s definitely something. they both joined the mob at the same time and worked their way up. so it’s def a lot “i’ve seen you at your absolute worst and i will continue to stick by you.”

i don’t know how much of gotham he includes in the scope of His people. he loves the city as much anyone who grows up there can but he doesn’t love it like bruce does.

his mob people are Very much included in His people. he is very much an older brother figure to a lot of the new recruits

that being said there was going to be a scene in the medic!bear au wip i posted where tim gets mad at bernard for including luka in the killing.

“you got luka involved? how could you?” / “he’s just a kid! you said you wouldn’t involve him until he gets older!”

luka very much volunteered himself and bear definitely would’ve shut that shit down but he was too consumed by his anger to really think about it

one big thing that was part of the au was that every time tim runs into bernard, bernard always asks him if he’s happy. tim never has proper answer

one big scene is where they’ve fallen into this kinda “oh my god you’re so hot, i can’t fuckin keep my hands off you. also we have a lot to discuss but don’t stop doing that thing with your mouth” relationship and bernard has tim pinned against a wall, thigh in between his legs, sucking hickies onto tim’s neck. and tim is moaning under him, panting out bernard’s name when the bats land on the roof

“step away from red robin” / bernard freezes and slowly, almost mechanically, straightens up. never taking his eyes tim. / “looks like our time’s up, baby” / he whispers and presses a kiss to tim’s forehead. reaching out he lightly taps one of the marks he’s made, tim shivers. / “think of me.”

spinning around, bernard raises his hands up, gun held loosely in one. / “hey guys! how’s the night going?” bernard asks cheerily / “better before you came along.” bruce says

bernard pouts, “you wound me, father-in-law!” / behind him, tim splutters. / “hopefully, you’ll give me more chances to prove myself!”

oh there’s a scene that takes place right after tim finds out who bear really is and he confronts him on a rooftop. and tim’s like “bear how could you do this? what do you think Dar-” and bernard cuts him off. for once bear looks angry.

“don’t fucking talk about darla.” / “she was my friend too.” / “then where were you?” / “you weren’t at the funeral. you weren’t at the hospital when they declared her dead. you weren’t fucking there!” / “so don’t preach to me about the choices i made, when you weren’t fucking there!”

my personal favorite ending would be tim and bear get married and it ends up into a “way of the househusband” relationship. 

the whole mob goes to the wedding. and bear retires and gives the head position to mori? luka who’s grown up? idk

anyway tim just keeps superheroing and comes home to his househusband who has dinner ready

anyway bear doesn’t cut ties with the mob. he’s like an advisor?

bruce has come around, kinda

and oh my god, the part where you said "tim doesn't want anyone to taint themselves for him" and like you get it! but like bernard chooses it. like he'll break himself over and over for tim and like his friends fucking hate it. there was gonna be more to that wip i posted where nikhil comforts tim and tim is like "it ruins him when he kills someone. i never wanted to be the cause." and nikhil just pats him on that back and is like "you can't decide what people will give up for you. bernard for as long as I've known him has orbited you. he will keep choosing you no matter what." but i got tired so none of that ever got written.

uhhh, for bernard's day job, i really like him as a doctor-in-training. tim comes by one day, cause WE made donations and there's this cute doctor who keeps flirting with him and keeps taking care of him. and oh jeez, why does he keep thinking of that mobster from last week?

Okay, but like your no boss!Bernard au has got me in a chokehold and if I had braincells right now, I'd totally be tattling shit off. I just needed you to know that I See you and I Appreciate everything you bring to the table because like fuck is it so good and I can't wait for more

i love boss!bernard bc bernard can and should do a little crime. as a treat.

but also like what if this really nice dude was a little fucked up? what if he's super loving but he also comes home covered in blood? what if he hates killing but he'll do it anyway? for you?

for me, there's like two routes i like to take with boss!bernard.

is he's the head but he's not really into the whole killing thing. he just wants to live life. go to nice cafes. fall in love. and occasionally he comes back, but mostly he stays out of it.

is just full mobster. got the gun and the suits. the dramatic chair turns. the tragic backstory that leads to a life of crime. the falling in love with someone on the opposing side. also affectionately referred by me as my wattpad!timber au.

[harveywritings92]

Bnha Mafia AU Scenario: You need a new bra

[Summary: Busty reader! the last of your bra hooks break while lifting boxes at work! Leaving you in a bit of pickle, so, you text your friend telling her to go your house get you another bra... At least you though you thought it was your friend...]

"Goddamn lazy sons..." You huffed bending down getting another box of the floor, Naoki your male co-worker was supposed to be doing this but he decided texting on his phone and flirting with Mei from accounting was productive then doing his job! you huffed lifting a box full of text-book up when you felt your bra loosen..*Crap, one of the hooks must've snapped...oh, well I still got two more." then you felt your bra start to slip off did you realize your mistake...

This was the bra from last week! the one that had a broken hook after playing with your cat, you felt the second one snap this when you were putting on your jacket this morning...  Your face was on fire as you awkwardly looked around making sure you were the only person in the storeroom before unbuttoning your blouse and and taking off your broken bra to examine it to see if may the hook didn't break, maybe it just bent and you could fix it! Nope, it was definitely broken... How embarrassing you huffed grabbing your phone and texting your friend telling her it was an emergency!

{My bra broke, I need you get me another at my house! and please hurry my supervisors gonna be here any minute! I'm in Storeroom 13} 

[seen a 12:45 ✔✔]

Twenty minutes later...

"Y/n I got your text open the door"

You blinked bemused that didn't sound like your friend it sounded like... 

____________________________________________________________________________________

Shigaraki Position: the big boss: You open the door to see Tomura standing outside in the hall, You stared at the mob boss incredulously, before registering what he said *he saw my text...*, You looked down at you phone and saw his name on top of the screen...Your face felt like it was on fire as Shigaraki cleared his throat, you looked at him and saw he was blushing as he held out a bag from a very every expensive lingerie brand which looked at bemused did he buy her a new bra... "Y-you Didn't have get m-" He cut you off "Just take it!" You blinked and took the bag from the white haired mob boss, who waited outside thinking about the embarrassing situation at the lingerie store... 

He got that text and went to ask Kurogiri to bring the car around as he was going to attend to your wishes, until Dabi got a look at his phone and snorted. "Well, no shit it broke, she's not even wearing the right size!" the hit man noticed his boss eying him suspiciously. "And how exactly would you know that?" the scarred man just smirked knowing Shigaraki doesn't have a lot experiences with women.

"Boss I'm hit-man, it's my job to analyze people right down to what brand of socks they wear, You think I wouldn't notice a chick with {y/cup} size boobs in a {not y/cup} bra? it pretty obvious, especially when she does that little squirmy shrug thing with her shoulders."  

Shigaraki seemed to take this to heart as he didn’t like the thought of you being uncomfortable, So he had Kurogiri to take him to a lingerie store instead of your home, needles to say the staff were all on edge when the notorious head of the Shigaraki group came waltzing into their shop, looking around nervously at the various styles and varieties of underwear and sexy sleepwear.

One of the sales ladies finally mustered up the balls to approached and asked if he needed help. Shigaraki explained the situation and the lady put on a tight smile and helped him with obvious reluctance, before setting on a sky blue bra, but then Shigaraki paused when he saw a couple of other sleep sets he figured you'd like and one that he liked that was made to look like a game controller bought those too. 

He heard the door open and saw you walk out, Tomura cheeks were pink when he noticed that your chest looked like it had gotten perkier, that extra padding really was worth it, he'll have to have Kurogiri send those ladies at the Lingerie store a card or something... "D-does it fit alright?" He stammered scratching his neck while looking a you nervous about your reaction. "Yeah, actually it fits nice..." You said surprised that you're boyfriend got your size right. 

"That good! that's nice!...um I have to go I see you after work" he said kissing you on the cheek and walking out the back door, just as your worried boss rounded the corner asking why the head of Shigaraki was here? and where had he gone, yeah forgot to mention your company in under the Shigaraki's protection, but that was long before you and Tomura were a thing.

Needless to say when you got home that evening you were very surprised to find at least four more bags of Lingerie waiting for you on your coffee table, your face felt like a furnace as you read a note from Tomura detailing his high hopes that you'll be wearing at least one of them, and what he plans to do with you when he comes over to play later!~ 

===========================================

Dabi Position Hitman/Enforcer: There stood Dabi dried blood on his jacket (at least you think it was dry, the jacket too black to tell.) with a pervy grin on his face as he held up a bag from a lingerie store... your eye twitched and went close the door in his face when he wedged his foot in the door to stop you. "Easy there Fairy~ I'm just answering your distress signal!" he said teasingly causing you look at him oddly.

"What are you on about?" He put his hand in mock hurt. "Oh that text wasn't for little ol'me?" Again you looked him like he'd grown six heads, before looking down at your phone and saw that, yes. You had texted Dabi instead of Abbi, oops... "Actually that text was meant for Abbi. " the hit-man took then shrugged. "Well then I guess I'll be goin.." You grabbed his arm. "h-Hold up!, hold up lets not be hasty now!" he looked back at you with a smirk as he handed you the bag.

Dabi waited outside the door when he heard you muffled "What the fuck?" then you angerly yelling at him. "Get in here right now!" the hitman resisted the urge to burst of laughing at your face, as you held up a cupless bra for him to see. "If you seriously think I’m gonna wear this I'm cutting your dick of right now!" you hissed as Dabi feigned innocence. "What. what wrong with it?" He eyes watched you reach for a shelf where they store the extra blades for the Paper-guillotine, and he put his hands up.

"Okay, okay I’m just kiddin' with ya!" he took the bag from you and pulled out a dark purple bra with teal polka dots the inside of the cup was also teal, you hummed before putting it on and were pleasantly surprised that it fit you! "That feel better than that [not y/cup] size rag you've been wearing?"  You gawked at him bemused "Wait...I was wearing the wrong size? How did you notice?" Dabi said you squirming your shoulders and walking around like the hunch back of Notre-Dame was a dead giveaway.

You hummed putting your shirt back and Dabi with this little smirk on his face seeing the improvement that bra. "Looks like Patty and Selma are safe and snug in their new home.~" he purred watching them puff up when you crossed your arms. "I still don't get why you named them after the aunts from The Simpsons." You say as you watch him check his phone. "Because!" He kissed you on the cheek before going to the window. "...They're always smokin~" he winked before hopping out the window and running into the foggy afternoon, just as you boss cam in asking if you were done with inventory? And where the hell was your male co-worker?! that night Dabi was pleasantly surprised to find you trying on the cupless bra; checking yourself out in the mirror let's just say the Hitman was definitely buying you more underwear if he gets to come home that every night!~

============================================

Hawks position smuggler/police informant: You were confused seeing your boyfriend standing in the hall "Hey Dove." he greeted smiling coyly and holding a sparkly bag from a Lingerie store, you looked at him oddly. "Uh...Hi?" you looked to see if your friend was hiding behind him, nope just his wings... "Why are you here?" you asked. "I got your text, see?" he took his phone and showed you his phone, your face felt warm as you saw your text staring you in the face.

You must've mistaken Keigo for Kaiko "Oh... That wasn't for you. " You hummed embarrassed Keigo didn't seemed to mind as he held out the bag to you causing you heat up realizing he bought you underwear... Which you were reluctant to take. Now it's not that you didn't trust Keigo it's just his track record buying you clothes isn't very good... but then you looked at your options and sighed taking the bag from the blond; not seeing the sneaky smirk Keigo was trying to hide.

 before he heard you go "what the hell?" he snorted and walked in the storeroom to see you holding up this, ugly neon yellow mesh bra littered with green sequins in the shape of peacock feathers that covered your nips, You looked at the bra then him at almost scared. "Dude..." You murmured in disbelief that he actually expected you to wear this! he burst out laughing you pouted and started hitting him. "Ow...ow, haha! Okay!...heh, Okay!" He snorted as he checked the bag he gave you and under all the cray paper he pulled out this red bra with little gold stars on it, it looked cute but you were skeptical as you put it on. 

"Holy crap, it fits...."You looked at him suspiciously as you were putting your shirt back on. "Who helped you?" You asked watching at he stiffened up "I don't know what you talking about..." he smiled coyly as you crossed your arms and cocked a brow, before watching Keigo's smile drop, your brows furrowed as you watched one of Keigo's feather's shot out through a gap in the door and you heard a yelp!

You both went outside in the hall to find your co-worker Naoki pinned to the wall by Keigo's feather his cell phone laying at his feet, the blond's eyes narrowed as he picked it up and looked through it, Keigo growled when he found photos of you changing on it. He looked at Naoki in disgust before crushing the phone much to your co-worker protest and hawks pocketed the memory card, then turned to Naoki. "I'd keep my mouth shut about this if I were you bub.”

Keigo hissed as brought another razor sharp feather up to nervous man's face and pressed it against his cheek. "Or else you'll learn the meaning of “”Snitches get stiches””... Ya get me?" Naoki nodded and Keigo put him down and watched him run, The blond then turned to you with a cheeky smile. "Wanna go the lunch?" You agreed and hastily left with your birdbrained boyfriend.  

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

Lunar Violence (jjk)

Summary: You’re not a big fan of your best friend’s favorite band, Lunar Violence. Their werewolf gimmick makes you roll your eyes, even if the music isn’t too bad. When she drags you to a concert just as the blood moon rises, though, everything changes.

Warnings: werewolf sex, possessive behavior, choking, knotting, marking, heats and ruts so whatever consent issues you feel are within that realm, unrpotected sex, werewolf dick, abo dynamics

Word Count:7445

Rating: Explicit

You're not normally a fan of gimmicks, particularly with your music. So when your best friend begs you for a solid week to go with her to this concert, you're wary when you do a simple Google search.

Lunar Violence might be the dumbest fucking name for a band you've ever heard, but they certainly seem like they're going for a certain vibe. You'd definitely have been into it when you were a teen, the fake fangs, the facial piercings and torn leather pants, the howling they do at the ends of some of their songs.

The music itself isn't bad, the lead singer is stupid hot and has a smooth low tenor and bedroom eyes. 

You flip through only a few of the member pictures before making a decision based on the fact that they're good eye candy, at least.

Your friend Jia jumps up and down excitedly when you tell her and shows you the signs she's made. She's got a thing for the one they call Happy, a lean bassist who has a bright smile and a sexy glare.

"What are with these names? The seven dwarfs? I think they're mixing metaphors."

Jia snorts. "They call the drummer Baby because he's the youngest. It’s not that dumb and the music is really good, you’ll love it, I promise!"

"This is so dumb. You owe me."

"If I get close enough to Happy to make eye contact I'm gonna make him mine and then I'll give you anything you want." Jia says determinedly.

It’s a few weeks before the concert, so you find yourself listening to a few albums and actually getting pretty excited about it. It should be a fun time, get you away from the stress of your every day life, at the least.

You had no way of knowing that the night of the concert would complicate your life tenfold.

“Do we always have to schedule concerts around rutting season?” Namjoon whines after hitting yet another wrong chord on his guitar.

“It’s the best part about this job!” Hoseok grins.

“I can’t fucking concentrate being horny all the time, I agree with Joon,” Yoongi agrees, banging his forehead down on the keyboard.

“Should have called you Horny rather than Lucky,” Seokjin snorts, and Hoseok laughs so hard he nearly knocks over his bass guitar.

Jungkook watches them with a fond smile on his face, his brothers. Not by blood, of course but being the only werewolves in the city made them have an instant connection and camaraderie, and they’d created a pack pretty quickly. The music had come later, they’d all been interested in it, all had some talent and all been blessed with good looks, and after that it was only a matter of who did what and stage names.

Kim Seokjin, with his regal looks and sharp jaw: Prince.

Min Yoongi, with the scar over his left eye he’d gotten scrapping with a grey wolf in the woods behind his house in Daegu as a pup: Lucky.

Jung Hoseok with his easy smile and eager nature: Happy.

Kim Namjoon, always so serious and intelligent: Beethoven. 

Park Jimin, with his pretty face and sneaky smirk: Sly.

Kim Taehyung with his sweet nature and affectionate personality: Honey.

Finally, Jeon Jungkook, because he'd been barely old enough to breed when they'd met: Baby.

"Baby hasn't had his first rut yet, yeah?" It's Jimin, smirking, always giving Jungkook grief about something. 

Jungkook narrows his eyes and chucks a drumstick at him but it's no use, Jimin catching it in one band and twirling it like a goddamn baton. Jungkook would say Jimin was graceful if he hadn't seen him fall off about a dozen barstools and half a dozen stages, sober even for the latter.

“Kinda late, isn’t it?” Seokjin speaks up, and Jungkook knows he’s teasing but it stings a little, nonetheless. 

“He’s only just turned 23. You were two weeks from your 23rd before you ever popped a knot, hyung, or have you forgotten?” Namjoon snarks, and Jungkook snickers as Seokjin makes a face, that vein on his neck pulsing just a bit.

He shouldn’t laugh, they’re just as likely to come to blows during the beginning of a rut and in a full moon cycle, but he can’t help himself

Yoongi, as usual, manages to keep the peace by offering to order pizza and foot the bill, a truly saintlike act since they could go through a pizza each, as hot as their temperature would be running by now.

Jungkook doesn’t say that he’s had a knot for two years now, the very thought of his hyungs knowing that makes him blush so much he hides it by wiping his face with a towel, pretending to have been sweating. 

Truly, he should have had a rut by now, triggered by all the pheromones' from the shows they’d been doing, this tour had been particularly rough due to the upcoming blood moon, at least for all the other boys, and it isn’t as if Jungkook hasn’t mated, of course, but a full rut? Not even the hint of it. It worries him, but Namjoon keeps assuring him that everyone gets there in time, people are just different.

Taehyung had been a late bloomer himself, not starting his first rut until he met and fell in love with his girlfriend, a short feisty redhead he’d met after a hand injury from stringing his bass guitar and slicing his palm open. She’d been a nurse who scolded him for not coming in sooner and it’d been almost instant, her green eyes triggering every wolf thing about him, or at least that’s how he tells it, all wide eyed and dreamy.

She’s a near constant in Taehyung’s hotel rooms now, sometimes riding along on the tour bus, but he doesn’t let her into anymore of the concerts even when she pouts, because human mates around a group of wolves around rutting season can be a dangerous time.

Taehyung is one of the gentlest wolves Jungkook knows, but he’d seen him snarl when Yoongi so much as winked at the redhead near a rut, so it’s probably for the best.

Anyway, Jungkook wasn’t worried (much). He’d find his true mate eventually, but probably not at a concert. Maybe he’d start his rut there, at least, around the full moon. He’d never have imagined that he’d find both.

The crowd is nice enough, although they seem a little feral. Some of these girls have signs that should be x rated, but you're not one to judge, especially since you've never actually….done anything too x-rated. 

You feel a little strange when you enter the concert venue and you can’t quite put your finger on it. You shrug and blame it on the strong drink your friend had made you chug before you entered since she couldn’t finish it all herself.

It’s like there’s something living under your skin, some rush like heat, and it  makes you feel antsy, ready to dance along to the music or at least laugh at your friend losing her mind next to you.

There’s a lot of gimmick to the concert and it’s bright and dark at the same time near the stage. You’d swear you’d seen the guitarist strum with no pick, with a sharp claw instead, but you’re sure it’s makeup, part of the show. They’re wearing contacts, too, you’re pretty sure, and the music is good, your friend isn’t wrong.

The song you’d heard that you’d like is actually their encore song, heavy on the bass and drums, and the lead singer even makes your skin feel hot a little when he makes eye contact and winks at you. The last solo the lights come down on the drummer, he’s on the back stage so all you can see is his long hair bouncing, the flex of his admittedly impressive biceps as he finishes the song.

You’ve been jumping up and down and singing along so much that you’re sweating and feeling a bit dizzy, so you drag your friend out the back alley while she’s still swooning, having gotten a direct smile from her favorite bassist.

“Did you see him? He looked right at me! We’re in love, Y/n. Do you want to be my maid of honor?” She’s babbling when you hear the click of a lighter next to you.

There’s people milling about, it wasn’t exactly a sold out show but there was a decent crowd, and people are now piling into the bar next door.

“Did you like the show?” 

When you turn your head you’re shocked to see that it’s the lead singer, a couple strands of his silver hair falling over his eye as he smiles at you.

“Oh. Oh, yes, I liked it very...very much,” you stammer. He’s even more handsome up close. Those are some really good contacts, you can’t tell they aren’t real at all, even though surely no one’s eyes are a violet color like that.

“Sly!” Your friend screams, and you jolt forward, surprised.

The singer’s hand lights on your shoulder and you look down. You have time to think that they must make great money for these expensive special effects because they sure do look like claws before your friend rushes past you, yelling because Happy had come out the back with the rest of the band.

There’s no mob or anything, maybe a dozen people other than you and Jia, but it makes you a bit anxious nonetheless, especially since you’re still feeling just as antsy, hot and dizzy as you were before.

It might be worse, actually, as you stand outside in the moonlight.

“Sly’s just my stage name.” His voice sounds softer, closer to your ear as he leans in. “You can call me Jimin.”

“O-okay,” you stutter, unused to feeling this way. You’re usually more outgoing, talkative, but it feels so strange. You find yourself looking up at the sky as if looking for the moon.

It’s better, once you’re inside the bar, there’s not as much of a crowd and you’re sitting at a big table with Sly...Jimin, you remind yourself, and Jia and Happy, who seems to fit his name well, laughing open and loud with your best friend as if they’ve known each other forever.

After a few hours and a couple of drinks you’ve lost most of that antsy feeling since being indoors, and you and Jimin vibe well, becoming fast friends. You’re both flirty and talkative after getting to know each other, and your mood is lifted from the concert, the alcohol, and the socialization.

You even laugh about calling their gimmick dumb as they dodge questions about where they get their makeup and accessories. You assume it’s some kind of sponsorship situation or contract, not thinking much of it.

You manage to excuse yourself long enough to look for the bathroom, although Jia abandons you since she’s made her way into Happy’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and with a blissful smile you’re not sure you’ve ever seen on her.

There’s someone standing in the hall and it’s a narrow hallway and he’s pretty wide from the back so you stumble a little when you turn, placing a hand on the wall.

“Oh, excuse me!” You say, brightly, but when he turns you gasp, a little surprised by the bright red of his eyes before you realize it’s another member of Lunar Violence.

“Hello,” he says, quietly with a little smile and he has these prominent front teeth that are pretty cute, make him look a lot less intimidating, despite those contacts and an eyebrow piercing and his size.

“Oh, hello! You’re…”

“Baby,” he blurts, and it makes you giggle.

You feel a little tipsier than you’d realized, and you guess it must be since you’ve been sitting down for an hour or so and just gotten up.

He puts a hand over his face, embarrassed. “My name is Jungkook,” he explains. “I’m the drummer?”

It’s cute how his voice pitches up into a question, as if you wouldn’t recognize him. He’s definitely a bit more modest than the other two members you’d met, with Jimin and Happy (who you’d just learned also goes by Hoseoki), bragging about tours and performances. 

“Pretty big for a baby,” you tease, and he makes an embarrassed sound in the back of his throat.

“I keep trying to get them to let me change it,” he mutters.

You introduce yourself and he smiles again, and his eyes aren’t as red as you’d thought at first, anyway, maybe it’s just the light. You brush past him as you continue to the bathroom after excusing yourself, and it’s a little zing through you, like static electricity.

It takes you longer in the bathroom than it usually would, that last drink really must have packed a punch, and when you return to the table Jungkook is sitting there, too, next to your empty chair. Jimin looks a little sullen and pouty, but he smiles at you, those violet eyes crinkling up at the corners, and you give him a bright smile back.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is all energy, jiggling his leg and tapping his fingers on the table and Hoseok seems to be watching him intently.

The atmosphere in general seems to have changed, and after exchanging numbers with everyone with the urging of Jia, you two excuse yourself.

The three men walk you outside and Jimin is close while Jungkook hangs back. You imagine Jimin is so close since you mentioned feeling a bit dizzy and he asks you twice if he can call you a car but you tell him that the fresh air will do you good.

It’s funny, the moonlight seems to energize you a bit. When Jimin leans in to kiss you on the cheek, you jump a little at a sound behind you, something like a bark.

Jimin jolts back a little, eyes widening, and you both laugh at your nerves.

“Stray dog,” you remark, and Jimin snorts.

“Something like that.”

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “So what exactly the fuck happened after I left?”

Jimin is sullen on the couch, arms crossed over his chest with a busted lip and Jungkook is sitting next to Hoseok on the floor on the other side of the hotel room with tissue up his nose, Hoseok tilting his head back.

“Baby is about to go into rut,” Taehyung sings, laughing, his girlfriend draped over him on the bed drowsily, his teeth marks littering her neck and throat.

“Don’t,” Yoongi warns. “Everyone’s just wound up. Full moon is in two days, after all, cut him some slack.”

“Sees one girl he likes and suddenly no one else can talk to her,” Jimin complains, gingerly working his tongue across his lip ring to see if it’s torn.

“You tried to kiss her,” Jungkook growls, and Hoseok pushes on his chest to keep him from getting up.

Jungkook can’t explain why his wolf wanted to rip Jimin’s throat out when he leaned in to kiss you, he’d just met you, didn’t even know your last name, but it was visceral, sudden, something crawling up his throat. He’d almost moved forward to do it before Hoseok said his name, sharply.

“We all get a little possessive about potential mates around the full moon,” Namjoon reasons. “But that’s not the way to handle it, Jungkook.”

Jungkook hangs his head and removes the tissue from his nose with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, hyung.” He looks over at Jimin but he means it for Namjoon. He’s still bitter, somehow, about Jimin’s hand on your lower back, his lips brushing your cheek. It makes his head feel fuzzy, his guts roll.

Namjoon, on the other hand, had been the one to “discover” Jungkook, back when he had no idea why his eyes were starting to change color with the moon cycles or why his nails grew out like claws. He’d started learning percussion just to get rid of some of the energy he had around those times, and he’d been 17 when Namjoon approached him in a music store when Jungkook was looking into buying cymbals. 

Jungkook had been abandoned when he was a baby, adopted at four years old and he had no idea about his wolf lineage, or even that they existed, until Namjoon explained it to him.

“Jungkook doesn’t know his lineage,” Namjoon reminds them all. “He might just be presenting as an alpha, that’s a lot around the full moon, Jimin, you remember.”

Jimin grumbles something under his breath and Jungkook has to take a deep breath through his nostrils, smelling iron from their scuffle earlier, in order not to lunge across the room and hit him again.

Eventually, Jungkook has to move to his own room despite usually bunking with Jimin, and he finds himself unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling. He keeps seeing your bright smile, your curls bouncing around as you talked and laughed, mostly at Jimin, and it makes him stiffen to think of how Jimin had met you first.

Why did it matter, anyway? You’re just a person, just like he is, just a girl, and he doesn’t have the best track record with talking to girls, anyway. You’d been in the front row, with your friend who Hoseok had gotten so smiley about, he’d seen you just before he started his set, his vision clearer around the full moon.

The others laughed at him for how he talked about “the wolf,” as if it wasn’t a part of him, as if it wasn’t who he was, but that’s how it had always felt. He just hadn’t had a name for it until he’d met Namjoon. It was like this thing, inside him, this beast, something that clawed and scratched to get out.

Seokjin keeps telling him that he’s fighting the wolf, that’s why he hasn’t gone into rut or popped his knot, that’s why he feels so achy and fidgety around the moon cycles, that’s why he hasn’t shifted. Namjoon would always respond there was no way to know that but Seokjin just rolled his eyes.

“Aish, I’m your hyung, listen to me. I fought mine, too, when I was young, and when I shifted I broke a few bones. You should give in, let it ride in the front seat once in a while.”

Jungkook had nodded at the time but now, he doesn’t know how to do that. Drumming helped, it was a lot of work and energy expelled and it felt like he could let him out, the wolf, just a little. It’s why he’d gotten so big, staying active and lifting weights was something the wolf liked.

The wolf came sometimes when he masturbated, too, when he’d feel particularly worked up around the full moon, after a concert, sweaty and rolling his hips into his hand.

When he tries it after meeting you, he can’t even finish, ending up panting and sore, the wolf still snarling over the memory of Jimin’s lips barely brushing across your cheek.

Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungkook who texts you first. Wanna go for a drink?

You’re not sure whether to say yes at first, you’ve been feeling so strange. You can barely sleep, your skin feeling hot, as if you’d burned yourself with a too hot shower. You think about that night at the concert a lot, Jimin’s violet eyes, Jungkook’s almost red ones, how odd you’d felt.

You would have talked to Jia about it but she’s been abducted by the werewolf band, apparently, you’ve barely seen her in a week and when you had she’d been littered with hickeys and with a big goofy smile.

Part of you wonders if this is all some sex ring cult but she seems happy, jubilant even, so you agree, meeting Jungkook at a downtown bar.

He’s there before you arrive, you can see him through the window sitting at a table, looking wide and a bit intimidating until he lifts his head and smiles at you with a little wave.

His eyes are a warm brown now, pretty and wide, you’re able to notice the shape more without the contacts.

Jungkook is still all energy, maybe that’s just how he is, talking to you more and more as the nights go on and you two share a pitcher of beer, scooting his chair closer. You find he flushes a pretty rose when you flirt with him and can’t stop laughing when he nearly falls out of his chair when you prop your legs up in his lap.

By the end of the night he can’t stop smiling at you and you’re intrigued, moreso than you’d imagined you would be when you’d first met him, smiling shyly at you at the bar near the concert. You start to feel funny again, your head fuzzy, probably from the alcohol.

When you tell him, he’s all wide eyed concern.

You giggle. “Now I know why they call you Baby.” 

He huffs a little. 

He walks you outside just as he did before but this time he doesn’t hang back, and when you reach the alleyway, he places a hand on the swell of your hip as you take a few deep breaths of the night air.

You’re surprised, laugh a little until you look up into his eyes. You’d swear they looked red tinged again, but surely it’s just the beer.

“Not a baby,” he murmurs, moving closer, pressing you up against the brick with his body, and you hitch in a breath.

“No?” You ask, boldly trailing your finger along his collarbone through the black tshirt he’s wearing.

He shakes his head, leaned down close enough to your face that his nose brushes yours.

“Prove it,” you tease, and he makes this rumbling sound in the back of his throat that makes goosebumps break out across your flesh.

He leans down further, nips at your lower lip, and you moan, body surging forward toward his as if it was made to fit it. You’re not sure if you kiss him or he kisses you, but his tongue is in your mouth, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in.

You feel hot all over, dizzy in the most pleasant way, at least until he pulls away, gasping.

You whine, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever made before, when he’s not touching you anymore.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He’s gone before you can even gasp out another whine of his name, and the moonlight on your skin burns instead of cools.

Jungkook tells this story in a burst to his bandmates the next day, hungover with his head pounding.

“You just left her there?” Jimin says, his face shocked, and Jungkook feels the wolf make a growl start at the back of his throat.

Namjoon puts a hand on his shoulder and it turns into a whine instead. 

“I’ve never felt him that close, hyung. Right at the surface. I wanted to…”

Namjoon and Seokjin meet eyes above Jungkook’s lowered head.

Jimin catches it. Jimin catches everything, it’s one of the best and worst things about him.

“What? You think…” Jimin laughs. “No. She can’t be his.... She’s not a wolf, I would’ve smelled it when-”

Jungkook surges out of his seat, a deep growl rumbling from his chest. “When what, Jimin?”

Jimin’s eyes glow a pale violet as he snarls back, uncaring that Jungkook towers over him.

In the end, Namjoon and Seokjin have to separate them physically as they bark and snarl at each other.

Hoseok and Taehyung are missing, having holed up to ride out their ruts with their human mates instead of the house the seven share.

Yoongi huffs out a breath. “He’s definitely presenting as an alpha.”

“No shit,” Namjoon barks, unusually on edge. 

Yoongi, Seokjin, and Taehyung are the betas of the group, and until now there had only been a slight difference among the bandmates despite their different rankings.

Alpha pheromones were stronger and their senses were more heightened around rutting season, particularly for other mates. 

In the end, they have to completely change how they house themselves, with Jimin sharing a room with Yoongi, and Jungkook sharing with Seokjin.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jungkook says miserably, his wolf finally calmed as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not your fault,” Seokjin says, voice much less harsh than Namjoon’s had been earlier when he’d scolded him. “I saw Namjoon during this time, and it wasn’t easy.”

Jungkook looks up at the elder with wide eyes. “Really?”

Seokjin snorts and nods. “Yeah, around the full moon he was unbearable, snarling at everything.”

“I just didn’t want to scare her or...or hurt her...I wanted to put her against the wall and…” Jungkook trails off, embarrassed.

Seokjin only smiles and ruffles Jungkook’s hair. “That’s normal too, Baby. You wouldn’t have hurt her, especially if it’s what we think it is.”

“What...what does that mean?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Something you gotta work out on your own.”

Jungkook groans and flops down on the bed as Seokjin laughs, heading downstairs to make dinner while things are calm.

He has trouble sleeping again, but this time instead of wondering why, he knew, could almost feel the soft skin of your hip on his palm like it was still there, how you’d moaned into his mouth, whined for him.

Jungkook isn’t sure there’s a cold enough shower to help.

You can’t seem to sit still as the full moon nears, feeling like you might jump out of your skin. You can’t count the number of friends you’d called but no one seems up to going out. You bite your lip while looking at Jungkook’s contact on your phone screen.

If you think about it long enough, you can still feel the way he pressed against you, how the hair on the nape of your neck stood up when he nipped at your lip, how hot you’d felt, how wet…

You sigh and scroll up, seeing Jimin’s name instead. Jimin had been fun to be with the night you’d met, easy to talk to, less….intense. And he didn’t make you feel like you were about to crawl out of your skin, so you ask if he wants to meet up for a drink.

It’s late, by the time you decide, and the moon is out, waxing toward fullness. There’s only a tiny sliver remaining, big in the sky, and you can’t stop looking up at it as you walk to the bar near your house.

You’d chosen it because it’s close and not because it’s where hot drummer Jeon Jungkook, also known as Baby, had pressed you against an alley wall and made you almost…

Jimin jolts you out of your thoughts, calling your name and waving as you approach the door. He’s leaned against the doorjamb, giving you a smirk and you think now you understand why they call him Sly.

It makes you smile and again, you vibe well with him, you get along in the best way, conversation is easy and you don’t feel gooseflesh or your hair stand up when he brushes his fingers against yours.

Jimin knows he’s playing with fire when he replies to your text, but they don’t call him Sly for nothing, and you’re interesting, for a human. He’s only met one other female wolf, a tall and feisty woman with a sharp tongue and the most beautiful brown eyes, but she’d had a mate and well...things hadn’t ended well. 

Jungkook thinks of his wolf as this separate entity but Jimin disagrees, let’s his wolf do what it wants, so that all the bad things he feels have some kind of outlet. This was especially so after he’d lost his brown eyed wolf girl, so he invites you back to the house, knowing that Jungkook will be at the gym all night before the full moon tomorrow.

In fact, all of the others will be out, finding fun of their own, and why shouldn’t Jimin do the same? It isn’t as if Jungkook has marked you, or even can, since you’re human. 

Your eyes aren’t quite the same shade of hers, but he can pretend.

Jungkook works out until his muscles ache but nothing can shake this feeling he has, like something’s wrong. When he leaves the gym even the moon looks off, as if it’s dimmer than it should be, and something’s pulling him home, like this tug in his gut. It feels like it used to as a kid in his first foster home, when he’d get so anxious he’d climb onto the roof and stare up at it.

He’s almost running as he gets closer, feeling his skin prickle as he gets to the house, his wolf so close to the surface he can feel the fur that isn’t there yet standing up on the back of his neck.

He smells Jimin first, wrinkling his nose at the alpha pheromones, and when he walks upstairs it isn’t as if he decides to let the wolf take over, or struggles with it - it’s instant.

You’re standing in the hall, head tilted up, and Jimin is leaning against the wall, smiling down at you, and when you lean up to just softly brush your lips against Jimin’s, Jungkook’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, and the wolf barks, loud and warning.

You turn, surprised, and Jungkook doesn’t think, doesn’t act, it’s all wolf. He grabs you by your waist, hefts you up over your shoulder, and begins to walk you to his room.

Jimin protests and Jungkook growls over his shoulder, daring him to try something. Later, Jungkook is glad his friend didn’t follow, because he isn’t sure that he could have held the wolf back.

You kick and yell and beat on his back and Jungkook doesn’t realize what he’s done until he’s plopped you down on his bed, crawling toward you.

You kick him in the chest and it barely registers. You stand up and that’s when he snaps back to himself, at least to a degree.

"Don't leave. You can't leave." It's panicked, his voice, higher pitched almost like a whine.

"I can do whatever I want," you snap.

He makes this sound between a whine and a snarl and it's startling, strange, and you stop at the door.

"I know that! I know, but he doesn't!" 

"He..." you turn to look at him and he's trembling, head down, and you step closer, worried. "Baby, what do you mean?"

Jungkook just stands there, still trembling, until you reach out to touch his hair, gently. "He thinks he owns you, that you're his, that no one else can touch you." He explains, almost in a whisper.

"Who is he?" You ask slowly.

He raises his head slow and you gasp when you look into his eyes, instead of a warm brown this burnt amber, red hued.

"The wolf."

You stand there, blinking in surprise, for a long moment before actively telling your feet to move to the door. Unfortunately, your brain seems to have some kind of disconnect to your limbs, because you just step even closer, lean in and inhale along his neck, this scent of sweat and the iron of the weights he’d been lifting washing over you.

Rationally, you know that you should be shocked, horrified, even, that werewolves are real and you’re apparently standing in a house full of them but all you can do is run your tongue along the vein in his throat and Jungkook is trembling all over, whimpering like a puppy.

“Y/n, please, don’t-” he chokes out.

“Why not?” You murmur against his skin, the scent of him making your body react like you’ve never felt before. There’s this ache between your thighs that you’ve only felt a hint of before and you want more, nipping at his skin, unable to think clearly.

“He wants to...wants you,” Jungkook stutters, balling his hands into fists to keep from touching you.

“He does? Or you do?” You ask, lifting your head to pout at him, and Jungkook groans.

“Both,” he whispers hoarsely. 

“Then take me,” you say, and you don’t even know where the words came from. Your head feels light on your shoulders, dizzy with the scent of him, how his skin tastes under your tongue, and you do what he did to you the last night you’d seen him, nipping at his lower lip. Your canine pierces the skin and you taste iron on your tongue

Jungkook growls and lifts you again, this time with his hands under your ass and thighs and your legs wrap around him instantly. He all but throws you down on the bed, this time, and you whimper when he grips one of your thighs with his big hand, squeezing the flesh there.

“Mine,” he snarls, that high pitched whine at the end, and it makes you arch your back, claw your nails across his shoulders.

Jungkook leans down to sniff at your neck and growls again, wrinkling his nose and when you open your eyes he’s staring down at you with those red/amber eyes. 

You look back defiantly but you’re rolling your hips against his, you can feel him hard against your core and even though you’d never gone all the way with anyone before you want him inside you, can’t think of anything else.

“You smell like him,” he accuses, voice hoarse, and his wide eyes fade back to brown, just slightly, the color dilating around his pupils.

“Jungkook,” you whisper, feeling something like guilt, even though nothing had happened, really, and even it if it had…

He rubs his nose against your throat, covers you with his body like he’s replacing any of Jimin’s scent with his own. He licks against your neck, bites down on your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whines. “I’m sorry, I have to. You’re mine, I have to mark you, have to scent you anywhere he touched you,” he tries to explain, his hands skating down your ample curves.

“It’s okay,” you say, and somehow you mean it, you understand, the very thought of Jungkook smelling like anyone else makes your heart jump into your throat, something primal rise in your gut. “I know, baby.”

“You’re mine?” He says again, voice pitching up into a question just like when he’d introduced himself and it scares you, the way it makes your heart ache.

Instead of speaking you kiss him again, hard, moving your hands to his hair to get him closer. You had worn a skirt and halter out, it’s so warm even though it’s close to winter, your skin feeling so hot under the moonlight that you couldn’t wear much else.

Even as you kiss him he’s tearing at your clothes and you lean up to help him until you’re bare beneath him and panting, this whining noise coming from your throat that you can’t explain.

“God,” Jungkook groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m doing, I-”

“You haven’t...haven’t done this before?” Your eyes widen.

Jungkook realizes what you mean and he blushes a bit. “I’ve...yeah, I’ve done this before but not...not like this. I feel like...the wolf feels like...he’s been crazy. Since the first moment I saw you.”

“Like you’re gonna jump out of your skin? Always feeling...hot?” You ask.

Jungkook nods slowly, eyes widening.

“Me too,” you admit. “I don’t...I don’t know what it means. That’s why I came out with Jimin, I-”

Jungkook cuts you off with a choked whine. “It means you’re supposed to be mine.”

He snuffles against your neck again, hands at your hips, still holding back, trembling. “It means he never should have touched you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, even though you know you have nothing to apologize for. “I want you. I’ve never...I’ve never done this before but I want you so bad,” you admit, clutching at his tshirt, pulling it up until he gets on his knees and pulls it off, tossing it to the side. You spread your hands across his chest and he lets out a wrecked moan.

“You’re holding back,” you accuse.

He nods. “The wolf, he doesn’t….I don’t want to hurt you. Especially...fuck, no one’s touched you like this before?” His hands slide up and down your thighs as he stares down at your body, your breasts, the cleft of your cunt.

Jungkook knows that shouldn’t make him so hard, shouldn’t make his dick pulse in his sweats, shouldn’t make the wolf keen with pride. Mine mine mine, the first, the only is all his brain is chanting, he feels dizzy like he’s drank too much even though he hasn’t had a drop.

“Please, please, please,” you beg, but he can’t, can’t let the wolf out, he’s afraid he’ll rip you apart. You’re human and a virgin and he can’t risk hurting you.

The wolf won’t even let him say it, so he just shakes his head. 

You huff out a breath, your body aching all over, need making your arousal coat your thighs. You don’t know what you’re going to say until you say it.

“Should I ask Jimin to do it? I bet he can smell me,” you taunt, shocking yourself.

Jungkook freezes, his eyes bleeding to red again and one hand jolting out to wrap around your throat.

“Don’t,” he warns.

You know you should be cautious since you’re about to fuck an actual werewolf, but fuck, you’re so hot, you can’t think, you need something inside you and you drop your feet to the bed, spreading your legs wide.

“Jimin would mark me. He’d fuck me, fill me full like I want.” 

Jungkook feels something in him snap, and his heart hurts and his cock aches and the wolf is keening, clawing inside him and he can’t control it anymore, just like before.

“Never,” he growls, squeezes his fingers around your throat and you gasp, your stomach aching with need.

Finally, finally he slides his fingers along your pussy and you choke out a sob as his thumb slips across your clit but it’s not enough.

“Jungkook,” you whimper. “Make me yours.”

“Already mine,” he murmurs, and finally slides two fingers inside you, making you cry out. “You’re already mine but I’m gonna give you what you want, mark you, fuck you, make sure Park fucking Jimin never so much as sniffs at you again.”

“Yes,” you sigh. “Yes, please, please.”

Jungkook still worries somewhere in the back of his mind that he’ll hurt you, that the wolf will, and by now he understands they’re one and the same but you’re rolling your hips up and his cock feels heavy and full like he’s about to burst, somehow wider at the base and he rips down his sweats, fucking you with three fingers now. 

When his cock bounces against his stomach you gasp, and if you’d been in your right mind you might worry he’s too big but something inside you is crying out in pleasure just at the sight of it. You spread your legs wider and he releases your throat, leaning over to kiss you instead, biting your lip as he slowly works himself inside you.

It’s a tight fit even after three fingers and you’re whining into his mouth, wanting more.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, far from it although a little less experienced than some of his band members (Hoseok had once bragged about fucking a house of sorority sisters during a rut), but the way you clench around him has his hips twitching, wanting to buck into you even if it would split you open. 

Despite his worry, neither he or the wolf wants to hurt you, though, so he waits for you to adjust even as you beg, waits until you can take all of him.

He’s barely realized that he’s popped his knot until he looks down to see where you’ve joined and he groans. He knows how to do this, has been talked to (endlessly, by Taehyung, about his human girlfriend and how she desperately wants to take his knot and they’re working on it but it will take time and training), knows that you can’t take his knot but the wolf is howling for it, wants to fuck you hard and then pop it inside you, spill a littler into your womb.

You whine and pulse around him, reaching up to tug at his hair. “Kookie,” you pout. “Baby. Want you inside me, fuck me harder, please-”

“I can’t-” he chokes out, but then you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him deeper and the wolf growls, leans down, mine mine mine chanting in his head. My mate.

You felt a tiny pop when Jungkook first entered you, nothing painful and then just need, you want more and more and you don’t even know how to say it. You look up at him, near tears, needing something that you feel he won’t give you.

“I’m not yours yet,” you slur, and he looks pained, his eyes dilating from warm brown to amber red again and again.

He rocks his hips against you slow, and you’ve orgasmed twice already, once from his fingers and one from his cock but it’s not enough and you whine, it comes out almost inhuman, like his.

“Fill me up,” you urge, and Jungkook tries to hold the wolf back, he really does, but he’s too far gone, this close to the full moon and in the start of his first rut. 

Jungkook groans, fucks you harder and faster and when you cry out his name his balls draw up and he thrusts forward harder than he’d meant to, popping his knot inside you.

You make a surprised sound and his eyes pop open, his hands cupping your face even as his hips twitch as he cums, spills inside you.

“Y/n. I’m so sorry,” he mourns. “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he babbles, kissing along your neck and throat, seeing that he’d already marked you twice, once on each side of your throat, and he barely remembers it.

You let out a happy sigh and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling finally sated, at least for the moment. “What are you sorry for, silly baby?”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” He asks, and you look up into his eyes and they’re heterochromatic, now, red hued amber and brown both.

“You’d never hurt me,” you mumble against his throat.

“Never,” he promises. “Never, I love you so much.” 

You’re half asleep, sated with him still inside you, planting soft kisses on your lips and face. You don’t know where you’d learned the word, but it feels right when you say it, right before you drift to sleep.

“I love you too, Alpha.”

It takes a while to understand, especially between Jungkook being barely able to leave his room since he’s in rut and you’re in heat, but eventually, you figure it out.

Your great grandmother had been an omega werewolf, and it’s a recessive gene so you’d been the lucky one to receive it. Since you had never shifted because your gene wasn’t activated by male wolves, you had no smell.

At least, not until the full moon, when you shifted into what Jungkook says is the prettiest wolf he’d ever seen.

After, when you’d near your heat, Jungkook would snap and snarl at the boys so much just for talking to you that it made you roll your eyes, but eventually you got the dates right (for the most part, there’d been one instance in which Jimin had made a snarky comment and Jungkook had lunged at him and they’d gone rolling down the stairs), and you holed up in your apartment, instead.

Jungkook was working with Seokjin to understand that the wolf is him instead of some seperate entity. You tell him you’ve always known that. From what you know now, if the wolf wasn’t, he would have taken you the very first night. True mates are rare, and you’d both known it the whole time, even when you hadn’t.

You and Jia went to every concert, her always telling you her neverending sexcapades with Hoseok to be able to take his knot, front row, waiting for your Alpha’s set. It’s cute, you think, that they call him Baby on stage but he’s your Alpha, especially since he’s both, always, to you.

[macnevercries]

Hurt me? You could never (Kirishima x Plus F!reader)

Warnings- face riding, oral(receiving), plus sized reader, female pronouns/body, alcohol use, (slight dub con?)

Word Count- 2k

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The sway of the music was heavy as you moved with it, lost in a mob of people. Your hips circled drunkenly, dancing the night away in a pit of sweaty people enjoying themselves as much as you. As the room rolled and jolted you started feeling hot, the sudden flashes of temperature overwhelming you. You started to tug at your top, trying to get it off to relieve yourself of the burning sensation in your body. The fabric clung to your skin and you started getting angry. Just as the shirt started to give way it was tugged back down by a pair of large hands. You almost screamed in annoyance, turning around to see your boyfriend standing behind you, holding your drinks and trying to have you keep your dignity. Your annoyance turned to a soft smile, then a giddy laugh when you spotted the alcohol. Swiping towards the drink in his hand, you almost feel over with the motion. Kirishima dragged the cup away from you, steadying you on his muscular arm.

“I think that’s enough for tonight sweetheart” Kirishima consoled you, smiling at your cute pout.

“Kiri it’s sooooo hot in here, help me cool down” you mumbled, slumping into his chest. A deep chuckle erupted from him, your childish antics humourous.

“Were gonna go home now, okay babes? He asked, pulling you up into his arms, discarding the drinks in the nearest trash can. You mumbled an okay as he pulled you towards the exit, the blaring sounds of yelling and bass fading the further you got from the crowd. Kirishima nodded at the bouncer as you exited the club, pushing the heavy door open and out into the dark rainy parking lot. Clubbing was fun for you two but somehow it always ended in him taking care of you. Your weight had fluctuated over the years but you were always a little fuller than the other girls you knew. Despite your weight, you could not hold your alcohol. Kirishima had seen your drunken state many times and while it could be a hassle, he loved the way your soft body clung to him, you were a needy drunk.

 The rain soaked through your white top, exposing the pink Lacey bra you were wearing. Kirishima felt his pants tighten a little, looking at you in the rain, smiling brightly and lighting up his world. You had always shined so bright to him, even on your worst days. Kirishima ushered you into the car, leaning over your full breasts to buckle you in. He held in a breath at the touch, he could sense you sobering up and he was definitely in the mood. He got in the drivers seat and started the car, handing you some water to sip on for the drive home. For 15 minutes Kirishima was silent, only occasionally looking over at you to check and make sure you were fine. Every time he peeked at you and you had your lips wrapped around the straw of the water bottle he gulped, speeding up slightly, his anticipation building from within.

When you guys pull up to your shared home the red haired man practically runs around the car to open your door. He offers to help you walk but you’re almost sober now from all of the water you drink. Kirishima walks behind you up the driveway and steps to the door, watching the way your hips sway in your skin-tight clothes. Kirishima’s love had boosted your confidence a lot since you guys started dating and he was glad because tight clothes were definitely a blessing to his eyes. He had always had a thing for bigger girls, your soft figure brought him comfort when his own body and quirk wouldn’t allow it. Taking off your shoes at the entryway and locking the door, you headed to the bathroom to use it before slumping on the couch. The clock on the wall read 2am, it was too late to be awake. You leaned your head down on the pillows, resting your eyes momentarily. The catnap did not last long because after around two minutes you felt heavy gaze scanning your body. 

Sure enough when you opened your eyes, Kirishima was in front of you, gazing at you lovingly with half lidded eyes. Your top clung to your chest in all the right ways and the way you were laying accentuated your curves, to Kirishima you look delicious. Kirishima started towards you, crawling onto the couch beside you and snuggling himself between your thick legs, having his head rest on your plush chest. The slow up and down of your breathing both calmed him down and spurred him on more. You look at his flustered face, amused at how heated he was. Had you done something while you were drunk? Pushing that thought aside you accepted Kirishima, softly petting his head and running your fingers through his hair, making him sigh. His barely audible mumbles of praise and ‘I love you’ made you smile. He buried his face into your chest as you rubbed away his tension. 

Slowly he tugged at the neck of your shirt, pulling it down slightly so he could kiss up your collarbone. His kisses made you shiver, you could feel the lust and need oozing out of him. He rotated so that you were on top on him, pressed against him in the most tantalizing way. His lips traveled up your neck and your jaw until they reached your lips. He met you with a passionate kiss, hungry and desperate. He hiked your thighs around his waist, standing up and walking towards the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. No matter how heavy you were, Kirishima was stronger. He never had an issue lifting you and the way he did it made it seem so easy. 

He set you down on the bed and then crawled around you so that he was laying down behind you. You glanced back at him questioningly but the look on his face frightened you. He had a lazy grin and a mischievous glint in his eye, something enjoyable on his mind. 

“What is it Kiri?” you asked hesitantly, afraid of what you were about to find out. At your question he grinned wider, his sharp teeth sparkling in the dimly lit room. He pulled you close to him and leaned into your ear

“I want you to ride my face” he purred, happy with his idea. At his words you turned beet red, shaking your head aggressively and backing up slightly. This was definitely not what you expected. He pouted at your discontent with his idea.

“Baby please, you would look so good on top of me and you taste so good. God I want you in my mouth” He assured you, tugging you closer to him again.

“What if I hurt you? Eiji you know I’m too big for this.” you sighed, disappointed too. Maybe in a different scenario but this could never happen.

“Hurt me?” he laughed. Your eyes popped open, shocked by his change in demeanor. 

“Do you know what I would give to suffocate in these thighs?” he asked, squeezing your leg with love, but his grip was a little hard. 

“Just get on top of my face, if it doesn't work then we’ll stop, I promise” he reassured, stroking your back and coaxing you on top on him. Your will broke at his words, after all his idea was appetizing to you too. You took your pants off, tossing them in a far corner before situating yourself on the red head’s shoulders. He grabbed the back of your thighs, drawing you closer to his face. You couldn't help but turn away, despite the number of times you guys have had sex, Kiri’s pure love and devotion to you made you squirm. 

He licked a wet stripe up your panties suddenly, causing you to gasp. On instinct, your hips rutted back into his face and he chuckled, you muttered apologies, embarrassed by your lack of composure, You went to climb off of him, ready to go hide away but not before Kirishima could grab your hips with a bruising grip. Your head snapped back in his direction.

“You're not going anywhere kitten, we haven't even started.” He pulled your panties to the side and the cold air against your exposed core made you shiver. At the sight of your glistening cunt he licked his lips and got to work.

His tongue pressed flat against your cunt, licking heated and hungry stripes up you. He’d go down to tease your entrance and then up to circle your clit, sucking lightly and grazing it with his teeth. The pattern he created left you on a rollercoaster of feelings, moaning, mewling and dragging yourself against his face. Every time your hips stuttered and you got close he’d pull away to focus somewhere else. You whined, aggravated by his teasing. Some time passed and he kept his rhythm, never letting you finish. By now you were fuming, boiling over with rage.

“Eiji what the fuck” you spat when he changed stopped again for the umpth time. He looked up at you with the most innocent eyes, trying to convey his confusion with his mouth still buried in you.

“Why won’t you let me finish? I want to cum, please Eiji, make me cum” You purred. If he was gonna be like this then you would play his game. At your words something sparked in his eyes. His hips rutted up from the bed, your affect washing over his entire body. He curled one of his hands away from your thigh and prodded your entrance with his thick fingers. Slipping two in easily he watched in awe as emotions flashed past your eyes and you ground yourself down onto them.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my fingers, just like that baby” He murmured, causing you to go faster. He attached his lips to your clit, sucking with all of his might. His tongue flicked over your sensitive bud, teeth grazing it. His name flowed from your mouth as you humped down onto him, trying to snap the tightly wound coil that has been building up since you guys began. He pushed his fingers in a little deeper, twisting them and curling them right where you wanted him. This sent you flying over the edge, cussing and moaning as your orgasm hit you like a bus. He coaxed you through it, slowing his attack and letting you come down gently.

You slide off of his face, laying down in the bed beside him, still panting. Rolling over on your side, you nuzzle in his neck, placing your hand on his broad chest and basking in your post-orgasm glow. A nice familiar haze settled over you, happiness and lust blurring together.

“Thank you Eiji, that was amazing.” you breathed. He laughed lightly when he turned to you, a pleased expression on your face. 

“Of course, I don’t know who enjoyed it more, me or you.” He smiled, fond thoughts of you racing his mind. You kiss his neck, flitting around and placing butterfly pecks all over him. He giggles at your antics, rubbing your back encouragingly. 

“I love you, you know that right?” he asked, kissing your forehead and tilting your chin up so you would meet his eyes. You beamed up at him.

“I love you too”

[duskholland]

Okay but, Dom!tom making you ride him reverse cowgirl while he’s on a phone call meeting, and harrison being like what’s that slapping noise? And Tom being like I’m fucking my girl rn because he knows how SHY YOU ARE but he knows you get wet at ppl knowing and him being like the view I have rn mate, and Harrison just being like you’re the worst. He’d love tormenting you but also would reward you for still riding him like a champ during his work call 😏

fuck... I would lose my mind. I definitely had mob!tom in mind when I wrote this, but if you squint, it also works with normal tom. nsfw - 18+ only!!! extended warnings beneath the cut...

extended warnings: thigh riding, elements of exhibitionism, unprotected sex (please practise safe sex!!)

---

“There you go, darling. Making a nice wet spot on my leg, aren’t you?”

A strangled whine travels up your throat, and you moan softly as you nod against Tom’s shoulder. Your breaths come out in short pants, arcs of fiery pleasure travelling up your spine from the point at which your soaked, throbbing cunt presses to Tom’s leg. He’s had you grinding against his thigh for what feels like forever, teasing your neck with rough kisses as his hands guide your hips. 

“Tell me how badly you want it,” he murmurs, lips by your ear. Shivers pass down your spine as his husky tone travels straight to your clit, and you feel your hole clenching around nothing. “Tell me how badly you want to feel my cock.”

You bite at your lip, pushing your forehead further against his shoulder as you try to keep your composure. 

“Bad, Tom. Really, really bad.” This hadn’t been your intention when you’d walked into his office, smirking quietly. You’d expected Tom to take you over his desk, or unravel you with three fingers buried in your heat. You hadn’t expected him to hold you on the edge, passing your soaked heat over his thigh, over and over until you’re practically blubbering from the stimulation. He’s enjoying it - enjoying the whimpers and the moans and the slick that coats his thigh - you know he is. Tom thrives off reducing you to this almost feral state of existence. “Please let me feel you.”

Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you pull your face away from his shoulder and blink up at him, desperation in your eyes. Tom seems to melt, his pupils expanding and his jaw slackening as he takes stock of the flush to your face and the way you’re practically begging him with your eyes to indulge you. 

“Mmm, well, because you asked so nicely…” His heavy hands push at your hips, moving you out of the way so he can reach down, play around with his belt, and then carefully pull free his cock. You lick your lips at the sight of his member, flushed and weepy, but as you reach out to touch, Tom bats away your hand. “No, darling,” he murmurs. One of his hands smooths over your cheek, thumb resting over your lower lip. You let your tongue slip out, wrapping around the tip of his finger before drawing it back into your mouth. As you suck on his finger, Tom curses. “Such a fucking minx, aren’t you?” He muses. “Look so fucking innocent, don’t you? Hmm? You walk around like you’re an angel, but both of us know that’s a lie.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and lets his palm fall over the curve of your ass, causing you to jolt. 

“Tom,” you whine, grinding back against his thigh. Now you’ve seen his length, all flushed and full like that, you know there’s nothing you need more than to feel him plugging you to the hilt. “Please.”

Tom smirks at you, brown eyes glinting darkly. Both of his hands pull at your ass roughly, causing you to whimper. 

“Turn around, love,” he asks, already helping you with his hands. “Want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock from behind.”

A flush travels through you as you turn in his lap and back up, whimpering when you feel his hard cock, stiff between your swollen pussy lips. You sit up straighter, feeling Tom’s mouth ghosts over your shoulder as his hand slips between your thighs, guiding his cock until you feel his head, hot and wet, stiff at your entrance 

“Gonna ride me, angel?” He asks, voice gruff. He nibbles at your neck until you whine. “Don’t want you to stop until you’ve cum, yeah?” 

You nod, almost delirious with want. “Yes, yes,” you murmur, biting back the desire to buckle down. You need to wait for his command. “Please, Tom.”

“Go ahead.”

A loud whine rattles past your lips as you finally let yourself down onto his cock, Tom’s hands firm as they shift to your hips to guide you. He’s big - so big that it makes you whimper as you slowly start to ride him, enjoying every pleasurable sensation as you feel his cock rock against your hot centre. You reach out to hold the edge of his desk, the glass cold against your clammy skin as you use it as an anchor, keeping you in place as you start to lose yourself in the feeling. 

“Doing so well for me, sweetheart,” comes Tom’s voice, raspy and thick with accent. Every now and again, he ruts his hips up to meet your pelvis, and you groan loudly as his tip knocks up against your sensitive g-spot. “Look so fucking good like this, fucking yourself on my cock. Wish I could look at this forever.” He drops his hand over the curve of your ass again and you whimper, feeling a tightness forming in the pit of your stomach. 

You move in sync for a while, your pants and the sound of slapping skin filling the office. Tom’s giving with his praise, soothing you with his low uttered sentiments, praising you for the way you’re making him feel, urging you to go faster, rougher, to push the both of you over the edge. You’re lost in it, gasping and biting at your lip, pressing yourself closer to heaven with each rotation of your hips. 

You’re so lost in it that you don’t hear Tom’s phone ringing, not even aware of it until you see him reach out and grab the device on the desk. One of his hands shifts to your lower back. 

“Keep going, love,” he mutters, voice tight. “Don’t fucking stop.” Your jaw drops as you realise what he’s doing, but before you can question him, Tom answers his phone. “Haz? What’s up?”

For a moment you considering stopping, embarrassment churning alongside your arousal as you contemplate the thought of Tom’s friend hearing something obscene down the line, but then Tom angles his hips up to meet you, and the sensation of his tip brushing against you so deeply makes your mind go numb. So, you grip the table harder and continue, your orgasm only drifting nearer as you hear Tom carry his conversation with Harrison, his voice tight and rushed. 

“Aye, yeah. The papers are a mess, you’ll need to look at them tomorrow. Hey, wait a second bro, yeah, just-“

You can’t see what he’s doing, and for a moment, you think Tom’s disconnected, but then he reaches out and puts the phone on the desk, the screen bright and showing the call. 

“-Right, keep going. Just put you on speaker.”

Tom’s hands return to your hips, and immediately you turn around, an ache building in your neck as you glare at him. He raises his eyebrows, fingers squeezing at your flesh as he gives you a look as if to say go on. 

“Yeah, so, as I was saying, I think I’ll come around in a couple hours to get the scans-“

You grit your teeth, trying to drown out the sound of Harrison’s static voice as your thoughts travel back to the matter at hand. You’re so wet - you feel your arousal dripping down Tom’s cock as you continue to ride him, a sweat breaking out across your forehead. Somehow you manage to reduce your moans to laboured breaths, and for a few minutes, Tom keeps up conversation, Harrison seeming none the wiser. But it all falls apart when Tom tilts you to the side and the position shifts, your eyelids fluttering shut as the angle brings him in deeper - at the expense of a few very loud sounds of skin against skin. 

“-What’s that noise? Sounds like slapping?”

Tom keeps his hands on your hips, urging you on as you bite back a whimper. 

“I’m fucking my girl,” Tom replies, easily. You bite back a gasp, and you’d have looked around at him if he didn’t distract you by weaving a hand between your legs to play with your clit. The added stimulation adds to your desperation, and the fact that Harrison knows you’re getting railed makes your cunt clench. 

“Fucking hell,” Harrison mutters. 

“I have the best view right now, mate,” Tom adds. “You should see her.” 

You let go of the desk, sitting up and pressing your back against Tom’s front, your breathing heavy as you feel your climax linger. As you continue to move up and down, his lips work across your shoulder, biting at your skin as you hold back your whimpers. Tom’s lips travel up to your ear, and he adds, softly, 

“I can feel how wet you just got. I know you fucking love the thought of Haz hearing us. I know how close you are too, darling. You want to cum, don’t you? You want to cum, with Harrison on the line? Let him hear those pretty little screams, hmm?” 

You find yourself nodding, squirming in Tom’s lap as his calloused fingers play with your clit. 

“Please,” you whisper, eyes screwed shut. 

“Do it,” Tom mutters. “‘Cos I’m about to blow it, love, and I want to feel you cumming around me as I fill you up.”

Your eyes roll back as you finally tip over the edge, your orgasm sweeping over you in large, warming waves. Tom’s hands are slippery on your sides, wet with hot sweat, and he bites at your shoulder as he follows suit, cumming with a low groan. You feel his cock pulse, painting your walls with his seed, and together you unravel. 

It’s all pants and lazy open-mouthed kisses as you twist in his arms, still attached at your centre. You hold the back of his head with shaking fingers, kissing him roughly until Tom’s hand moves away from your clit. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, pushing your forehead to his. After a moment, you pull back and look at the desk, nervous until you realise his phone screen has gone blank. You reach out for Tom’s phone, grabbing it and turning it on curiously. 

Harrison: you’re ridiculous.

“What does it say?” Tom asks, pecking your cheek. You repeat the message, and he grins, eyes dancing with amusement. “He loves it really,” he says, before wiggling his eyebrows. “You do too, don’t you?”

You shrug, licking your lips. “Maybe.”

Tom chases your lips with his mouth, inflamed and warm. “Did well for me, though,” he says, eyes glinting. He kisses you again, hand shifting back towards your clit. “I think I should reward you for taking me so well, don’t you?”

You nod, a smirk biting at your lips. “Go ahead.”

[simsadventures]

Gilded: Chapter 1: To Bride or Not to Bride

Mob! Steve x Reader

Summary: Your life is a mess and you need a little help from time to time. But, when somebody proposes a plan to rid you of all your problems all the way to the far future, you’re suddenly not so sure it is worth it. Especially since the plan is proposed to you by the most notorious gangster America has seen since Al Capone: Steve fucking Rogers. 

Warnings: mafia AU, swearing (like, a lot this time), angst, struggles with money, loan-shark, sleazy men, harassing

Word Count: 7969

A/N: It’s finally here! It only took me around 6 months to bring it, and I apologise for the delay, but I hope I will make up for it with introductory this chapter :) Share your thoughts, let me know what you thought and what do you think will happen next :) xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist 

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for what felt like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“I told you, honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing. 

2 weeks ago

“Coming!” You yelled through the loud music at the guests seated by the table number 5 where a group of guys was seated, hollering at you every two seconds as if you didn’t hear them the first time. You rolled your eyes at your colleague, who just laughed under her breath as you strode towards the clients. You put on your best fake smile as you approached them, and from the whistles, you assumed they appreciated it. 

“Thank God you came, sweets. We thought you were getting tired of us,” the loudest of them laughed, and the group followed his suit, making your clench your jaw even more. Oh, how you hated this type of men, who had nothing better to do than calling a woman pet-names, making her feel uncomfortable just so his friends could have a laugh and a story to tell. 

“What can I get you, gentleman? Another round of the same?” You asked as sweetly as you could, but it was getting harder by the second as they all eyed you like a piece of raw meat, ready to be devoured. 

“I mean, that would be nice, and could you serve us a piece of that sweet ass of course as well? We’d really appreciate it, pretty face,” the loud guy smirked sleazily, and you fought the urge to vomit in your face. One of the guys made the mistake of actually making a move to swat you across your butt, but your reflexes were quicker. 

You took a step back and breathed in, trying to calm your beating heart. This was, however, nothing new in your line of work, and you just learned to ignore it, or, at best, politely turn them down. Because, as you learned very early on, the manager didn’t appreciate if his “girls” were nasty to his customers. He almost made it sound like you were to provide your bodies with the beers, but you told him straightforwardly that that wouldn’t happen, and if his pub was one of these, you wanted to have nothing to do with it. All you were there to do was to work the evening and night shift to get some extra money on top of your regular job, and that was it. He even made a few remarks how he wanted you all to himself, but you politely declined every time and just tried to ignore it altogether.

“This ass is not for sale, I’m sorry, boys. But, the vodka shots are coming right up,” you tried to give them your best wink but didn’t wait long enough to see if they accepted their loss or not. You genuinely didn’t care. 

The night continued in a similar manner, some people being inappropriate and you just ignoring their behaviour, and some people actually nice, even leaving you a few tips which always made you smile. You were beat when it was 11, and your shift ended, and you were thrilled today wasn’t one of those days when you had to stay there till 4 AM. It was then that people got really disgusting and you even had to resolve to hit a guy this one time because otherwise, you were pretty sure he’d manage to rape you. You sighed at the memory as you continued on your way home, just now remembering you left the tips meant for you in your locker.

Sighing you turned around and walked back towards the bar, and when you were in, you noticed three men in black suits talking to your coworker, who looked stunned and scared at the same time. You cocked a brow at her, and she discreetly shook her head, telling you that you shouldn’t come nearer. 

This time, you really frowned and looked around, but the rest of the pub looked exactly the way you left it, even with the assholes by the fifth table. But you listened to her and took a step back to one of the dark corners, watching what was going on by the bar. It didn’t take long, definitely not longer than 5 minutes before the men turned around and left the building. 

Your coworker looked positively alarmed by now, and you almost ran to her to ask what the fuck did just happen. 

“I have no idea, Y/N. I noticed them by table 10 like an hour ago, but I didn’t pay them any attention because that was Christy’s sector tonight and I had the veranda. And when you left they just came here asking about you,” she breathed out, and it was your turn to look alarmed. 

“The fuck? Why would they ask about me when it was Christy who took care of them?” You screeched, your brain not really comprehending the situation. 

“I have no fucking idea, Y/N. But, like, they asked your name and stuff, and like, if you were a regular waitress here or what. I didn’t want to tell them anything, I swear, but they didn’t take no for an answer. So I just told them your first name, I wouldn’t budge on your last, I promise, and told them that you sometimes worked here but that I didn’t know when was your next shift,” she finished, a little scared of your reaction now, but from the look of those guys, you knew they were bad news and that Anja did the best she could.

“Nah, it’s ok, An. I would do the same. I’m really grateful that you didn’t give them my last name, though, that was really thoughtful of you,” you smiled at her, and it obviously put her at ease as she hugged and hurried back to the veranda, where you both saw a few guests waving that they needed a refill. 

The hell did just happen, and why would three mysterious men ask about you? 

It couldn’t be that they found out, right? No… you made sure all the traces were hidden, forever, so, that wasn’t an option. 

No, you told yourself, there must be another reason for them to ask about you. But you didn’t want to find out. It was a one-time thing, these men were just confused, or one of them liked you or something like that, and you would never see them again. This actually calmed you down enough to start functioning again, and you remembered that you came for something specific, took the money and went straight home. 

“This can’t be happening,” you muttered as you looked over your bills. There was so much to pay and so little money on your account that you actually started to sweat. You worked two jobs and still wasn’t able to afford to live a life where you didn’t have to worry about money. What was more, with the high taxes, your rent, subway card and food you went into red numbers, and that was something you definitely didn’t want. Nobody told you that as an Arts Major, you could still be struggling to stay alive in the city of New York. 

You went over the bills again even though you knew your math was correct and that you didn’t have enough to pay your landlord this month. 

Fuck, you muttered again and considered your options. You could ask your friends, but you didn’t want to bother them since you knew they were struggling as much as you were. You shared your apartment with two of your best friends who you considered a family by now, Caroline and Aidan. And while you knew they would do anything to help you, neither of their jobs paid enough to be able to help you as much as you needed this month. 

Your other option was asking your landlord to give you some more time before more money arrived, but just imagining the conversation gave you goosebumps because you could picture the kind of service he’d want from you, and you’d literally rather go and beg on the street than to sleep with that middle-aged pig. 

So, as you summarised it, the only option remained the loan shark. Tony was actually a nice guy, once you got to know him, and he was nice to you because you always paid precisely what he told you to when he told you to, and never asked too many questions or begged for more time. You were smarter than that, and, besides, you’ve seen too many movies with loan sharks to know what could happen to you. 

The first time you went to him was probably 2 years ago, straight from university when you still thought you could make it big in New York. Well, safe to say that you didn’t make it, and while you remained hopeful, you had bigger problems than becoming a renown painter, like not starving to death and other fun stuff like that. 

You were awfully scared to go to Tony, he had a reputation of being kind of an ass, but people also said that, compared to the other guys in the business, he actually had the fairest demands, and as you had no other choice, you just went to him. And because life was a bitch, you ended up going there on more occasions. Tony was kind enough always to lend even small amounts of money because you really didn’t need 100K. No, you always need like 1 or 2 thousand, and while the other loan sharks turned people like you down, Tony didn’t, and he never wanted more than like 400$ as a return, which seemed quite fair as the other guys always wanted 100% or more. 

Well, Tony, it was, as you sighed looking around your room, thinking how you even got where you were. But there was no time to waste pitying yourself, and so you shot Tony a quick message, as you always did, and to no surprise, he was very quick to respond that you should come by later that afternoon. 

You were just getting ready when Aidan burst through your door. He stopped mid-step, looking at you confusedly because you didn’t tell him you were going somewhere. 

“Got a date or what? You never go out on Saturday afternoon, not if you can help it,” he said sceptically, looking around the room as his eyes landed on the fumbled papers on your table, and the look of realisation hit him. 

“You going to Tony again? Y/N, we told you, we can help you, babe! Let us help just this once, please?” He pleaded with you even though he knew it was useless. 

“C’mon, babe, you know you and Caroline are not making much either, and you’re both glad to get by another month. Tony is like an old friend by now, really. I don’t mind it that much, and it’s definitely a better option than burying you two with me under this pile of shit,” you huffed as you finished applying mascara, but you didn’t even check yourself in the mirror, really not caring that much how you looked. You went to Manhattan just to meet Tony and would go straight back, quick mission, in and out. 

“You need to find a better job, Y/N,” Aidan smirked at you, and you just laughed because you both knew it was pretty much impossible, especially since you loved your day job with the only issue that it paid like shit. 

“You know this is my chance to be close to art and I really want it. I mean, it could happen that they promote me from being a receptionist to like, I dunno, being a secretary to one of the curators of the gallery, right?” 

He just huffed and kissed the top of your head, striding towards the door. It was only then that you noticed he was dressed to go out as well. 

“And where are you going, mister?” You asked with a mother-like tone, and he just laughed, turning around as if he was caught in the act. 

“So, you remember John?” He asked, sitting on your bed, and you actually laughed out loud at him. 

“Which one? I mean, there has been so many Johns and Peters that I swear to God I’m starting to think there are only men called John and Peter in the whole fucking New York. So, more info, babe, please,” you scooted to him and listened to which John it actually was he was meeting and was pretty excited about this. This was John the Ballet dancer, and he looked really nice, so far. 

John the Fake Mobster was a lying bastard, John the Hairdresser wanted Aidan for just that one thing but would never admit it, and then you didn’t even have John-the for the guys because they were all just idiots who didn’t see your best friend for what he was: an amazing, although a little extra person with a very good heart, great sense of humour and amazing hair. 

“Alright, well, you know the drill. Keep your phone on data so we can use Find your Friend if needed, keep your eyes open for anything sketchy going on, but, most importantly, enjoy yourself, babe. I’ll see you tonight,” you hugged him tightly and walked out of the apartment and into the busy streets. 

If it were all up to you, you’d live in a secluded place, somewhere in the north probably, like outside Seattle, where you’d have a lovely little house, maybe by a river or by the ocean or something, where you’d have enough inspiration for your art and where you wouldn’t be annoyed by the little things, like the car horns blaring all the way to the night, people shouting underneath your bedroom’s window, and little things like that. 

But life was not a factory for fulfilled wishes, and you had to endure another day trying to make it in New York. You thought about all of this as you walked down the street to where you knew you could find Tony. You weren’t happy that you had to go to him, again, but you also knew that you didn’t need to worry anymore. You would have the money for your landlord by the end of the week, and when the gallery paid you, you would pay Tony back. Again. 

“If it isn’t my favourite girl!” You heard a familiar voice hollering from the shop, and you laughed lightly as you walked into the pawnshop Tony had set up in the lower Manhattan. 

“Hello to you too, Tony. Today a yellow day, or what?” You greeted him as you looked at his outfit, which was just a canary yellow tracksuit and a matching hat. He looked like a character from a bad movie, but you knew better than to say anything like that. 

“Yellow is very classy and trendy, thank you very much! Yesterday I wore this really nice green velvet tracksuit, and you should have seen some ladies walking by, they almost ate me with their eyes! I swear!” He added as he saw you stifling a laugh, but you just nodded in fake understanding, and both of you shared a relaxed laugh. 

“So, what can I do for you today, sweetheart?” He drawled, and you shuffled on the spot, always feeling slightly uncomfortable when it came to this part. 

“I need a thousand this week. Ton. I’ve been working my ass off, but the bills keep building up, and every time I think I’m out of it and I can live normally, there is always something holding me back,” you sighed, scratching your arms which was a nervous habit of yours that Tony grew quite fond of. 

He was almost sorry for saying the next thing, but this was way above his pay grade, and while he really did take some liking to you, and he would always give you enough time to pay him off, he knew who he couldn’t piss off. 

“Listen, Y/N, I have a proposal for you,” Tony started, and you frowned, not really knowing where this was going, but from the look on Tony’s face, you could tell it was nothing good. 

“There is somebody who would like to get to know you, and he has a proposal for you that he believes you can’t refuse. I don’t know any specifics, I just know he is willing to pay you a lot of money, and I’m talking thousands and thousands, Y/N. He said that nothing sexual would be involved because I told him that if he was looking for a one night stand, you weren’t his girl, but he assured me that this wasn’t it. He would like to meet with you and tell you all the details if you let him. And before you say no, Y/N, think about it. All you gotta do now is to meet him and listen to him, and he is one of those guys who don’t take no for an answer,” Tony finished, and while you saw it pained him to give you the message, you were too stunned to care. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Tony? Is this some kind of a sick joke? Like, did this guy tell you he wanted to talk to me specifically or just a girl desperate enough to come here?” You blurted, still not getting what he was about. 

“He asked for you, sweetie. I don’t know how, but he knew you’d come and told me when you did to give you the message and give you his address. Which is here,” he said, handing you a piece of paper with an address and a date with the time written on it, “and he told me that if you came and agreed to his plan, you wouldn’t have to worry about money this week or any other week. It could be your chance, Y/N. Look, the guy is extremely powerful, so, please, just go and meet him, and you’ll see, ok?” He was scared, and it made you scoff out loud. 

Great, so a loan shark was giving you a message to meet some mysterious, powerful asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer and who probably stalked you as he knew you would be coming to Tony sooner or later. Just great, really. 

“It seems I don’t really have a choice, do I? Sheesh, Tony, at least tell me who this guy is and like how scared I should be. You gotta give me something because I can’t just go to some random house and be totally ok with it. Nobody can’t expect me to do so,” you pointed out, and Tony nodded in understanding. 

“Totally, yeah. I even asked if I should come with you, but I was told you should be alone. You should be alert, let’s put it that way. If I were you, I’d really think before I speak, because this guy doesn’t take anything lightly. And I think it would be best if you didn’t know his name, Y/N. Just… he doesn’t want to hurt you, all he wants to do is speak to you, so please, just do it,” Tony finished just as some customer came into the shop. 

You waited patiently because the conversation was far from over, but you knew better than to start shit in front of some stranger. Tony was evidently scared shitless of the guy, and it only fuelled your already growing anxiety. Tony was determined not to share too much information with you, but you didn’t understand why. Why could you not at least know the guy’s name? Who could it be? 

Your brain took a detour to a few nights ago back at the pub where you saw the men asking about you, and a cold sweat broke on your skin. It must have been connected, there was no doubt in your mind about that, and it filled you with so much dread you actually had to catch your right hand with your left to stop yourself from shaking violently. 

The doorbell rang signalling the customer left, and your eyes gazed at Tony, who was already staring at you apologetically. 

“And what about the money, Tony? It’s Saturday, and I need to pay my rent by Friday next week. Nice of the guy, whoever the fuck he is, that he wants to see me, but he won’t if I’m on a fucking street next weekend,” you seethed, and Tony was quick to walk around the counter behind which he was standing this whole time and walked closer to you. 

“He wants to see you on Wednesday, Y/N, and he specifically told me not to lend you any money, that he would take care of it. Whatever the fuck it means.”

“The fuck? I don’t even know his fucking name, and he will stop me from getting money to survive? What the actual hell, Tony? You can’t be serious right now,” you cried out in utter desperation because none of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to come, chat a little with the goatee man, get the money and walk back home, where you’d watch some stupid TV show and drink shitty wine. 

But no, of all the people living in New York this shit must be happening to you. As you didn’t have enough on your fucking plate as was, some mysterious fucker had to be interested in you for whatever reason, and he wouldn’t let you live without talking to him first. 

“Can’t you just call him and tell him that I want to have nothing to do with him?” You asked when you felt calm enough to talk again. You didn’t even know whether you were scared or desperate or angry, but at best, you were feeling a mix of all these and some more, that was for sure. 

“No can do, sweetie, but I promise it will be alright, ok? You’re a strong one, I know that and whatever he wants from you, you can either give or can talk to him,” Tony smiled sweetly, and while you knew he was full of bullshit you let it slide because you just didn’t have it in you to fight with him when he was clearly just the messenger. Whoever wanted to speak to you, however, he would hear it from you because where were we that a guy just asks for a girl and the whole of New York delivers her to him on a silver platter?

Wednesday 

“You gotta be kidding me, Y/N. Are you seriously considering going there? For all you know it might be some elaborate trap and somebody’s gonna jump you and kill you in some dark alley,” Caroline screeched at you as she saw you getting ready after you came home from work. 

You had to ask for a night off from the pub since mister nobody wanted to meet you on your night of work. But you knew you couldn’t say no. Whoever it was, Tony was afraid of him, and Tony was a tough guy. And not that you wouldn’t be brave, but your bravery was mostly concentrated on being able to throw a spider out of the apartment or walk the corridor with the lights out, not really crossing some powerful guy who could do God-knows-what to you if you didn’t come. 

“C’mon, guys. You know I gotta do it. And I honestly think if they wanted to kill me, they would have already done it,” you muttered, trying to pick something to wear, that wasn’t too revealing, but you also didn’t want to go wherever you were going in a pair of baggy sweatpants you were currently rocking. 

“But like, what if they want to make a personal slave out of you, huh? Like, cuff you to a ceiling and serve them with your body, like a personal kind of slave, you know what I mean? You were not made to be strapped to a ceiling, babe,” Aidan panicked, and you actually had to laugh. 

“Your imagination never ceases to astonish me, Aid. Or are you speaking from personal experience?” You smirked as both you and Caroline laughed out loud at Aidan’s expression of utter disgust. 

“You two are disgusting, and I hate you, but that doesn’t change the fact you still don’t know where the fuck you’re going,” Aidan countered and you rolled your eyes at him. 

“I’ll keep my data on so you can see me this whole time, and if I don’t call you by 9 PM you can send the cops there, deal?” 

They both nodded in agreement, knowing this was the best they were getting. You were glad you had them in your life and that you had people caring enough to try and stop you from doing something stupid, but something in your told you that your life would be even worse if you didn’t go. At least this way you’d know the whole story, and you would be able to make an educated decision based on all the variables. 

“A’ight, but if anything sketchy happens, you run, ok? We can figure out the money, but we can’t figure out shit if you’re not here with us,” Caroline reminded you, and you nodded solemnly. 

God, you just hoped you weren’t making a mistake by listening to Tony. He even shot you a message in the afternoon, reminding you to go there because if you didn’t, it could end up badly for both of you. And it was actually one of the decisive arguments in the whole thing, surprisingly. You didn’t want anything happening to Tony, especially not because of you and your decisions, and so you just told yourself to suck it and prepared for the evening. 

You really couldn’t afford the cab, so you had to leave super early to be at the given address at precisely 7 PM. You also grabbed the book you were currently reading, Kim Stanley Robinson’s New York 2140, so that the ride to Manhattan wouldn’t be as dull and dreadful. You could think of the utopian future he depicts rather than thinking of your journey to the lion’s den, and that was the most promising image you created in your head about the place where you were headed. 

Not that you didn’t try to find the place on Google maps, but all the buildings on the address looked the same, and, actually, quite nice, so you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 

Meanwhile, Tony texted you again since you didn’t reply to his previous text, and this time you took the time to craft a message telling him that yes, you were indeed headed to the manor and he didn’t need to worry about his own neck because you wouldn’t let others be hurt because of your incompetence or your cowardice. 

You knew you were getting off on Chambers St station and you actually took the time to think how many people living in Tribeca had to take the subway. The answer was, very obviously, zero, as the majority of the people in the subway were either passing or were clothed in a way you knew they worked in either one of the restaurants there or as a help. And you felt like one of them, because you too didn’t live in the wealthiest village in New York, and you too were going there mainly for business. Well, at least you hope you did. 

Checking every house number when you got to the street you were supposed to meet the mysterious guy at, you tried to find where exactly was the bat cave, and when you saw the number 112, you knew you found it. 

Your breath came in ragged huffs as you tried to gather the last remnants of your bravery as you walked up the stairs and buzzed on the door. Your head was spinning lightly, and you actually had to lean against the wall beside you to regain your composure. 

The door soon revealed a massive man dressed in a black turtleneck and a pair of black jeans, and you were actually quite surprised not to see him with sunglasses and an earpiece. If the situation weren’t so tense, you’d probably joke about it, but as it was, you just followed his lead as he beckoned you inside. 

“Miss Y/L/N, I presume? I need to see your phone and your belongings, ma’am,” he stated, and you raised a brow at him. 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a standard procedure, ma’am. Everybody here to see the boss needs to be checked, just in case,” he stated, leaving no room for discussion, and while you sighed exasperatedly, you still handed him your bag and made a point by fishing out the phone and shoving it in his outstretched hand. He took a quick look through your belongings, pushing it against what you assumed was some kind of a metal detector before he pulled out another device. This looked like a big phone, and he scanned your bag once again. 

“What is that?” You asked, unable to stop your curiosity. 

“Checking if you’re not bugged,” he answered matter-of-factly as he continued before he put the device down, clearly not finding anything. Where would you even get a bug, and why would you do it? You rolled your eyes inwardly but kept a straight face in front of the man, just in case he was watching. Which he was, as you found out by him waving in front of your face and showing you to follow him. 

You braced yourself for whatever was awaiting upstairs and obediently walked behind him. 

As you walked through the house, you got the impression that whoever lived there was wealthy, but that kind that didn’t really put on a flashy show. There were no chandeliers, no heavy curtains and stuff you pretty much imagined this place would look like and that image had nothing to do with the Beast and the Beauty dance room, nothing at all. 

But this was… modest. Everything was very contemporary, some prominent brick here and there with mostly grey floors and the furniture was most definitely customary but, again, it was plain yet luxurious. You assumed that’s how the really rich people lived. They knew they had the money, and the people around them knew it as well, so there was no need for diamond stairs and a golden toilet. 

A few names surged from memory as you heard your coworkers discuss the wealthy New Yorkers, but you didn’t want to assume anything before you actually saw the person, so you just walked by the halls before the man stopped in front one of the rooms and quietly knocked. 

It was not surprising when another man dressed exactly like the guy leading you appeared from the room and took a quick look at you before he said something to whoever was behind him. When the affirmative came that you could indeed go in there, they shoved the door open and what you assumed was a living room appeared in front of you. It corresponded with the whole house, but your attention was caught by one specific thing. Your brain had its own world, and when you saw one of Tunji Adeniyi-Jones’s paintings from his last year’s exhibit, you almost fainted. He was your favourite contemporary artist. And seeing his work outside of the gallery was practically an otherworldly feeling. You gaped at the beautiful play of colours, and your heart swooned at the perfection of the brush strokes. 

“Ehm,” you heard somebody cough beside you, and it startled you so much you actually jumped to the side, your hand flying to your chest in a feeble attempt to will your heart to stay calm. 

You took the intruder in and found out that unlike every other man in the room (and there were a few, as you noticed) this guy wasn’t wearing all-black attire. He was in a comfortable-looking creme sweater and a pair of dark blue jeans, everything fitting him as if the clothes were sawn to his body. 

Which, as far as you could tell, was the body of a Greek God. 

“See something you like, honey?” The man interrupted thoughts, and it just crossed your mind that he was really rude, not letting you breathe even for a second before he had to make his presence known. 

“Yes, actually. I’m quite a big fan of the artist whose painting you have there, so I admired that. And you are?” You trailed at the end, signalling that while he was very handsome, you had no idea who he was and why it was that you needed to come to him this evening. 

“Straight to business, huh? I like that. I’m quite surprised Tony didn’t tell you who I was. Was he scared you wouldn’t have come if you knew?” He didn’t wait for your answer, however. “Well, honey, I’m Steve Rogers, and I am very pleased to meet you,” he smirked at your stomach dropped. 

Steve Rogers? That Steve Rogers? It wasn’t possible. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” you muttered as you scratched your arms nervously. 

“Oh no, on the contrary. I’m all too real, Miss Y/L/N, and from the looks of it, I’m glad Tony didn’t tell you, you look like you might faint. Are you feeling alright?” He asked like the smug asshole he was, and you just turned away from him, taking a deep breath before you finally turned back around to face him with a pokerface. 

“I’m alright, thank you. So now, can I know what it is you want from me so much you stalked me and made me come here, pretty much by force?” 

He scoffed but showed you to follow him to the sofa. When you didn’t budge, he simply took you by your elbow and pretty much shoved you down to the plump sofa. 

“Force, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I simply asked you to come visit me, is it so wrong? But yes, you are right, we should talk about why I invited you here. You see, Y/N, I’m in need of a wife, and after long calculations, I came to the conclusion you would be perfect for the job,” he said straightforwardly, and it was now that you felt like you’d faint. 

“Marry me? Are you fucking insane?” You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Form the pissed off expression on his face, you could see it was not the right move, but he couldn’t expect any other reaction, really. 

“Easy, honey or I might have to use the said force to shut that smart mouth of yours,” Steve mumbled dangerously, and you swallowed harshly. 

“Right, you’re a notorious mobster, and I’m literally nobody, and if you killed me, nobody would miss me. Good, now that’s out of the table, why do you want to marry me? And what does it mean you are in need of a wife? I mean… you are notorious for dating a different girl every week, can’t you just marry one of them if you’re in such a great hurry?” 

“No, honey, I can’t. All you need to know right now is my proposal. So, here it is. You will marry me, we will stay married for a year and then get a divorce. You will have everything every girl ever wanted: loads of clothes, all the time in the world to do whatever the fuck you want, you won’t have to work, and I will pay for everything and more. You will live here so you won’t have to worry about your rent money, and I will also pay your student loan, on top of which you will be paid 20.000$ every month for playing your role. And when the year is over, you will walk away rich, without any debts slowing you down and you will be able to do anything you want. How does that sound?” 

“It sounds like it’s not a proposal but a directive,” you smiled sweetly and stood up, pacing the room and scratching your hands like crazy. This was not happening, no, no, no!

You needed the money, you really did, and getting rid of the debt from your student loan that would have been sweet too, but at what price? On the other hand, you thought, how bad could it be to just be somebody’s wife for a year? He did make it sound pretty easy. 

“What would be expected of me?” 

“Well, you would go with me to every event and pretty much listen to everything I say,” he shrugged as if it was the most natural thing to say to another human being. 

“Like, you’d ask me to spread my legs for you here, and I would do it?” You asked, suddenly very angry that the man just assumed what kind of a person you were. You were desperate, but not that desperate. 

“Oh, no, honey. That is one of the reasons why I chose you: I’m not attracted to you, so no, I wouldn’t ask you for any sexual favours. We could even put that to our contract if you’d feel better, but, really, you have nothing to worry from me,” he again said with ease, and you didn’t know if you were glad he just told you this or really pissed and ashamed.

Not that you thought you were some kind of a beauty, far from it, but he also didn’t have to be so upfront about it. And now you understood it even less why the hell he chose you.

“Just, wait a second,” you said, your brows knitting together as you tried to piece together all the information the man in front of you had just given you. He was gorgeous, there was no question about that, but that wasn’t the issue here. There were many gorgeous people in New York, and you didn’t marry any of them. Yet, that was. 

“You want to marry me. But you still haven’t told me why, so?” You asked for like the hundredth time that evening, and the man just smirked again, playing with his cuffs, never answering to your satisfaction. 

“Honey, what I want, I get, and I decided that I wanted you, so, what is going to be? Are you gonna be a good girl for me or am I gonna have to force you, hm?” He smiled sweetly, but even you knew better. Behind that oh-very-sweet smile, there was venom and a ton of it. You rubbed your temples and plopped down on the nice-looking couch, thinking about what he was proposing.

“Then why choosing me if you don’t find me attractive? Not that it’s an issue, I’m just really trying to understand the situation here,” you said, totally ignoring the threat in his voice as you needed some much valuable answers. 

“Right, well, first of all, as I already mentioned, what I want, I get, honey, and you should always remember that. Secondly, it was your ability to keep a straight face, even though I can see the ability is not endless. I need somebody who will be sickly sweet to both my friends and enemies alike, who won’t mind a few sleazy comments from the old fuckers, and who will look like an obedient wife. I need somebody who will blend in and who will look trustworthy, and not like she was to stay only for a week. And when I saw you in that pub where you used to work, I could see you had what it took to be in this life, even if only for a year,” he finished, and you were glad you were right at least about the guy, Steve, also sending the people to sniff around your workplace. But then it hit you. 

“Where I used to work? I still work there,” you said dumbfounded, and Steve chuckled humorously. 

“Oh no, you don’t. You see, I need my wife free all the time and I need her here with me. Look, Y/N, this is getting tiring, and I really need an answer now. What is it gonna be, huh?”

“Like I even have a choice. You just said you would use force if I said no, so, what am I supposed to say, huh? I don’t want to get married, but I don’t have any money and your snoopy ass is getting in the way of my life, and you ended one of my jobs, and before you say you terminated my contract in the gallery, please think about it again. That job is very important to me, it has always been my dream to be in a gallery surrounded by beautiful art, and, by chance, having my art there as well. 

I don’t know Steve, your offer is very generous, it really is, but I don’t think I’m the right one,” you sighed finally and looked around the room, ignoring the boring looks from Steve. Then you saw the clock and you almost panicked, it was two minutes before 9. 

“Oh my God, I need to call my friends, or they’re gonna call the cops,” you said quickly already dialling Caroline’s number. You told her you were fine and that no, you weren’t a personal slave yet, but that you’d tell them everything when you got home. When the call ended, the venom was back in Steve’s eyes. 

“If you think you can talk to people about anything I have just said, you are terribly wrong, doll,” he seethed, and you were taken aback, but you didn’t want him to think he intimidated you.

“Well, if you think I’m not gonna tell my family about this, then it’s you who is terribly wrong, Steve. We tell each other everything, and if I considered this proposal of yours, it would mean Aidan and Caroline would know about this, at least that I’m marrying you for more than my undying love for you,” you spat back, and Steve saw the determination in your eyes. He knew he had to compromise with you, even if only a little bit. 

He already found out everything about you, he knew your whole life, your past, everything his people could find on the internet. And what he got from the search was that you and the people you lived with were extremely close. He considered getting rid of them but realised it would only push you away from what he needed from you. And he needed a wife ASAP. 

The mafia was still very conservative, and as he was the only boss without a constant woman by his side, he was sometimes excluded from important meetings that happened on “family retreats.” And he needed all the info there was if he wanted to be the best of the best. Or, the worst of the worst, if we were being literal. 

“Fine, but they will need to sign a contract saying that they will keep their mouths shut,” Steve smiled back, and you nodded, your head already spinning. 

Were you really considering it? But was there any other option? You needed the money, and it would’ve be great if you didn’t have to care about your student loan for the rest of your life. You would see the world, just like you wanted, you would have time for your art, and you would be free after only a year. That didn’t sound that bad. Sure, you’d be affiliated with a known mafia boss, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle. But there was still a question Steve didn’t answer. 

“What about my job at the gallery? If you made them fire me and I’m gonna find out tomorrow, I can’t even begin to consider this. I want that job, I want to work at that gallery, Steve.” 

“Fucking hell, I could buy you the gallery if you agreed!” He shouted, exasperated that it was taking so long. He really didn’t get it. He was proposing a life in luxury, and he knew that the majority of women in New York would be more than happy to be seen by his side. But you? You had to be difficult and even demand stuff. Fucking hell…

“But whatever, you wanna work there, fine. Whatever, I don’t give a fuck. Do we have a deal or not? I have better things to do with my evening than just bargain with you, honey,” he accentuated the pet name that you already hated.

Well, this wasn’t how you imagined your proposal to go. Not that you were too keen on the whole idea of a marriage, but still, a girl could dream. Yet, here you were, actually considering getting tied up with a mobster for a year just because he offered you enough money and a life that you felt like could be interesting, if only for a year and with a man who blatantly told you he wasn’t interested in you in that way. This was the only reason you didn’t feel as dirty as you expected because you knew he would never touch you and never want you to do something sexual against your will. 

You were used to lying through your teeth ever since you were little, your parents made sure you knew how important it was to keep your secret, and dangerous life wasn’t something you only heard of on TV. All this made the decision slightly easier, as you finally made up your mind. 

“Fine, but we still have a lot to talk about, Mr Rogers,” you set your jaw and outstretched your hand to shake on it with him. 

“Whatever, Mrs Rogers. Consider your rent paid and I’ll see you on Friday when we discuss our matter in greater detail. Now, if you excuse me,” he kissed the top of your hand and walked away. 

Well, this would be fun, you told yourself as you watched the man you would soon call your husband walk away from you, and contemplated whether you made the right choice. But your life wasn’t great as was, as much as you tried to fill it with laughter and happiness, and, in a sense, Steve offered you an out, even if only for a little bit. 

Here was to nothing, you hollered at yourself in your mind and followed one of the turtleneck-guys out of the manor and into the chilly air of evening New York.

/ Next Chapter >

Tags will be in reblogs. Taglist for this series is open, all you have to do is send an ask or a message to me :) x Thank you for reading!

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

I'm so excited to read everything for Summer of Love ✨ could i request prompt 37 + 53 with Tom? Maybe friends to lovers 👀

YES I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THE VEGAS REQUEST I AM SO EXCITED

Okay no more screaming but I seriously hope you like it! This is one of my favorite prompts so I was super excited to get to do it 🥰🥰 Anyways, thanks for sending it in, feedback, as always, is appreciated and encouraged. Love you so so much xx

Drive Thru Wedding

37 - Getting drunk and getting married in Vegas

53 - "We are not platonic, and my feelings are never going to be platonic."

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: light angst

Summary: You had a drive thru wedding with your best friend

Masterlist

Taglist

Summer of Love

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Tom sat up, groaning and rubbing his eyes as light streamed into the hotel room. The room slowly came into focus and he spotted (y/n) passed out on his bed. He knit his brow and padded towards the window, pulling the blinds closed to try and dull his throbbing head. He made his way to the bathroom, wincing as he turned on the light. He splashed water on his face before realizing he was still in the same clothes he’d put on the night before. With a heavy sigh he returned to the bedroom and peaked at his phone. Calls and texts from his family and Harrison, nothing unusual outside of the fact that it was nearly noon.

“Shit,” he swore, glancing back over at (y/n), “Darling wake up,” he set a hand on her back, shaking her lightly.

She groaned, “Go away.”

“It’s nearly noon, come on, time to get up,” he chuckled.

“Fuck you,” she swore back at him before rolling onto her back, “I feel awful.”

“Yeah, me too,” he sighed, “I barely remember last night.”

“Me either. I hope I didn’t do anything embarrassing…”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” he assured, “We should go get some water, and eat.”

“Good call, but I need to shower first,” she yawned as she finally sat up, “Mind if I use your shower?”

“No, no of course not, I’m just gonna call Haz.”

“Cool, I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take your time,” he waved her off as he punched in his friend's number.

“Ah, he lives,” Harrison teased as he picked up the phone, “How’s (y/n)?”

“Showering, we’re both a bit fucked,” he frowned, “You aren’t in the suite are you?”

“No, we got breakfast and now we’re heading for the mob museum. We were going to wake you guys up but it seemed like you needed the sleep. You want to come meet us here?”

“Maybe, we’ve got to go eat first though,” he sighed, “Dude, what happened last night?”

“We all got really trashed, you and (y/n) were taking shots and you two took the driver and disappeared. We were all too trashed to even notice you were missing until we left though, but you guys were passed out when we got back to the hotel, so we figured you must have just headed back,” he chuckled, “Don’t remember a thing huh?’

“Hardly, I mean I remember being at the club for a while, but I don’t remember leaving…”

“Does she remember anything?”

“No, I don’t think she remembers anymore than I do.”

“That’s good, at least if you, you know, confessed something, she doesn’t remember.”

Tom blushed, “Yeah, that’s a plus…”

It was obvious to Harrison that something was wrong, “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Tom sighed, “I’ve just got this feeling something happened, I just can’t remember what.”

“Hey, I’m sure if you did anything too bad it’d be in the news by now. You probably just threw up or fell or something.”

“Probably, I just hope no one got it on video.”

“I’m sure they didn’t, look I gotta go, our Uber’s here, but let me know if you end up heading our way.”

“Yeah, no problem, I’ll get back to you in a bit.”

Tom rubbed his eyes and dug around his suitcase for some fresh clothes, after finding them he headed across the suite to use a different bathroom. He desperately wanted to clean up and figure out exactly what had occurred the night before. She still looked exhausted when they reunited outside of his room, he was sure he didn’t look any better.

“Everyone went out already huh?”

Tom nodded, “Yeah, they’re at the mob museum right now. They said we can meet up with them if we want, I figure we can see how we feel after we eat.”

“Good idea,” she rubbed her stomach with a sigh, “Do you think a mimose would help or hinder me right now.”

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, “Definitely hinder. I think both of us should be on an alcohol detox today.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she sighed, “Alright, a boring, virgin breakfast it is.”

“Oh you poor thing,” he laughed as they stepped onto the elevator, “It’s just tragic.”

They both opted for something easy on the stomach, simple eggs and fruits, regretting that they didn’t bring sunglasses down from the hotel room. They were both certain they couldn’t make it through a day on the strip, the lights and noise were bound to be too much, which ruled out the possibility of going to meet their friends. Tom still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, it was an unreachable itch in the back of his mind.

“What do you remember from last night?”

“Uh, being at the club, doing some shots,” she tapped her chin, “I don’t know Tom, not much, it’s all kind of blurry really.”

“Same here. I just wonder where we were…”

“I’m sure we just came back here,” she yawned, “I mean you’re pretty high profile, if we were out doing anything crazy I’m sure we would have heard about it by now.”

“Yeah, probably…”

“Mr. Holland?” the waiter approached their table with a smile, “I have something for you from the front desk.”

“Oh, thanks,” he frowned at the manilla envelope placed in front of him, “Uh, who’s this from?”

“Your diver returned it this morning.”

“Thanks,” he repeated as he tore into the envelope, suddenly going wide eyed at its contents, “What the…”

(y/n) frowned and scooted towards him, “I wanna see.”

Before them laid a series of photos of them, clearly taken the night before at the Little White Chapel. (y/n) held a bouquet and Tom held her, his lips pressed to her cheek in one photo and her lips in the next.

“Holy shit,” (y/n)’s jaw nearly hit the floor, “No fucking way…”

“We must have been there for someone else,” Tom tried to explain.

“With a bouquet? Kissing?” (y/n) frowned at him, “Oh my god we eloped in Vegas!”

“Guess you can mark that one off your bucket list,” Tom tried to joke.

“Tom!” she flushed, “This is serious! We need to go somewhere right away and get this annulled!”

“Look even if we did do it, it doesn’t mean it was legally binding, I mean we were drunk, they probably just let us take some pictures to entertain us.”

“God I hope so,” she groaned, “We need to go down there now, get this sorted out right away.”

“I’ll call a driver,” Tom assured, “We’ll sort this out.”

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(y/n) drummed her finger along her arm nervously while the elder lady at the chapel typed away at her computer, checking if anything had been registered under either of their names.

“Oh, yep, here it is,” she smiled to them, “Looks like we did hold a wedding for you two last night.”

“Like a real, legal one?” (y/n) pressed.

She nodded, “Yep, you two are married.”

“W-Well you have to delete it,” she demanded.

“Oh hunny, I can’t do that,” she apologized, “You’ll have to go to the county court to apply for an annulment.”

She groaned and Tom smiled at the lady as he ushered her towards the door, “Thanks for all your help, have a nice day.”

“You’re welcome!” she called after them cheerfully.

“This sucks,” (y/n) pinched her brow as they returned to the car, “I guess we’re going to the county court then.”

“We’ll get this sorted out,” Tom blushed, “I just hope we can stay friends after the divorce.”

She laughed while he gave instructions to the driver, “Depends how big my alimony checks are.”

“Why are you the one that gets alimony checks? What about me huh?”

“Because there’s no way I make more money than you movie star,” she poked his chest, “I’m taking Tessa too.”

“Oh now you’re taking it way too far,” he shook his head, “You can take the kids, and the houses, and the money, but no way you’re taking Tessa.”

“Dick,” she shook her head, “After everything we’ve been through, I can’t even keep the dog?”

“Absolutely not,” he laughed, “That’s my baby, I’ll go to war over her.”

“You used to talk that way about me,” (y/n) rolled her eyes, “See this is exactly why we’re getting this divorce.”

“Maybe we should have tried counseling,” he hummed, “You know I don’t think it would be so bad.”

“A divorce?”

“No, if we were married,” he flushed, “I mean just cause we’re like best friends and everything…”

“Yeah but you don’t marry your best friend,” she laughed, “You marry the love of your life.”

“I know, I know, I’m just saying, you know,” he wrung his hands nervously, embarrassed he’d said anything at all.

“What? That’d we’d be a super hot celebrity power couple? Because that’s totally true,” she smiled, “We’d be the best dressed at every premier.”

“Yeah, we’d be a good power couple…”

“I’m sure you and your eventual wife will also be a power couple,” she squeezed his arm with a big smile, “Well, second wife.”

He nodded and pursed his lips, “Can you believe we kissed?”

She laughed, “Oh yeah, lucky you.”

He was upset he couldn’t remember their first, and possibly only kiss, he always imagined it would be more special. “It’s just weird not remembering any of it.”

“I just don’t even know where we got the idea,” she sighed, “I wonder if we drove by it or something…”

“I don’t know, maybe we just talked about it.”

“Maybe, like we got all drunk and got up in our feels.”

“Probably.”

“Tom, what's wrong?” she frowned at him.

“Nothing, I’m just hungover,” he insisted.

“Alright, well we can go lay down again after we sort this out.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

They were quiet the rest of the drive, with Tom growing more and more anxious as they approached the courthouse. It wasn’t that he wanted to be married, but he wanted some kind of relationship. He wanted to confess that he liked the idea of kissing her and being married to her and all of that, he just couldn’t seem to spit it out.

“Hi,” (y/n) smiled at the woman at the front desk, “This is kind of embarrassing but we got really drunk last night and ended up getting married, we just needed to file for an annulment.”

“Happens all the time,” she nodded, “Just fill this out and we’ll call you back to get this sorted out.”

“Thanks,” she took a clipboard and sat down beside Tom, “Time to start dividing assets.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Tom took the board from her and began scribbling information down.

“Oh come on, I’m not that bad of a wife.”

“Ah, what’s got you in a sour mood Tommy?”

“Nothing,” he insisted, “I’m just trying to get this over with.”

“(y/n).”

“Fine, fine, I’ll just sit here,” she sighed, “Guess we aren’t getting divorce ice cream after this huh?”

Tom said nothing.

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Tom continued to be quiet as they signed papers and drove back to the hotel, all (y/n) could get with her were one word responses. She wasn’t sure what had changed and made him so upset. She was worried he’d gotten a message from his managers or something.

“Tom come on, you can tell me what’s going on,” she begged, “I know you're upset.”

“It’s nothing okay? I keep telling you I’m fine.”

“But you aren’t, I know you aren’t, and I’m just trying to help, you know you can tell me anything.”

He pinched his nose, “I can’t tell you about this.”

“Of course you can,” she set her hand on his back with a frown, “You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know, today was just stressful.”

“I’m sure no one saw anything, somebody would have contacted you already.”

“Not about that,” he sighed.

“Okay, what about then?”

“What if I didn’t want to get the annulment?”

She wrinkled her brow in confusion, “Why wouldn’t you?”

“Because it’s you,” he blushed.

“You want us to have some kind of platonic marriage?” she laughed.

Without a word he cupped her face, pressing his lips to hers for a bruising kiss, “We are not platonic, and my feelings are never going to be platonic.”

Her whole face flushed and her jaw hung open in shock, “You’re into me?”

“I’m completely crazy about you,” he nodded.

“S-So you want to marry me?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “Not right now at least. But I don’t want to throw away any chance of us being together.”

“Tom annulling our drunk Vegas wedding isn’t the same as throwing away any chance of us being together,” she bit her cheek, “I mean I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m into you.”

His cheeks flushed bright red, “Really?”

She nodded, “Obviously dummy, I don’t think I would have married you if I didn’t.”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, “So it would be cool if I wanted to take you on a date?”

“Very cool,” she nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, “But maybe this time we can wait a little longer for the proposal.”

“Yeah well a Vegas drive thru was never exactly my dream wedding anyway,” he squeezed her waist and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Maybe we should go somewhere without alcohol though, just to be safe.”

“Considering my head’s still throbbing, I actually think I’m good on drinking for the rest of the year,” she got on her tiptoes, giving Tom another quick kiss.

“Speaking of which, how would you like to come take a hangover nap with me, girlfriend.”

“Sounds like a lovely use of our time, boyfriend.”

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