#YOU ARE LITERALLY THE ONE WHO SUGGESTED IT

[mariasont]

hey girlie, first of all absolutely adore all of your hotchie fics no one writes him as well as you do!! second of all i am dying to read bimbo!assistant! x hotch smuuuutt (only if ur comfortable, pls ignore if not!!) i feel like that would be the only time hotch would have her completely and utterly speechless (idk why but i literally cannot get hotch w a breeding kink out of my goddamn mind!!!!!!) anyways hope ur having a fab day, and thank u for feeding us over the last few days 😘

Space Between Distraction & Indulgence - A.H

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader want’s aaron’s attention. aaron wants to finish his case notes. too bad for him, you always get what you want

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit stuff going on here, fingering, p in v, no condom (bc we trust hotch is responsible but you shouldn’t be), dirty talk, hotch is a boob man sorry not sorry, after care with a side of psychoanalysis bc he can’t help himself

wc: 6k (got a little carried away my b)

a/n: thank u sm for requesting ugh!!!! u all r going to give me a god complex if you keep talking about how i write hotch LOLOL i love u sm hope u like the fic!!

Saturdays with Aaron had a way of making time feel like something slippery and golden, something you could almost touch before it vanished between your fingers. The mornings stretched long and languid, a lazy kind of indulgence that should have felt endless, but somehow, with him, it never was.

You woke up late. Very late. The kind of late that made you blink at the clock in mild disbelief before flopping back against the pillows. And then there was the warmth. Not just the heat of the blankets, but something deeper, something winding low in your belly.

Oh. Right. The dream. You swallowed, biting your lip as if that might make the memory dissipate. It wasn't outright filthy, but it had been suggestive enough. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing. It was the kind of thing that made you wish Aaron was still in bed.

He wasn't, of course. That would require Aaron Hotchner to do something reckless and irresponsible, like relax. If he wasn't keeping the country from total collapse, he was finding something equally as urgent to fix, probably buried in reports right now, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the page like national security depended on it. And maybe it did. You didn't know.

What you did know was that you'd been circling him all afternoon, orbiting like some needy little planet trapped in his gravitational pull, and he still hadn't acknowledged you. A small part of you—one you didn't want to name—had hoped he'd notice you by now. That he'd glance up, see you, reach for you. But he hadn't. And that was okay. Really. You weren't needy. You weren't desperate.

But you noticed him. You always noticed him. And this version of him, the weekend version, was particularly hard to ignore. The casual clothes, casual for him, anyway, stomped all over your ability to think straight (not that you had much to concentrate on in the first place).

The grey crewneck he had on stretched across his shoulders, molding to the shape of him like it had been made for him. His jeans, worn in all the right places, settled on his hips in a way that made you feel like a pervert just by looking.

Even his hair had you practically drooling. Not messy, of course—Aaron Hotchner didn't do messy—but it was softer than usual, a little mussed, like he'd dragged his fingers through it one too many times without bothering to fix it.

It made him look almost touchable, like someone who should have been stretched out next to you on the couch, letting you mess it up even more, not hunched over a pile of paperwork like the case files were going to disappear if he blinked.

His forearms flexed every time he turned a page, his muscles shifting subtly every time he moved. You didn't even realize how blatantly you were staring until his fingers skimmed up to his jaw, scratching absently at the stubble there. Because now all you could think about was how it would feel under your fingertips, under your lips, under—okay. Enough.

The magazine in your lap was technically open, fingers flipping through glossy pages filled with designer gowns and scandalous headlines. Normally, you'd be all over it, sipping coffee as you devoured the who wore what and who was caught with who. But today, you weren't really reading, you were just holding it, turning pages for the sake of it. Something to occupy your hands while you definitely didn't stare at Aaron.

He had started keeping these around after you mentioned, offhandedly, how much you loved them. You hadn't even meant it as a suggestion, but the next time you visited, there it was—sitting on the coffee table like it had always been there.

He hadn't spared you so much as a glance since you walked in—not even when you'd practically drifted past his desk, close enough that he should've felt you there. He had mumbled a good morning, sure, but his eyes never left the page, his attention locked onto whatever was in that file.

You sigh—loudly. Pointedly. The kind of exaggerated little huff that normally earns you at least a glance, maybe even a what's the matter, sweetheart?  There was no reaction today. He just flipped another page, one hand smoothing over the text, the other tapping against the desk like you were completely invisible.

You toss the magazine onto the table—just a little too hard. Then you stretch out on the couch, shifting just enough that his button-down rides up, baring more of your thighs than should be considered decent. The air against your skin makes you hyperaware of what isn't there—only your favorite panties. The tiniest scrap of fabric between you and absolute obscenity. If he so much as glanced in your direction, he'd have the perfect view. But he doesn't.

You sigh again, softer this time, just enough to sound absentminded, like you're not trying to get his attention (even though you absolutely are). As you push yourself off the couch, you stretch a little, giving yourself an extra moment to watch him. You make your way toward him, steps slow, letting the hem of his shirt brush against the tops of your thighs as you move. His fingers flex against the page.

You settle against the edge of his desk, bracing yourself on your elbows, making a very intentional point of pressing your tits together. It's the kind of thing that should be subtle—just a natural consequence of your posture.

Months of Aaron have taught you more than just the way he takes his coffee or how he organizes his files. You've studied him—memorized him even. And one thing has become crystal clear:

He's absolutely a boob man.

You realized it gradually—the subtle stiffening of his posture whenever you leaned a little too close in the office, the way his fingers flexed when your blouse had just a bit too much give.

Then, when you started dating, it became even clearer. His hands never just grabbed—they claimed, like he was making up for all the times he couldn't touch.

His voice would go low, reverent, when he murmured, so pretty, sweetheart, his thumb brushing over your skin like he needed to feel it. And your bras—he had thoughts about those, much to your surprise. Which ones were his favorite. Which ones he hated because they got in the way.

But it wasn't until months later—when he had you spread out beneath him, his mouth hot and urgent against your skin—that he admitted it. His voice was rough, breathless, his grip tightening as he groaned, been trying so fucking hard not to look at these for years. And then, just to prove it, his mouth sealed over you like he had years to make up for.

"Do you need anything? Water? Coffee? Maybe lunch?"

His eyes lift—quick, practiced, almost indifferent.

Almost.

Because before they settle back down, they pause, just for a fraction of a second, right there. Right at the collar of his button-down, where the top buttons are hanging loose, where your skin is warm and soft and practically begging for attention.

But then, before you can revel in it, he's already looking back down. "No, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, actually contemplating throwing his stupid case file out the window. He's either knows what you're trying to accomplish and ignoring you on purpose or he's just that focused. You weren't sure which was worse.

You shove off the desk, but you don't step away. Instead, you step closer. Your hands find his shoulders first, sliding down to his chest as you lean into him, pressing against his back. The shift is immediate. He goes still, his spine going ramrod straight, like his brain has just caught up to what's happening.

Your shirt is paper-thin, your nipples are pressed right against him, and unless he's suddenly gone completely numb, he feels it.

You sink against him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. Gods, he smells good. Clean, sharp, like something expensive.

You recognized it as the cologne you bought him. The one you picked, the one you dabbed on his wrist in the middle of a department store and grinned, telling him, This. This smells like you. This is the one.

Your fingers skim over his collar, your nails just barely catching against the heat of his skin.

"What are you working on?" You let the question drip from your lips, your voice all honey, sweet, but not innocent.

Aaron hums low in his throat. "Case notes."

"That's boring. Is there anything I can do to help? Your assistant is very willing to be of service."

His fingers pause and your stomach flips. But then, before you can savor it, he moves. His hand finds yours, slow, gentle, lifting it with patience. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, featherlight, frustratingly chaste, before setting your hand back down like you're some good little thing that's been successfully pacified. And then you catch it, the tiniest twitch of his lips.

"Thank you, honey, but I've got it under control."

You make a noise, half scoff, half petulant whine, and shift your chin against his shoulder, angling yourself just enough to shoot him a pointed glare. "You always say that. What's the point of having such a capable assistant if you're not going to use her?"

"Hmm. So that's what you want? For me to use you?"

"I don't know. Is that an option?"

Aaron's laugh is low, the kind that rumbles through his chest without much warning. It's never loud—it doesn't have to be—but it still manages to send your stomach into a ridiculous free-fall.

"There's just some stuff I need to finish up."

You groan, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder, arms squeezing around him like you can physically hold his attention. Like you can will it away from the pages in front of him and back to you where it belongs.

"Is that your way of telling me I just have to sit here and be patient?"

Aaron's pen doesn't pause. "Mhm."

You huff. "And you think I'll be able to do that?"

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"You've survived this long," he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you'll manage."

"Fine," you say after a moment, stepping around the chair before sinking into his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he doesn't. He never does.

You shift until you're settled, one leg draped over his, chest brushing his. His breath stutters—just a little, just enough to tell you that he feels you. His fingers flex against the desk, pressing harder into the wood, tension rolling through his back as he goes perfectly still beneath you, like he's waiting to see what you'll do next.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you hum, arms draping easily over his shoulders as you sink against him. Your cheek brushes his, lips just close enough that if he turned his head, just a little, you'd be right there. "You said you had to finish working. Don't let me stop you."

A slow inhale, a slight tilt of his head, then—his pen moves again, like nothing's changed. Like you haven't changed anything. You exhale against his skin, hiding your smirk in the crook of his neck, fingers idly tracing slow, featherlight circles along the nape of it. He's humoring you, and that's fine.

You let him pretend for a while, content to exist in the space between distraction and indulgence. You shift in his lap, weight pressing into his just enough.

His body reacts before he does, muscles tightening, his breath slowing like he's thinking too hard about not reacting.

"Sit still."

"I am still," you reply, the words light on your tongue, but the slow curve of your hips tells another story.

"Sweetheart."

You lean in, close enough that your noses brush, your forehead pressing to his as your lips part ever so slightly. "What? I'm not doing anything."

Aaron's breath comes out sharp, ragged, the sound scraping its way from his throat like he's been holding onto it for too long. His chest pushes against yours, every inhale pressing you closer, every exhale heating the space between you. He leans back, just enough to create the smallest sliver of distance.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, savoring the friction that sends a shudder through you, tightening every muscle in your body with anticipation. The feeling sparks through you, sharp and intoxicating, sending heat pooling in your stomach. His reaction was subtle, the shift of his jaw, his hand brushing against the desk, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you yet.

His gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to where your bodies fit together, the rise and fall of your breath syncing with his.

His hands land on your hips, thumbs pressing in, not enough to stop you, just enough to remind you he could if he wanted to. When his eyes meet yours again, there's no rush, no immediate reaction. You knew exactly what it meant and what usually followed, he was just waiting for the moment you tip the scales too far.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly it is you're trying to do?" he asks, his voice low, the kind of tone that makes you forget your own name for a second.

You push against him again, grinding just enough to feel the press of him, the heat of him, and god. His fingers dig in—tight—like he's trying to stop you, but you don't miss the way his breath catches, the way his grip falters for half a second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and suddenly, you can't remember what your original plan was.

You shift forward, your body molding to his, your breath fanning against his skin as your lips brush his ear. Your teeth scrape, light, but not accidental.

"I'm just feel a little... overlooked." Your fingers tighten where they rest, nails digging in just enough to make sure he feels it. "Is it so bad that I want your attention?"

His grip tightens, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips with a kind of warning you'd be stupid to ignore. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, scorching into your skin like a brand.

"You have my attention." You don't believe him. Not really. You press your lips into a pout, brow furrowing just slightly. "But if you keep moving like that, I might now be so nice about it."

Your hips shift, an instinctive little squirm, testing to see if you can push past his hold. You can't. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" he repeats, almost thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over in his mind. "I think you can. You just don't want to."

You want to argue, you really do, but nothing comes out, only a sharp inhale that never quite makes it into words. Because he's right. He knows he's right.

The little noise that escapes your throat is purely instinctual, frustrated but breathy, like your body is already conceding before your mind catches up.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs, but the way it sinks into you, the way it wraps around your ribs like something stretched too tight, tells you exactly what kind of trouble you're in.

He mirrors you, crowding in, his breath skimming your ear. His palm presses into the small of your back, slotting you back into place. "But you don't listen, do you?"

You shake your head without even meaning to, the deafening roar of your pulse making it impossible to think clearly.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, turning darker, more intimate. His hands flex as if to remind you of the control he holds. Then his lips graze your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin. "You push. You test the boundaries. And then you pretend to be shocked when I hold you to them."

His fingers slide down, dragging over your thigh with an almost excruciating slowness. He pauses to squeeze there.

"First, you sprawled out on the couch—" his thumb sweeps over your skin, "like you didn't know exactly how that would look."

Your breath stutters, catches, knots itself into something tangled and messy as his hand moves, sliding higher, pressing firmer, stopping just shy of where the ache blooms.

His eyes darken, the heat behind them smoldering with something deep, something that settles like fire in the pit of your stomach.

"Then you leaned over my desk, practically shoving these—" His hand moves before the words fully land, cupping the curve of your breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple. "—right in my face."

Your breath catches, your hips lifting, your thighs parting like you're meant to be touched. Like you need him there. But he doesn't give in. He just moves lower, slow and taunting, until his palm covers the heat between your legs, pressing lightly over the thin fabric of your panties.

His fingers flex, testing. Feeling.

"And now this," he murmurs, and gods, his voice, his voice, is like a razor wrapped in velvet, smooth and cutting all at once. "You squirm and pout like you don't know exactly what you're doing. But I know better, don't I?"

The words settle in your spine, and suddenly, you don't feel like you know what you're doing. Like you're the one pulling at a thread you don't quite understand, but it's already too late to stop. A shiver rolls through you, bone-deep, leaving your muscles lax, your body melting into his like you were always meant to be here.

"I'm sorry," you murmur so quietly, you're not even sure if he hears it. "I just... I wanted you to notice me."

Aaron's hum is low, deep, almost amused. His thumb finds your jaw, sweeping along the curve of it as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I noticed you. I always notice you. In fact, you're all I ever notice." His hand slips away from where you want it most. "But if this is the only way you know how to ask for my attention, sweetheart, then I think we have a problem."

Your grip on his shirt is useless, you're clinging to him, to anything, but he's the one in control. His hands settle on your hips, demanding, guiding you over the hard line of his cock, forcing you to take the friction, to feel every inch of him through the layers still between you.

The friction is blinding, sending heat licking up your spine, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Your legs tremble, a sharp, choked sound escaping before you can stop it, and you clutch at his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle as pleasure coils tight and insistent in your belly.

"Aaron," his name slips from your lips, high and uneven, like it costs something to say it. Your head bows, forehead pressing into his shoulder, hands trembling against his chest. "I wasn't trying to be bad. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"No, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You didn't think, did you? And now look where that's gotten you."

His words should sting, but they don't, not when his hands are so gentle, smoothing down your spine like he's soothing something raw inside you. And then his voice, warm and promising, settles over you, "But I'll take care of you now."

And gods, you need him to. He's so hard, the thick length of him pressing against you through denim and cotton, teasing, tormenting. Everything burns—your skin, your stomach, that deep, pulsing ache between your thighs. Your head swims, feverish, your mind caught between more and please and I can't take this. But he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to keep going, you'll take care of it. Go ahead."

Your hands move with the kind of urgency that betrays just how badly you need this, need him. Your fingers trail down, brushing over the tight muscles of his stomach, and it's almost enough to make you dizzy, just touching him, just knowing what's waiting for you beneath layers of fabric.

The button of his jeans fumbles beneath your fingers before finally popping open. And then you're pulling him free. He's thick in your hand, burning hot against your palm, and something about that, about feeling him like this, for you, makes something feral sink its teeth into you.

And then he finds you.

His fingers slip under your panties, gliding through the obscene slickness there, and you don't mean to react so violently, don't mean to moan so loud, but it rips out of you before you can stop it.

"Oh, honey," Aaron murmurs, almost thoughtful, like he's just now realizing the full extent of your undoing. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this worked up."

Like it's an observation. Like it's fascinating.

His fingers push, stretching you open, teasing just the right spot, and you jerk against him with a sharp, strangled moan. Your grip around him tightens, your strokes turning sloppy, uneven, desperate.

"Aaron—" His name tumbles out high and needy, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

"I didn't mean to—" Your voice shakes, a hitched little gasp tangled between syllables. "I just—" Your breath stutters, heat climbing, overwhelming. "I didn't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do." His fingers slow just enough to let you catch his breath as he murmurs. "You just have to let me take over. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Your nod is frantic, almost mindless, as his words echo in your ears.

"Please." It falls from your lips like a confession, like you'd say anything if it means he'll give you what you want.

His fingers thrust deeper, and the shock of it rips a gasp from your lips, straight into his kiss. It's messy, frantic, all clashing mouths and stolen air, your breaths coming too fast to match his, like you're afraid if you let him go for even a second, he'll pull away.

Your grip on him tightens without thinking, your fingers flexing around his cock, but the sensation barely registers now, drowned out by the wetness pooling between your thighs, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls.

You can't keep up. You're chasing something that feels just out of reach, your hands leaving his cock, fumbling for something solid, something real. They find his face, fingertips brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw, trying to find yourself in him, in the way he's ruining you.

You kiss him like you can tell him everything that way, like he might understand the ache better through lips and tongues and the way your body trembles under his hands.

And then—he stops. His fingers slip free, and the sound you make is a whine, a protest, your hips tilting, seeking, trying to drag him back in. But he doesn't move, doesn't give you what you need, just smirks against your lips like he enjoys watching you squirm.

"You're so impatient," he murmurs against your lips.

But before you can protest, before you can tell him that yes, yes, you am impatient, please just give it to me, his hands tighten on your hips. And then—oh.

He lifts you, positioning you just right, and then, lowers you down.

The head of his cock pushes inside, and your breath catches, lips parting in a broken gasp. The stretch is devastating, inch by inch forcing your body to open, to yield to him. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and for a second, you forget how to breathe, how to think, your only thought being how does he even fit?

It feels endless, your thighs shaking against his as he takes his time, forcing you to feel every slow, torturous inch. Your body clenches around him, your nails dragging over his scalp as you bury your face against his neck.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice thick, lips grazing your temple. "That's it. Let me take care of you. You just have to let me in, sweetheart."

"Okay, okay," you whisper, voice shaky as you bury your face against his neck, arms wrapping tighter around him.

His other hand moves, dragging up your spine before wrapping around your waist. And then—he presses deeper.

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, punched-out gasp. He doesn't stop, doesn't let you breathe, just sinks in, stretching you open until he's fully seated inside you. Until there's nowhere left to go.

"That's it," he groans, voice tight, his mouth ghosting along your jaw. "So tight. So warm. Fuck, sweetheart, you know this is what you were made for, don't you?"

You try to think of something, something teasing, something bratty, something that might tip him over the edge, but your body betrays you, trembling around him, squeezing down so tight you feel him shudder.

"God, you're tight," he mutters, his fingers pressing into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. "I can feel every little tremble, every squeeze. You feel that, sweetheart? How perfectly you fit around me?"

"It's like you don't want to let me go. Is that what you want, honey? To keep me right here?"

Your body clenches down instinctively, like you're answering him without meaning to, and his breath catches for just a second before his lips curve against your skin. You nod, frantic, a little dazed, a little wrecked, and his chuckle is pure sin.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back just enough to create the kind of unbearable friction that makes your breath catch, your body tightening like a bowstring.

"Every little sound you make drives me insane." His breath drags over your cheek, his lips just shy of touching, like he's teasing himself as much as he is you. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

You try to answer, you really do, but your lungs don't work properly anymore, your body focused on the pleasure threatening to snap at any second. Your fingertips tremble against his shoulders, your thighs quiver, and Aaron knows exactly what that means.

"That's it. I can feel you trembling, sweetheart. You're so close, aren't you?"

His words strike something deep, something primal, and the fire curling between your thighs roars in response. Your head tips back, your breath breaking apart as your hands scramble for purchase, fingers sliding to his face, thumbs brushing over the roughness of his jaw. You pull him into a kiss that's all hunger, all desperation, your lips parting to let him devour you.

He groans into your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your chest, and then his hips snap up into you. The stretch is suffocating, the sheer fullness of him sending sharp pulses of pleasure up your body with every deep thrust.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "You don't have to hold back. Just let go for me, sweetheart."

It crashes into you harder than you expected, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. Your moan catches halfway, tumbling out in pieces as your body convulses, clenches tight, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

He thrusts deep, brutal, final, and then he's gone, his head dropping back as a groan tears from his chest.

He fills you in thick, pulsing waves, each pulse making your thighs tighten around him, making you gasp at how deep it settles. The feeling is overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight, the way his cock still twitches inside you, like he’s unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

You're not sure where your body ends and his begins, your limbs heavy, useless, boneless as you slump against him. Your breath stutters, still uneven, every exhale pushing against his chest as the last waves of pleasure roll through you.

"You take every drop so fucking well," he murmurs. "Meant to keep you full."

His fingers press into your hips, just a little tighter, just enough to make you feel how deep he still is.

"Don’t move yet."

Your breath stutters, the words landing deep, something fluttering tight in your stomach.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, his hands absently smoothing up and down your spine. His voice drops, lower, rougher—

"I want to make sure it sticks."

You shudder, pressing closer, your face tucking against his neck as everything—the fullness, every drop of his cum—settles in.

Aaron exhales, his chest rising beneath you, and suddenly, he shifts. His grip on your hips soften and slide up, like he can feel the way you're trembling against him. 

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

You try, you really do, but when you inhale, it's a stuttering, gasping thing, barely controlled. Your thighs still shake, your body still throbs around him, and you can feel the way he exhales, like he enjoys this—enjoys feeling you like this, soft and trembling in his arms.

"Easy," he murmurs. One hand slides up your spine, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. "That was a lot."

You nod—or, at least, you think you do. Everything feels floaty, light, warm. Your head feels like it's filled with pink clouds. Your limbs feel soft, useless, like you're some well-loved doll that's been played with for hours.

He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze.

"You okay?" His brow furrows slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You blink slowly at him, lips parting, trying to focus.

"Mhm," you hum, then pause, frowning just slightly. "Wait, no—hold on."

His jaw tenses immediately, but you reach up, poking his cheek with a weak, clumsy finger.

"You didn't kiss me," you mumble, like it's the most important fact in the universe. "You're supposed to kiss me after, 'cause, like, you love me and all that."

Hotch lets out a slow breath, like he's holding something back. His head tilts, just barely shaking, like he's in mild disbelief of you. And okay, fine, maybe you do say a lot of dumb things. But this wasn't dumb. It was valid. It was scientifically proven that post-sex cuddles should include at least one (1) I love you and one (1) kiss, and you were simply holding him accountable.

"Of course I love you," he murmurs, like the answer is so obvious, so unquestionable, that it almost makes you feel silly for asking. And then he kisses you.

It's deep, drawn-out, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are. 

You're still in his lap, still tangled in the ridiculous, oversized leather chair, but you don't feel like you're anywhere. Not in his apartment, not even in your own body. Just floating, existing in between his lips and yours.

When you finally pull back, it's not even voluntary—just the sad, unfortunate reality of needing air.

"Wow," you murmur, your fingers lazily brushing over his jaw.

"Wow?"

"Mhm." Your tongue darts out, sweeping over the kiss-swollen curve of your bottom lip, like you're trying to catch what's left of him there, trying to savor it. "Like... I feel very wow."

A smirk tugs at his lips, but his hands don't stop moving, don't stop tracing, don't stop feeling. His fingers smoothed absently over your hips, up your spine, his palms blending into your skin. Like he's checking for something. Like he's making sure you're here with him.

And for a second, you think he's about to kiss you again. He looks like he wants to, his gaze flickers to your lips, his hands flex just slightly, his body leans in just a hair. But then his gaze flickers, his lips part slightly as if he'd just remembered something.

"You said something earlier."

You blink again, brain lagging behind slightly as reality creeps back in, still floating somewhere in bliss. Which you felt was a more pressing topic than whatever he's about to say.

Your face scrunches up immediately, like maybe if you look cute enough, he'd drop it. 

"I said a lot of things earlier," you rush out, voice a little too high, a little too hasty, your hand flapping vaguely in the air. "So many things. A real stream of nonsense, actually. I was just saying words, you know, as one does—"

You shift slightly, suddenly painfully aware of the position you're in, and he doesn't even blink.

"Aaron," you say, narrowing your eyes. "You're literally still inside me and you want to have a conversation right now?"

"Yes," he says simply, like of course he does, like this is completely reasonable, like you aren't still wrapped around him, skin warm and sticky from what you just did.

His brows furrow slightly, and his head tilts in that very specific way that means he's already pulling apart the words, unraveling them like a thread, and working through them with that brain of his before you can even begin to take it back. 

"You said you felt overlooked," he states plainly, like a fact, which you guessed it was. "If that was something you just said in the moment, we can drop it."

His eyes narrow, studying you like he already knows the answer. "But if you meant it, then I want to understand why."

Your mouth parts, ready to push out something easy, something light, something that won't lead to the very real, very terrifying act of actually admitting things.

He was serious. Not angry or annoyed. Just serious. And concerned.

You exhale, suddenly very invested in dragging your nails lightly over his chest, watching the way they disappear into the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles shift slightly beneath your touch.

"I mean... it's not a thing," you mumble, barely glancing up. "More like a thing-adjacent."

"Sweetheart." The firmness in his voice made your stomach flip. It's not a scolding or a warning, just his way of making you hear him. "I'm not interested in whether you think it's a thing or not. I'm interested in whether it's true."

"I mean, I guess... maybe a little."

His fingers flex, like he's taking that in. He nods once, slowly. "That makes sense."

Your brows furrow. "It does?"

"Yes," he states plainly, like it's obvious. "You pick up on subtle changes—even the ones I don't intend to project. And when I get hyper focused on something, I shut everything else out. Not just you. Everyone."

"It's a defense mechanism. A way to compartmentalize. It doesn't mean I don't notice you. It means my brain assigns the highest level of urgency to the task at hand, and everything else—everything outside of that—is temporarily shut out."

"When I do that, it makes sense that you would feel like I'm not paying attention to you," he continues. "Because in those moments I'm not."

Your breath catches. He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it almost doesn't sting at first, it just lands.

His grip tightens ever so slightly where his hands rest on your like he already knows how you're taking it.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to be paying attention," he murmurs, fingers brushing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. "It doesn't mean you don't exist in the back of my mind, even when I'm caught up in something else."

Aaron leans in a fraction, his eyes holding yours.

"Do you know what I did last night after you fell asleep?" he asks.

You blink. "Uh... sleep?"

He smirks. "Eventually. But first, I checked the thermostat. You always get cold at night, even when you say you won't."

Your face warms. "That's just—,"

"And before I left for work last week, I moved your car closer to the building because I saw you left your umbrella at my place."

"I—,"

"And when I'm out of town, do you know what I do every morning?"

You swallow.

"No."

"I think about what you're having for breakfast," he murmurs. "Not consciously. It's not something I try to do. It just... happens."

"You always eat something sweet," he continues, his thumb brushing over your jaw. "It's usually a pastry or something covered in chocolate. Sometimes cake, if we're being honest."

Your scrunch your nose again and he smiles.

"So, tell me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up. "Does that sound like someone who overlooks you?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Your heart aches—not the bad kind, but the kind that makes your chest feel too small for everything inside it. Because he's right. He notices everything. Not in the big, showy romance-movie ways but in the little things. In ways that matter.

You inhale a little too hard, blinking quickly, but the stinging in your eyes isn't going anywhere.

Aaron sees it immediately. "Sweetheart."

You shake your head quickly, sniffling.

"I'm not crying," you announce, even though your voice cracks on the last word, which kind of ruins the effect.

He smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say firmly, poking his chest. "I just—I feel very loved and now I have to process that."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do you need time to process, or should I just assume you're going to be attached to me for the foreseeable future?"

Your smile is instant, automatic, the kind that takes over your whole face before you can even think about stopping it. Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers curling into his shirt like you have any intention of letting go.

"Oh no, you're definitely stuck with me," you declare. "Like, you might need to call someone if you ever actually want me to let go."

His smirk is instant. "You're saying I should alert the authorities?"

You nod sagely. "I mean, that would be the responsible thing to do. But by the time they arrive, I'll have already made a compelling argument about how you should just let it happen."

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would."

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[heejamas]

nicest guy: 22. unspoken desires

word count: ~5.5k words + 7 screenshots

warnings: profanity, sexual jokes, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, jake and hoon hate each other, lil bit voyeurish (spoilers), very suggestive

There’s something uniquely terrifying about being invited to a college party—especially when it’s at Yeonjun’s frat house. Not in the way horror movies are, where someone’s about to get stabbed by a masked lunatic. No, this is worse. This is the kind of terrifying that comes from knowing the night will definitely end in chaos, and somehow, you’ll be at the center of it.

The last time you set foot in Yeonjun’s chaotic palace of regrets and poor decisions, Sunghoon puked on your cousin—yes, your actual flesh-and-blood cousin who was just trying to enjoy a casual Friday night. The cops showed up ten minutes later, and you ended up hiding in a room with both Jake and Sunghoon. To top it off, your older brother almost got arrested because someone (and you’re not saying it was Woonhak, but let’s be real, it was Woonhak) thought it’d be funny to sneak into the party, got stuck in the bushes outside, and caused such a commotion that he got 2 million likes on TikTok sharing his story.

So yeah, when Jake—quarterback extraordinaire and human golden retriever—invited you to another party at Yeonjun’s, your first instinct was to laugh. Your second instinct was to say no, but Jake’s puppy eyes were criminally persuasive.

You caught that subtle hint of “I’ll literally implode if you don’t come.” Jake’s crush on you wasn’t exactly subtle. It was the kind of crush that was written all over his face every time he saw you, like he was auditioning for a rom-com where he was the lovable idiot and you were the girl who was way too good for him.

Then there was Sunghoon, who… well, let’s just say he was a different breed. If Jake was a golden retriever, Sunghoon was a cat. One of those sleek, arrogant ones that you desperately wanted to pet, even though you knew they’d probably claw your hand off. He’d be there too. Of course he would. The universe had a sick sense of humor like that.

Now you’re standing in front of your closet, trying to decide if you want to look hot enough to make Jake’s jaw drop, or just cool enough to get under Sunghoon’s skin.

So you decided to have some fun. At least.

When you finally arrive at Yeonjun’s, the bass from the music is already thudding so hard it feels like it’s trying to crack the pavement. Sunoo and Giselle, your best friends and loyal companions for this adventure, are walking on either side of you, both armed with energy that screams “let’s make tonight unforgettable.”

Inside, the party is already in full swing, and you’re immediately greeted by the familiar chaos: red solo cups everywhere, someone already trying to drunkenly rap along to the music, and Yeonjun himself standing on a table pretending to DJ. You scan the room until your eyes land on your brother, who’s laughing with none other than Sunghoon.

Great. Sunghoon. Just your luck.

Your brother waves you over, and as you approach, you realize the group is bigger than you expected. Sunghoon, of course, is there, but so is Jay, his roommate, along with Leehan and Taesan, who you recognize from the last party disaster.

“Y/n!” your brother calls, throwing an arm around your shoulder like he hasn’t seen you in years. “Finally, you’re here.”

You exchange greetings, but your eyes keep flickering to Sunghoon, who’s watching you with that unreadable expression he always has. He’s been acting weird around you lately, and you’re pretty sure you know why. He wants you back. He’s finally admitted it to himself, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

Still, he’s sticking close, hovering just enough to make his presence known. And as much as you’d like to ignore it, you can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the only person in the room. It’s unsettling—and annoyingly flattering.

But you’ve got bigger problems. Like the fact that Jake is also here, and you need to go say hi to him. After all, he’s the one who invited you, and it would be rude not to. You excuse yourself from your brother’s group, promising to catch up later, and head toward the other side of the room where you spotted Jake. Jake, incredibly hot Jake.

Jake lights up when he sees you, his grin as bright and boyish as ever. “Y/n! You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you say, returning his smile. “I couldn’t miss the big victory party, could I?”

“Exactly,” Jake says, clearly thrilled that you’re here. “We totally crushed it last week, didn’t we? Sunghoon and I were unstoppable out there.”

“You were great,” you agree, though you can’t help but notice the slight tension in his voice when he mentions Sunghoon. The two of them may be incredible on the field, but off the field, their mutual dislike is impossible to ignore.

“Speaking of Sunghoon,” Jake says, glancing over your shoulder, “is he still glued to you, or did he finally give you some space?”

You turn to see Sunghoon not far away, leaning against a wall but very much keeping you in his line of sight. The look on his face when your eyes meet is enough to send a shiver down your spine. It’s almost like a challenge, daring you to ignore him.

“I asked both of you to be civil tonight,” you remind Jake with a raised eyebrow. “Can you at least try?”

Jake sighs dramatically but nods. “For you? Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

Sunghoon leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on you and Jake as if they were glued there by some invisible force. He hated this—hated how much he noticed the way Jake’s grin widened when you laughed, how easily you seemed to click with him. But mostly, he hated the way he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

There was something magnetic between you two, something that made it impossible for Sunghoon to keep his distance. He didn’t want to admit it at first, but lately, it was all he could think about. The way your smile made his chest tighten, the way your presence turned every room into something brighter, warmer. And it wasn’t just him—he knew Jake felt it too. He could see it in the way Jake looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

This wasn’t the first time he and Jake had been in this situation, though. A painful memory tugged at the edges of his mind, a memory he wished he could bury. Wonyoung. That name alone was enough to make his stomach twist. Back when he and Jake were friends—actual friends, not whatever tense truce they had now—they’d both fallen for Wonyoung. She’d played them both, lied to them, and left their friendship in ruins. But neither of them knew the full truth about what happened, not really. Sunghoon had tried to piece it together, but the whole thing still felt like a mess of half-truths and unanswered questions.

And now, here they were again, caught in a silent war over you.

He clenched his jaw, watching as Jake led you across the room to meet his friends. Sunghoon’s fists tightened at his sides, but he didn’t move. Not yet. He didn’t want to cause a scene, especially not here. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that history was about to repeat itself—and this time, it would be worse.

Jake, on the other hand, was living his best life. He couldn’t believe you were actually here, standing next to him, smiling like you weren’t the most gorgeous person in the room. He’d been planning this all week—trying to make sure everything was perfect, or at least as perfect as it could be at Yeonjun’s chaotic house party.

“Come on,” Jake said, his hand brushing yours as he guided you through the crowd. “Let’s find the guys."

When you reached their group, they greeted you like an old friend. Heeseung was the first to pull you into a quick hug, his usual warm grin lighting up his face. “Y/n! Finally. Jake’s been insufferable all week, you know. All, ‘Do you think she’ll come? What should I wear?’ It was tragic.”

“Shut up,” Jake groaned, rubbing the back of his neck while you laughed.

Beomgyu piped up next, his energy as chaotic as ever. “And don’t forget how he made us all run drills twice this week. ‘Gotta keep the momentum from the game,’” Beomgyu said, mimicking Jake’s voice. “It’s a party, not a press conference, dude.”

“You’re just mad I benched you last semester,” Jake shot back, smirking.

Beomgyu held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fair. But hey, at least now they know I’m not just a benchwarmer.”

“They should’ve known that the second you stepped on the field,” you said, giving him a small smile. “That last game? You killed it.”

Beomgyu’s grin widened. “Thanks, Y/n. At least someone here appreciates me.”

Soobin chimed in with a dry laugh. “Don’t let it go to your head, Beomgyu.”

The banter flowed easily, the group dynamic comfortable and familiar. But despite the lighthearted vibe, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was brewing. You’d caught Sunghoon watching you earlier, his gaze heavy, like he was trying to tell you something without words. And Jake—he was trying so hard to keep your attention, but there was an edge to him tonight, a tension that didn’t quite match his usual easygoing demeanor.

Later, Jake led you outside, away from the noise and chaos of the party. The cool night air wrapped around you as you stepped onto the deck, and for a moment, it felt like you could breathe again.

Jake leaned against the railing, his hands in his pockets as he looked over at you. “You’re having fun, right?”

“I am,” you said, smiling. “Your friends always make it easy.”

“They like you,” Jake said, his voice softer now. “I mean… who wouldn’t?”

The way he was looking at you made your stomach flip. There was something different about his expression—something serious, almost vulnerable. He took a step closer, the tension between you building with each passing second. The cool night air was a relief after the chaos inside, and you leaned against the railing, letting out a breath. Jake stood next to you, that signature lopsided grin playing on his lips.

“But they speak way too much,” he sighed. “Thought I’d never get you alone.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? That was your goal all along?”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “What can I say? Gotta take my chances.”

It was easy with Jake. The banter, the teasing—it never felt forced. And maybe that’s what made moments like this dangerous.

“Gotta admit,” he continued, eyes flicking to yours, “you look really good tonight.”

The way he said it, casual but undeniably flirty, sent a small thrill down your spine.

“You say that like I don’t always look good,” you shot back, smirking.

Jake laughed, bumping his shoulder against yours. “Okay, fair point.”

For a moment, the conversation lulled, but it wasn’t awkward. Just… charged. He was close, and you could tell he was waiting for something. A sign, maybe.

And then his expression shifted—just slightly, but enough for you to notice.

Before you could respond, the door to the backyard opened, and Sunghoon stepped out, his eyes immediately locking with yours. Jungwon was with him, even though he had no idea you were there with Jake. Sunghoon looked like he had something on his mind, but when he saw Jake next to you, his expression tightened.

Jungwon and Sunghoon approached you and Jake, their casual demeanor almost making you forget how tense things were between them. Sunghoon gave you a nod, his eyes briefly lingering on you before shifting to Jake. Jungwon seemed to sense the shift, giving a little shrug as he offered Sunghoon the joint. "Alright, no fights tonight, okay? Let's just keep it chill."

Sunghoon took the joint with a grin that barely concealed the edge in his voice. "Yeah, yeah, no promises," he said, his eyes locking onto Jake for a second too long. The message was clear: they were both trying to play nice, but it was only because you asked them to. And neither of them were doing it because they wanted to.

"Hey," Jungwon greeted with his usual friendly grin. "You two good?"

"Yeah," you answered, flashing a smile. "Just enjoying the fresh air."

Sunghoon didn’t say much, just a subtle tilt of his head as he looked at both of you. His eyes then shifted to the joint in his hand, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. "Want a hit?" Sunghoon asked, his voice smooth, offering it to you and Jake. The offer hung in the air, the tension between him and Jake as thick as the smoke curling around them.

Jake shot Sunghoon a glance, his posture stiffening for just a second. "Nah, we’re good," he said, quickly turning to you. "Right, Y/N?"

You shrugged, but the playful glint in your eye didn’t escape Sunghoon's notice. "I’m good," you replied, your voice light. "But thanks."

"Alright then," Sunghoon said, exhaling smoke and offering a small smile. He didn’t wait for any more responses before walking away, Jungwon falling into step beside him.

As they walked off, you noticed how Sunghoon’s gaze lingered on you with heat in his stare. It was like a challenge, and something in his eyes told you that he wasn’t done with this game yet.

The moment felt charged—electrified—but it broke when Jake cleared his throat, putting a hand gently on your arm. "Let’s head back inside," he suggested, his voice more urgent than usual. "We’re missing all the fun."

As you walked back into the party with Jake, the noise and chaos of Yeonjun's house party immediately swallowed you up. The beat of the music thudded in your chest, and the air was thick with laughter, chatter, and the scent of alcohol. Jake’s hand brushed against yours briefly, but when you reached the group of your friends, he gave you a quick nod, clearly excited to see them.

"Catch you later," he said, his grin easy and casual as he drifted off toward Heeseung and some of the others.

But just before he turned away, you caught a flash of irritation in his eyes. It was subtle, hidden under the mask of his usual charm, but you could tell. He hadn’t gotten his chance with you yet, and that was clearly bugging him. The thought of being brushed off for now didn’t sit well with him, but he wasn’t about to let it show. Not yet.

You could almost feel the weight of his unspoken frustration as he turned his back, but as he made his way through the crowd, his determination was clear. He wasn’t going to give up on you that easily.

You waved him off, letting him disappear into the crowd as you focused on Sunoo and Giselle, who were already waving you over.

"Finally managed to escape the chaos outside?" Sunoo teased, his usual grin spreading across his face. You joined them, enjoying the chat, but there was still a lingering sense of tension that you couldn’t shake off. You tried to push it aside, making the most of the time with your friends.

As Jake disappeared into the crowd, you didn’t think much of it. Instead, you turned back to your friends, a mischievous grin spreading across your face as you decided to let loose for a bit. The rest of the night carried on with drinks, laughter, and dancing. Sunoo and Giselle were already leading you in a ridiculous dance-off, and you were more than happy to oblige, tossing back shots and swaying to the beat as the music enveloped you.

For a while, you forgot all about the JakeHoon situation. The fun of the night kept you distracted, and you laughed harder than you had in a long time.

But as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or rather, someone—was missing. When you finally found yourself in a quieter spot near the bar, nursing another drink and chatting with Giselle, you felt a flicker of that familiar, magnetic pull again. You turned your head just in time to see Sunghoon walking back into the party, his expression unreadable, but his eyes immediately locking onto yours.

It was almost as if the room quieted when he stepped in, the noise fading in the background as you watched him glide through the crowd with that undeniable confidence. And when his eyes landed on you, that quiet intensity returned, making your heart skip a beat.

He’d been gone for a while, but now, Sunghoon was back—and it seemed like he was looking for something… or maybe someone.

His movements were smooth and effortless, cutting through the crowd like he owned the place. His eyes never strayed from you as he made his way over, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking toward you with purpose—like a predator closing in on its prey.

"Hey," Sunghoon said when he reached you, his tone playful, though his gaze was anything but lighthearted. He quickly nodded toward your friends. "You having fun?"

Sunoo grinned back, and Giselle raised an eyebrow, but before either of them could say anything, Sunghoon’s attention shifted solely to you. He leaned closer, just enough to make you feel the warmth of his body next to yours. "Looks like you’ve been enjoying yourself," he remarked, his voice low and easy, as if they’d known each other for much longer than just tonight. What's that supposed to mean?

You raised an eyebrow, trying to match his tone. "Wouldn’t you be too, if you weren't in my shoes?" you replied, voice teasing.

Sunghoon smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I’m sure you’re used to all the attention by now," he said, giving you a once-over that made your skin prickle. His gaze lingered, and you felt that familiar tension building up between you two.

You chuckled softly, trying to play it off. "I don’t know. Seems like there’s always someone else trying to catch my eye."

Sunghoon’s lips twitched into a half-smirk. "Oh, I’m sure you can keep them waiting. Though," he leaned in a little closer, just enough to make you aware of his proximity, "I wouldn’t keep them waiting too long."

As you exchanged words, you felt a pair of eyes watching you from the corner of your vision. Glancing over, you caught a glimpse of Jake standing across the room, his eyes fixed on the two of you. He didn’t approach, but the tension in his stare was unmistakable.

Sunghoon noticed too, and a smirk tugged at his lips. He pulled back just slightly, his tone shifting. "You should get back to your boyfriend," he said, the words dripping with playful challenge. His gaze, however, was still locked on you, the heat in it not quite masked by the lighthearted remark.

After Sunghoon left, you kept talking with Sunoo and Giselle, trying to shake off the weirdness in the air. You didn’t need to be a mind reader to know Sunghoon’s eyes were on you the entire time. The guy had a way of looking at you like you were his next challenge, and you were starting to get a little tired of it. Or, well, maybe not tired, more like… intrigued?

You were at the bar, scanning the options for your next drink when you felt a familiar presence behind you. Without even having to look, you could feel the tension in the air—it was Jake. You half-turned and gave him a smile. He was leaning against the bar, looking at you like he was about to say something, but there was a little more intent in his gaze than you were used to.

"Hey," Jake said, eyes scanning you quickly, like he was checking for any signs of discomfort. "Everything good?"

"Yeah, just getting a drink," you replied, glancing around at the chaos of the party. It was busy, loud, and full of people—yet, it felt like the noise started to fade when he stood next to you.

Jake leaned in, his arm brushing against yours as he spoke. "Just don’t go overboard with the drinks, alright?" He flashed you a teasing smirk, but there was something softer underneath. "But if you do get a little too wild, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you. Just like you did for me last time."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit surprised by the shift in tone. "You really think I need someone to take care of me?" you teased, your lips curving into a smile.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "Well, considering how you saved me from turning into a disaster last time, I figured I’d return the favor." His eyes glinted with a mischievous spark as he added, "But honestly, I’d rather just have you around and make sure you’re enjoying the night."

You smirked, a little flattered but still keeping up the playful attitude. "I’m a big girl, Jake. I think I can handle it."

Jake's grin widened, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar intensity. He leaned in a bit closer, his voice lower now, almost like he was sharing a secret.

"I know you're a big girl," he said with a playful wink. "But that doesn't mean I can't look out for you. Besides, there's something about keeping you close that makes everything a lot more fun."

You could feel the heat of his words, and it made your heart race a little faster. His tone was smooth, almost dangerously charming. It wasn’t hard to tell that he was enjoying getting under your skin, pushing all the right buttons.

You leaned back against the bar, trying to play it cool. "I’m not sure if you’re trying to flirt with me or just make me feel like I’m about to be babysat, but it’s working either way."

Jake laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with that familiar cocky energy. "Maybe a little bit of both," he teased, then added with a smirk, "But hey, if you’d rather I just focus on keeping you entertained instead of worrying about your drinks, I’m all for that too."

You felt the tension between you two, a pull that only seemed to grow stronger with each word. The music of the party seemed to fade out completely as you locked eyes with him again.

"Alright, so what’s your plan then?" you asked, leaning in just slightly.

Jake took a slow step back, his grin never faltering. "How about I show you a quieter spot?" He raised an eyebrow as he glanced toward the stairs. "We can talk a little more. I promise it’s not as boring as it sounds."

You glanced toward the staircase for a moment, then back at him. A part of you was curious, but you weren’t sure if this was just another one of his playful moves—or something more.

"Lead the way," you said, trying to keep your voice casual, though there was a spark of excitement in your chest.

Jake’s smile was triumphant as he gestured toward the stairs. "This way, then."

As you followed him up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice the way he moved, confident, almost like he knew exactly how to get under your skin. And as you reached the top of the stairs, you realized there was no backing out now—this was going to be one interesting night.

As you and Jake made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t help but notice Sunghoon standing a little further away, his eyes locked on you two. He looked… well, you couldn’t quite place it, but there was definitely something in his gaze. It wasn’t anger, but it wasn’t exactly admiration either. It was like a mix of confusion, jealousy, and, strangely enough, something else.

You could feel it, but you didn’t have time to linger on it too long. Jake's hand brushed yours as you reached the top of the stairs, and the tension between you two was almost unbearable.

Just as you stepped onto the landing, Jake glanced back, only to find Sunghoon still watching you. Their eyes for a split second, and it was almost like a silent exchange, like they were sizing each other up. Sunghoon took a slow sip from his drink, eyes narrowing slightly, almost as if he was giving Jake some kind of… permission.

Jake, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed. As you passed a group of people laughing and chatting, you caught a glimpse of Heeseung entering a room with a girl. Jake didn’t recognize her at first, but the moment he saw her face, he remembered the girl's name. Ronnie. Heeseung's situationship. Jake lets out a quiet laugh, though he’s already turning his attention back to you.

Jake, still leading you down the quieter part of the hall, was all smiles as he glanced back at you. “So, what do you think? Pretty nice spot, huh?”

You took in the vibe of the hallway. It was quieter here, a little more private, but not entirely deserted. You could still hear some laughter and faint music from the main area of the party. "Yeah, definitely not the worst place to escape to."

Jake turned to face you, a teasing grin on his face. “Well, you know, I don’t just bring anyone up here.”

You smirked, not missing the implication. “I’m honored, then.”

The playful tension was thick between you two now, and you could tell Jake was trying to decide whether to make his move or not. His eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment, and you felt your heart skip a beat. His smirk turned into something more genuine, more real. He wasn’t just playing anymore—he was figuring out whether you were the kind of girl who would let him take the lead, or if you were going to make him work for it.

"You know," Jake says with that same cocky smile, "I’ve been thinking. You really know how to make everything more interesting than it should be. Not that I’m complaining, of course."

You raise an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? I thought I was just keeping things fun."

Jake chuckles, a little more softly this time. "Yeah, but I’m starting to think I might want to keep you to myself tonight. You know, less distractions."

His tone shifts just a little, something softer underneath the teasing. The air between you both feels a little heavier now, the kind of tension that makes your heart race.

As the playful banter continued, you both found yourselves moving a little closer, the tension building. And you both knew this moment was just about ready to hit a tipping point.

But before Jake could make any move, you noticed out of the corner of your eye—Sunghoon. He was still standing down the hall with Jay, but now, there was no mistaking the look on his face. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was… something more. Jake noticed too, and his posture stiffened, though he didn’t acknowledge Sunghoon directly. He just kept his focus on you.

“You know,” Jake said, leaning in a bit more, “we’re not gonna get interrupted here. Not like back downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. "You sure?"

Jake chuckled softly, eyes glinting with a touch of amusement. "Definitely not."

And just like that, you both knew—you didn’t need to rush this, but the moment had definitely arrived. As the moment stretched on, you realized this was it. The game was on.

The moment lingered in the air like a breath held too long. You and Jake stood there, just inches apart, the weight of it all between you. The conversation had slowed, but not because there was nothing to say—it was because words didn’t feel necessary anymore.

Jake brushed a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. "You know, you're even more beautiful up close," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

You smiled, the playful tension still hanging there. "Flattery, huh? Is that how you get girls?"

He grinned, his gaze shifting between your lips and your eyes. "If it works, yeah. But I think you're more than just… a pretty face."

He leaned in, just enough that you could feel his breath against your lips. Jake’s hand lingered on your chin, tilting your face just the right way, and you felt your heart race. His gaze was intense, but there was a softness in the way he looked at you, like he was waiting for permission, even though neither of you had said a word.

"Is this okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper, as if he needed you to say it aloud before he could take the next step.

You nodded, a slight smile tugging at your lips. "I think you know it is."

And just like that, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, his hands now at your waist, holding you tightly, as if the only thing that mattered in that moment was you and him.

His lips moved against yours with a steady pressure, coaxing you to lean into him. You let out a soft breath as the kiss deepened, and for a moment, everything else—the noise of the party, the other people in the house—disappeared entirely.

Jake’s lips were soft but demanding, his touch gentle but confident, and you couldn’t help but respond. His hand moved to the back of your neck, threading his fingers through your hair, and pulling you even closer, if that was even possible. The heat between you two was undeniable, and for once, everything around you felt irrelevant.

Your pulse quickened, your body instinctively reacting to his closeness. His lips were in perfect sync with yours, and the kiss became more urgent, more intense. You could feel his breath against your skin, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his heart racing just as fast as yours. His hand moved to your back, drawing you in so tightly you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began.

His lips left yours briefly, and you felt him press his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, the space between you two almost unbearable. His voice was barely a whisper, filled with heat. “You make it hard to stop,” he muttered, his fingers trailing down your back in slow, deliberate motions.

You smirked, your hand brushing against his chest. “You’re not exactly trying to stop.”

Jake chuckled darkly, his lips curving into a smile as he kissed you again, deeper this time. You couldn’t help but respond, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, feeling the strength beneath his clothes. The kiss was no longer just a kiss.

And then, from the corner of your eye, you felt it. Someone was watching.

Sunghoon.

From a distance, he stood there, his eyes fixed on the scene. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word, but the way he watched felt almost too intense. Like he was studying the moment, feeling the tension simmering in his chest, but not knowing what to do with it. His hand tightened around his drink, and Jay, standing beside him, noticed the subtle shift.

“You good?” Jay asked, giving Sunghoon a side glance, confused by the way his friend seemed both intrigued and irritated.

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his gaze still locked on Jake and you. His jaw clenched slightly, and for the first time, Jay wondered if there was something more going on in Sunghoon’s head. It was a weird mix of jealousy and something else he couldn’t quite place. Sunghoon didn’t say anything—he just sipped his drink, eyes never leaving the couple.

Meanwhile, Jake, completely oblivious to the silent observer, was enjoying the kiss, the quiet power of the moment. He knew Sunghoon was watching, could feel his presence from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t care. If anything, it made the kiss feel even more thrilling, knowing that someone else—someone who hated him—was helpless to look away.

And when the kiss finally broke, you were both left breathless, eyes locked. The distance between you two had disappeared, and it wasn’t just a physical space. Something else had shifted, something far deeper.

“So,” Jake said, voice husky as he leaned his forehead against yours, “What now, princess?”

You smirked, already feeling the spark between you two. "Guess we wait and see."

But neither of you could deny that the game had just begun.

prev | masterlist | next

author's note: I ADDED AN EASTER EGG YES I INSERTED MYSELF I DONT FUCKING CARE I WANTED TO BE INVOLVED AND NOW IM HEESEUNG'S SITUATIONSHIP THANK YOU. and sunghoon's voyeurish. i wish you all a jubilant evening

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @sumzysworld @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @winterearls @why4anne @jakesfurry @steddie-steddie @elegancefr

[lanascurse]

: ̗̀➛ Safety Scripting ideas for your dangerous DR’s ! !

────────────

𑁋 you are protected from severe or moderate injuries including: damage to the brain/organs, breaking any bones, tearing any ligaments and muscles, etc.

𑁋 your body is constantly healthy, even immune to common sicknesses like the cold and such (if desired)

𑁋 you can never catch serious illnesses, or contract anything serious

𑁋 if you do want to experience some sort pain for the sake of realism, script in high pain tolerance (very important!)

𑁋 your body heals quickly (preferably 1-3 days or within hours)

𑁋 you’re capable of fighting off any unwanted dangers, always come out on top.

𑁋 you have an intimidating aura that makes others afraid to approach you (specifically people looking for trouble/harm)

𑁋 you can go without food and water for a long time without physically deteriorating. or script that you never have to deal with food and water shortage/you always find food and water wherever you go.

𑁋 no any unwanted mental issues and you are free from suffering severe depression, anxiety, etc. this saves you mentally which could eventually affect you physically.

𑁋 it’s real life, so make sure you script that you are able to process trauma well. but if you want, nothing is stopping you from not having any sort of trauma at all !

𑁋 any of the monsters/creatures in your DR cannot infect, posses, or kill you. you never feel guilty ridding them off the face of the earth, it’s what you must do to survive.

𑁋 you have fantastic coordination, strategy, and execution (figuratively and literally) skills. these skills allow you to navigate your surroundings and make it out of life-threatening situations.

𑁋 physically strong. fit enough to run a marathon.

𑁋 you feel a strong sense of unease whenever something potentially dangerous is lurking near you. your intuition is always on point, you never ignore it.

𑁋 negative people will always end up leaving your life, letting you thrive in all your glory. and sooner rather than later.

𑁋 you know basic survival skills. handy if you find yourself out in the wild!

𑁋 certain dangerous plants, bugs, substances, etc. cannot affect you or you have high resistance against them. heck, they can’t even reach you.

𑁋 your height, clothes, hair, nails, jewelry, menstrual cycle, etc. never put you at a disadvantage in battles.

𑁋 you have a trusted group of people who protect you from unwanted danger. also, they radiate positive, uplifting energy!! helps in times of distress fr.

𑁋 you’re mentally mature enough to handle serious situations.

𑁋 if you use safe words, then you always remember it in instant moments of unwanted danger. you’ll know when too much has become TOO MUCH.

𑁋 you and your loved ones cannot be killed. script death happens from natural causes in old age.

𑁋 your opponents moves are easy to predict, easily dodge and avoid any harsh attacks.

𑁋 if you’re bound, you can easily slip yourself out of the restraints.

𑁋 all of your senses are sharp throughout your whole lifetime. not even old age can interfere with it.

𑁋 ALL of this for your loved ones as well !!

────────────

thank you for reading!! if there’s any other suggestions you have, please leave a comment :)

[mellosdrawings]

Alrighty, let's tackle the second part of this request!

Here's a tuto on how to draw the nightmare that is Azul's hair!

First, a few observations.

Contrary to other characters like Jamil, Riddle, or Sebek, Azul's hair doesn't immediately tell you everything about his personality. For someone as calculating and (trying to be) mature as Azul, you'd expect his hair to be slick and and each strand to be at it's proper place.

It's the contrary here. Azul has wavy, almost curly hair that is completely all over the place.

It's because that's his own struggle that is shown here. Azul has always fought against himself, being his octopus nature, his weight, or even his hair that won't stick down. That boy is just cursed to forever have something about himself that doesn't fit his aesthetic.

(Personally whenever I look at Azul upside down, I really feel like it'd be the kind of hair for a cool extroverted guy in an Idol gacha game)

Step 1. Hairline

Azul has a simple round hairline so simply draw an arch.

Step 2. Hair root

Azul's hair all comes from a point right above the left side of his left iris, so I would suggest you draw Azul's face (and even glasses) first.

Step 3. Bangs

Azul has two strands that fall between his eyes, just a bit to the right. Start from the root point you placed earlier, and draw two wavy lines intersecting. The first will stop at the upper rim of his glasses, above his right iris area. The second will stop at the lower rim of his glasses, below his right iris area.

All of Azul's hair will be made with soft waves that fork back up, so train yourself to do that move flowingly. You're not done using it.

Step 4. Front hair 1

There are two strands that seem closer to us and frame the other bangs, so let's draw them first. In my example I drew the lower strand a bit too high, it should come right above Azul's right eye. The upper one thought will almost be horizontal. Both of those will reach the area above the right ear.

Once more, waves.

Step 5. Front hair 2

Now the two strands between the last two. They will go further than the ear.

Step 6. Side strand

Azul's tentacle-like strand. It is composed by the only strand of hair that forks towards his face, instead of outward. It goes around the eye and reaches lower than the middle strand.

The second part is the actual tentacle. It hides the ear entirely and reaches down to Azul's chin level.

Still, always a wave that forks outward.

Step 7. Ahoge

Yup. "Mature" and calculating Azul has an ahoge. That might be the only part of his hair that does indeed reflect his personality. Azul can be quite immature and stupid at times. (For those who don't know, "ahoge" literally means "stupid hair" and it's usually used on stupid or immature characters)

Simply make it start at the root point. It's about the size of Azul's hairline to eyes, but globally just make it go up above where the rest of his hair would go.

Step 8. Right side

That is the part that people (even Yana if we trust the notes she made) struggle with. There is a volume here that can't be too fluffy or not big enough. It's actually just the size of half his face. Put your mark and do your best to fill it without going further.

From there, draw about 4 or 5 waves. Connecting each tip should make an arch, with the further point being the strands at Azul's eye level.

Step 9. Behind the ear

The only part of Azul's hair that is well groomed is those few strands of hair, that look like they were pushed behind his ear. This is also the only part (alongside the ahoge) that isn't made using a wave.

Step 10. Left side

And we're back to drawing waves, this time forking left. There is about 3 waves to do. These strands won't be as fluffy as the right side, sticking closer to the skull, but still add some volume. Wavy/curly hair just can't stick to the skull (I'd know it *sigh*)

Step 11. Details

Time to check your proportions, add a few lines within the strands, add more lines at the roots to show that his hair go from here.

Finished!

So. Idol!Azul when? (One day. One day I'll do that Housewarden Idol AU)

(Last note: he does have an undercut. I'll forever go crazy about Azul of all people having a fuckboi (/affectionate) haircut)

(Official pic from the Magical Archives)

[anonymouswarriorhumanist]

hhhahha u r a loser fuck.

Firstly, Marx was not a useless leach. He remained poor all his life and writing Das Kapital literally rendered him penniless and sick. it was Engels who trusted in his idea and funded him. Ur points r so shite I mean living in a capitalist society and rebelling against it, means using ur own machinery/money to fight back. Engel was the perfect example of a sympathetic bourgeoise, smth with Marx agreed with. Also, if u love capitalism so much, why is it that capitalism has led to so much slave trade, racism, sexism etc. Capitalism has failed too and it is morons like u who uphold its values.

Hey, ever heard of Nazi death camps and gas chambers. The Nazi party hated Jews and other disabled and queer people along with communists. Are u a snail? Nazi Germany was the height of capitalism and anti-communism in one state: misogyny, ableism, invasion, identity persecution and whatnot. And so was/is India with its casteism and misogyny (Manusmriti says hi).

Also, ur example is sooo stupid. U think ur personal experience accounts for shite. Go to rural Kerala or Chattisgarh and see the land revolts and its leaders. U will get fucked, u asshole. Also. Modi is shite coz he is an enemy of the working class. I mean ur leader bootlicks corps and Ambani/Adani. Pls address that as well and how much Modi actually does for the taxpaying working class while giving them zero amenities. Go fuck urself.

hahha. I will always stand with the victim if it means kicking ur asses on ur own blogs. Go cry abt it. ALso more than J.Sai Deepak who argues marital rape is good, I would argue Dr. Ambedkar i a betetr starting point for a dumbfuck like you. I would suggest taking up the 'Annihilation of Caste' first.

Marxists are not found in farms or factories; they are found in colleges or government bureaucracy

Or, like Marx himself, the Marxists are found freeloading on trust-funds, or wealthy family and friends.

People who work for a living to produce tangible goods do not dream of a world in which some nebulous "other" is forced to provide them tangible goods for free.

Laborers dream only of a world in which no one makes their labor harder than it needs to be, and no one takes the fruits of their labor away from them without adequate compensation.

But people who only know how to place obstacles in other people's way and to take resources from others, will necessarily dream only of a world in which they have unlimited power to make life harder for the people they do not like, and to take as many resources as they want from people they do not like.

Marxists want to believe they can "manage" humanity into paradise because they are managers, not builders.

Marxists cannot understand the concept of "building" humanity into paradise. Building things is "beneath" a Marxist; anyone who builds things for a living is an enemy, and all enemies must be forced to build things that the Marxist gets for free.

Because the Marxist always wants for free something that cost someone else to make, they have no reason to ever achieve "true communism" because that would mean they have to get down in the dirt with the hideous factory workers and farmers they hate so much.

And then when their totalitarian state crumbles and falls around them, they dismiss their failure as "not true communism".

[lovecla]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor were enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

[helen-with-an-a]

Hi van you write Lucy Bronze x reader. Reader and Lucy both changed club. R at Arsenal and obviously Lucy at Chelsea. Can you write something about the first game against eachother. Reader is striker so she and Lucy are at battle a lot

Rivalry

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: It's the first London Derby for you and Lucy

TW: slight suggestiveness

“Now, remember, you guys do actually love each other,” Millie reminded, her eyebrow arched as she looked at Lucy.

Lucy crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, flicking a dismissive look across the room. “Not when she’s wearing red, I don’t,” she shot back, her lips pursed.

Millie sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re literally married,” she deadpanned.

Before Lucy could shoot back, Erin bounded over, grinning from ear to ear. “C’mon, Bronzey. Time to do your worst,” she cheered, her hands landing firmly on Lucy’s shoulders. She gave Lucy an enthusiastic shake, encouraging the childish competitiveness.

"Remember, you’re married. You love her," Kim reminded gently, her Scottish accent warm and soothing as she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You shook her off with a dramatic shrug, glancing off to the side. "Not whilst she’s in blue," you said with a smirk, half-joking but also incredibly serious.

Kim raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"That’s what we like to hear," came Katie's playful response, clearly enjoying the spark of mischief in your tone. She leaned in with a wolfish grin, unfazed by the disapproving glance Kim shot in her direction.

“Honestly,” Kim muttered, rolling her eyes but unable to hide her amusement, “you two are impossible.”

You chuckled, exchanging a knowing look with Katie, who winked in return, thoroughly unbothered by Kim’s scolding.

The London Derby – a clash of colours, red vs blue, Arsenal against Chelsea. The stadium was electric, fans on both sides roaring as the teams took their places, the rivalry as fierce as ever. This wasn’t just any match; it was a battle of pride, a test of skill, a stage where heroes were made.

On one side, Arsenal’s new Left Winger, all determination and fire, an unstoppable force that already had 10 goals to her name. Across from her, Chelsea’s Right Back, just as new to the club but with a resolve just as sharp. One of the best defenders in the world, and ready to prove herself.

It was Bronze vs Y/S/N – a head-to-head destined to draw all eyes, both players back in the WSL and ready to prove they belonged.

You loved playing with Lucy – there was an undeniable rhythm when you were on the same side. Your link-ups at City and England were the stuff of legends and had followed you across to La Liga F. But playing against her? That was something else entirely. There was an excitement, a spark that transformed the entire field into a chessboard, a dance floor for you to twist and turn on.

You knew exactly how she moved, the subtle shifts of her weight before a sprint, the flicker of her eyes before she went for a pass. You could practically feel what was running through her head, and she’d always been an open book to you on the field. But it worked both ways. Lucy knew your tactics inside out, the plays you liked, the feints you tried to slip past her, even the tiny tells you had when you were about to break away. She saw it all.

This mutual understanding turned the match into something thrilling – a mental game layered onto the physical. Every pass you intercepted, every tackle she made, felt like a challenge issued and answered. It was a test of skill and instinct, one that you rarely found with other opponents. There was an intensity to it, a sense of pushing each other to the edge, each play daring the other to do better. Against her, you played your best.

“Loser’s tied up tonight?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you lined up for the corner, her hands grazing your hips in a way that set your heart racing, even if you wouldn’t show it.

“Bring it, Bronze.” You shot back, unfazed, letting your smile seep into your voice. You’d trained against her for years now; her mind games weren’t new territory. If anything, you were more amused than anything else.

Lucy let out a dramatic sigh, clearly ready to keep up the act. “Ugh, that’s Bronze-Y/S/N, thank you very much,” she whispered, sounding almost offended, but the glimmer in her eye gave her away.

“Well, the back of your shirt still says Bronze,” you replied, raising an eyebrow and glancing back at her with a smirk.

“And yours still says Y/S/N.” She countered. Before you could toss another witty remark back, you heard a voice cutting through the tension.

“Stop flirting and concentrate, Luce,” Hannah called out, her tone half-exasperated, half-amused as she tried to organise her back line.

You could see Lucy bite her lip, her cheeks tinged pink, a slight laugh escaping her. "Yeah, Lucy, wouldn't want flirting with your incredibly sexy wife to be the reason I score now would we." You winked, sticking your tongue out as you nodded at Katie.

You charged down the wing, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you collected a beautifully weighted pass from Leah from the edge of the box. Without breaking stride, you looked up, assessing the field. Lucy and Hannah were the only Chelsea players left between you and the goal.

The options whirled in your mind in seconds. A long-range shot? It would be ambitious, a shot from barely over halfway. You were still in the centre circle, but Hannah was off her line, hovering just far enough to tempt fate. The safer play would be to drive it forward, close the distance, but Lucy was waiting, ready to close in if you tried to slip past her. You could see her watching you, ready to pounce the moment your concentration slipped.

Your eyes flicked to the goal, a decision making itself for you. Steeling yourself, you brought your leg back, letting power build. Releasing it in a controlled strike, you watched as the ball launched from your boot, a perfect arc carrying it high and fast over the field.

Hannah scrambled back, her fingertips grazing the air, but it was too late. The ball sailed over her reach and crashed into the back of the net, sending the netting rippling in glorious confirmation.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, the entire pitch seemed to hold its breath. The impossible shot hung in the air, every eye tracing its perfect arc until it dropped, nestling into the back of the net. And then, the silence shattered. Cheers exploded from the stands, a roar that rolled over the field and settled into your bones, fuelling the rush already coursing through you. You let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, a wide grin breaking across your face as what you had just done fully set in.

Turning back, you searched the field for Lucy, anticipation bubbling up in you. When you caught her eye, her expression was priceless – caught between surprise and reluctant admiration. Her mouth opened as if to protest, but then she closed it, lips twisting into a smile that was more fond than annoyed, even if it was tinged with a hint of competitive frustration.

For a moment, neither of you said a word. You simply shared that look, the quiet acknowledgment of having pushed each other, of knowing exactly how to get under each other’s skin on the field – and of enjoying every second of it.

"Is it too much to use the red ties?" you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips as you strolled up to Lucy, your voice dripping with teasing charm.

Lucy let out an exaggerated gasp, pressing a hand to her chest like she was utterly wounded. "My pride is on the floor, and yet you still kick me when I'm down!" she replied, though her eyes sparkled with laughter, making it impossible for her to sell the act.

You laughed loudly, thoroughly undeterred by her theatrics. "What can I say? London is red after all," you replied as you stepped even closer, closing the last of the distance. Without hesitation, you slipped your arms around her waist, pulling her against you. "And your arse will be too by the time I’m done with you," you whispered, your voice dropping to a seductive murmur as your lips brushed her ear.

Lucy’s cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink, and she gave a nervous laugh, casting a quick, cautious glance over her shoulder. “We’re still in public, you know,” she murmured, though the deepening colour in her cheeks showed she wasn’t entirely complaining.

“Oh, I know.” You looked up at her with a wicked smile, savouring the moment, not quite ready to pull away just yet.

But before you could say anything more, Leah’s voice cut through the tension, loud and teasing. “Oi, stop with the weird foreplay and go shower!” she called, casting an exaggerated eye-roll in your direction and folding her arms, though a hint of a grin tugged at her mouth.

Lucy laughed, burying her face in your shoulder for a moment, clearly amused and a little embarrassed. With a small sigh, she gave you a reluctant smile. “Guess that’s our cue,” she muttered, squeezing your hand before finally letting go.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hola dulce!! Me encanta lo que escribes, por eso pensé en enviarte este video donde las chicas latinas responden “you too, papi” a sus novios/esposos.

Me detuve a pensar cómo reaccionarían los chicos de COD.

Disculpa el español!! Gracias por leer, espero no molestarte. 🩷

Hola chica! I know you sent this in a while back (and I'm so sorry for the wait). I did play around with the prompt a little bit, expanded it slightly beyond just boyfriend/husband, and kept the "you too, papi" both literally and in spirit. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Latina!Fem!Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, flirting, banter, brief alcohol use, suggestive themes, pregnancy mention, established relationship

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John smooths the front of his suit jacket. It’s a formal occasion, and it’s clear that he’s completely uncomfortable. This isn’t his sort of scene.

You turn your body toward him, replacing his hands with yours, smoothing out the wrinkles and adjusting the lapels. John sighs, his brow softening as his gaze focuses on you. Your wedding ring sparkles under the light, shimmering with each movement.

“You look dashing,” you murmur.

John chuckles, and takes your hand, bringing it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Behave yourself tonight.”

“I always behave,” you say with as much innocence as you can muster.

This time, John cracks a genuine smile.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “Be good.”

“I will,” you insist. “And you be good too, papi.”

John groans. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Call me papi. Not here. You know how it makes me.”

That’s you, always on your worst behavior.

“Whatever you say,” you murmur. Then, after a beat, “papi.”

“Bloody hell, woman,” he growls under his breath. “One more time and I’m finding the nearest broom closet.”

Just to be a tease, just to cause a little stir, you playfully push off from his chest. “Papi,” you mouth silently, winking.

John "Soap" MacTavish

A hazy smoke lingers overhead. The air is thick with humidity. Music blares from speakers.

Tonight is a night for celebration, of dancing and drinking and flirting, of going home with someone. But you’re parked behind the bar, serving shots and watching from afar.

Los Vaqueros.

They’re out tonight, celebrating. Those faces you recognize, but you don’t know who the quartet are sitting next to their leader, Alejandro Vargas. They’re a mystery.

Until one of them approaches.

“Have anything other than tequila?”

His accent is thick. British—no. Scottish. He’s cute. Has a charm about him.

“Course we do, papi,” you grin, leaning on the bar, and forcing your breasts a bit higher.

His eyes immediately fall there before quickly snapping up.

“Papi?” he repeats, and you laugh.

Instead of whiskey, you present this stranger a few other options. “Whisky? Vodka?”

He licks his lips. “Whiskey. Please.”

You wink, and pour him the whiskey. “On the house, papi.”

Those cheeks of his darken into a lovely shade of pink. As if catching himself, he coughs, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” He glances around. “Enjoy yourself.”

You raise your hand, and wiggle your fingers as he backs up. “You too, papi.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Leaving is always bittersweet.

Simon drops his packed duffle bag next to the front door. He’s dressed, ready to head to work to prepare for another mission. He hasn’t been briefed yet, and Price didn’t say much over the phone. He only said to come.

“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to you.

You melt into his arms, resting your chin against his chest, looking up at him. Simon takes this moment to admire you, to remember your features, to lean in for a few gentle kisses.

“Love you,” he says.

“Love you,” you reply.

Simon grins, going in for one last kiss.

“Be good,” he chuckles. “No misbehaving.”

“You behave too, papi,” you croon, head titling in invitation.

Simon accepts, leaving you momentarily breathless.

“Say that again. I liked it.”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Shifting his arm downward, Simon grasps a portion of your upper thigh and the curve of your ass.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

You lick your lips. “Papi.”

“Again,” he growls.

You do, and Simon hooks is arm at your waist, pressing you against the wall.

“One more.”

“Papi.”

Groaning, Simon looks at his watch, and shrugs. “Price won’t mind if I’m a little late.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“No. No.”

Kyle places a hand against the wall, leaning against it as he stares you down. You blatantly ignore him, remaining on the steep stool.

“You don’t need to do this,” he says.

“Dios mío!” You shake your head, the hammer poised to come down on the nail in the wall. “I told you to hang the picture!”

Kyle takes a deep breath. “I said I would do it.”

“That means now.”

“And here I am,” he replies. His tone is calm, but you hear the strain in it. You’re always testing his patience.

“I can do it myself.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Why?” you snap. “Because I’m a woman?”

“Because you’re pregnant,” he says, deadpan.

The two of you stare each other down. Kyle cocks his head and then nods at your rounded belly that touches the wall.

Without speaking, you descend and offer up the hammer. Kyle takes it.

“I love you,” he says. “But sometimes you make my heartrate spike.”

“Back at you, papi,” you mutter under your breath.

Though your back is to him, you hear the exasperated sigh. “Go have a snack.” Kyle brings the hammer down on the nail. “Or maybe a nap.”

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[angelart67]

OK... So I don't have Instagram, which is probably because it is META owned & if I gave up my FakeBook, it makes no sense why I would just jump to another platform owned by the same entity... YES, I DO KNOW THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS... Only wrote it cause this makes me wish I could ONLY SEE the stuff that is WORTH IT on those platforms... LIKE THIS... Soooooo, that said, THANK GOD, you posted this on Tumblr as well... TY TY TY TY TY

MANY more ppl need to see n read this. BECAUSE, whatever rights or options or do-overs you think you have due you, this fact is MEDICALLY PROVEN...

Abortion STOPS A BEATING 💓🙏💔😇PLEASE don't murder God's Miracles...

OH WAIT... Before someone out there goes off on me because they just ASSume I have no stake in this, don't know what I'm talking about, or think I'm trying to kidnap their uterus... LISTEN UP... PLEASE, & I am NOT calling anyone out of their name, so let's see if we can possibly just stay on track with facts, for once, & not behave like bullies...

I do TY in advance for that...

I gave birth to 4 children, 2 were full term, 1 was "overbaked" family funny there, & 1 was extremely premature (especially for it being the 80's when they knew far less about premature infants) I also have suffered thru multiple miscarriages, & yep BIG DIFF between that happening to a woman & calling for an appt to end things on purpose... Every miscarriage I went thru made ME feel the same way I'd have felt, had I lost any of my living children (like stillbirth), they were ALL DEVASTATING LOSSES... Of my 4 who were born & lived, they are on this earth because my mama raised me to believe, once I am pregnant, planned OR unplanned, it is (in my heart & belief system) God's will, God's miracle, God's choice & MY DUTY... I don't wish to get into ANY debate with ANYONE over religion. Please NOOOO I've still not recovered from my recent political trauma, so have some mercy... So there I was in 4 different situations, at various times between 17 & 30 years old, in my doctors office, being given the news... This part pretty much kills me emotionally, because if only you could step into MY BELIEF SYSTEM for one little minute, please try, IF you were brought up that way, & fully believed that, to have a medical doctor (well 4 actually) not SUGGEST, but almost INSIST you go kill your unborn child you just found out about !!!!!

See... I happened to be born with a rare congenital disorder, which can transfer from mama to baby, BUT rather than even ASK ME about any CHOICE I might want to make, they was ready to pack me off to what I CONSIDER paid killers... If they had bothered to ask me, I could easily have shared that I believe in God, that for whatever reason, (I cannot know in this lifetime) allowed me to be born with this congenital disorder... so MY MIND & HEART reasons this way... out of my mom's 4 kids, only me & 1 brother had/have it, other brother & sister, nary a sign, just fine... Now God allowed me to have it, BUT HE also allowed me to get pregnant with my child... can't you just suppose (pretend again if you must) but if this ALL KNOWING GREATER POWER, I call God allowed BOTH of those occurrences to take place, MAYBE it was so I NEEDED to place my faith in Him? That is what was required, that is what was in my prayers, "Please Father God, just take care of my baby & help me be strong, whatever Your will." When I was a little kiddo, by the way, there was no medical test for my congenital disorder... back then, you got diagnosed by certain characteristics of the anatomy, having to do with skeletal system, cardiac system, vision, & muscular systems. So that is how my brother & I were diagnosed... nobody knows before my dear mom who else may have had it, because really nothing was specifically known 2 generations prior... Yes, my mom died when I was 17, as a direct result of this condition, in fact it was literally ONE WEEK before I discovered I was pregnant, so think again (as me) I am a teenager, just lost my mom last week, then found out I am pregnant, & a medical doctor (who knew those facts by the way) is suggesting I go murder what became my beautiful daughter, not to mention the mama of my ONLY grandchild... My daughter became my shining beam of sunlight & life, thru the death of my mom, helping me have good reason to get thru some of the most difficult days of loss I ever felt... So, anyone out there wanna clue me in about MY CHOICE... Well, that's OK, I only had ONE choice because my Bible instructs me, "Thou shalt not kill", & I assure you there is no clause or addendum attached to that COMMANDMENT that says

A. Unless this is inconvenient for you... B. Unless you have no faith in Me to care... C. Unless you are concerned about money...

Naaaaa... no such deals, not for me, & not for billions of other people raised with similar beliefs, in a menagerie of various religious belief systems... so is it that hard to believe that while there are SOME OUT THERE, I'm sure who simply don't believe in God, but are ONLY bent on stealing your RIGHTS... Don't you think there's a LOT who simply feel it is our God given duty to try & stop what we view as one of the worst crimes against humanity? Is it possible? Cause I'm nice, I swear, I'm not out to get anyone... but when I've spent 30 odd years working in the health industry, & I am so beyond aware of the medical facts, & ALL OF THEM in my eyes, PROVE LIFE FROM CONCEPTION but when I first learned about things like "partial birth abortion" I am HORRIFIED !!! & no, I'm not just saying everyone is going to carry almost to term, or to term in some instances, & then grab the long surgical scissors, (I mean the BRAIN SCRAMBLER) & by the way, that IS DEFINATELY NOT why we are born with a soft spot... but to me, if it's 6 weeks, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, months, no matter, it is the KILLING of a human who is completely unable to defend itself, NOBODY is giving these kids a choice, they call em slimeblobs, to be able to live with it IMO...

I've been there, I HAVE lived it, 1 of my 4 was (possibly) the result of rape, because that happened to me, just around the time I got pregnant... we just did not know until after birth when it could be proven one way or the other, & yes, THANK GOD she ultimately wasn't the rapists child, but I promise you as God is my witness, had I known THEN, like I wasn't in my relationship, so I KNEW... I still could never have ended her life... medical facts DO PROVE life begins at conception, the medical field simply use various terms, to show what point things are at, so even if embryo or fetus sounds like blob to you, it's not, not at all, & if you only be selfless for a little while, my point is beyond proven... NOTHING that isn't alive has a heartbeat or organs forming more each day, & the scientific list goes on...

My brother, who was also born with my same congenital issues, passed away in his early 40s as a direct result of the condition... so does that mean he had nothing to offer this world in his 4 decades? Nowadays, they developed a blood test that gives a definitive yes/no answer about what I live with. There is no more figuring it out from aspects of your anatomy... I've now surpassed the age my brother & mother passed away at, about to be 58 in the spring... I don't know how or why my Father in heaven has kept me going this long, I assure you, I am far from healthy, but I like to think I contributed a LOT of good, in my time here, & I'm blessed my mom didn't just think, "Aww screw it, she might be born all messed up." & do me in... Had that happened, this world would also be (probably) without any of my 3 siblings, their children, grandchildren & and great-grandchildren, without my 4, & without my grandson... & By the way, my kids had the blood test that now exists, NONE of them have it... so I'd have also murdered them pointlessly, had I listened to the doctors...

I'm done, I pray I made an impact with SOMEBODY SOMEWHERE, I pray I at least make others think & reason things through...

God Bless & Keep You, & may He protect those who can't protect themselves, 🙏😇

[dumpywrites]

Trophy Boy - Jeon Jungkook

Prompt: Beauty privilege exists, that's why you're selling your hot best friend.

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, model! Jungkook, soft! Jungkook, office worker reader

Pairing: Jungkook x she/her reader

a/n: softie and goofy Jungkook is my weakness! and I know ya'll feel the same way :)

Yet another busy day at the office. You were sitting down in a slumped position in your cubicle, something you should probably change or would regret in the future. The hot air was not helping you at all and you were starting to sweat through your stripped shirt, despite the air conditioner being on full blast. 

Boss just entered the room with the not-so-short rant targeted specifically to the marketing team. Apparently interest in buying plain tees and other basic fashion items were not the greatest at the moment, but if you actually were to be frank, it was more on the brand you were working at. Your boss was blaming things left and right, trying to find excuses to cope with his current losses. 

The thing was with the big guy, was that he wanted huge impact while spending the smallest amount he could possibly afford. It was a somewhat clever business decision in terms of saving cost, but sometimes people just needed that extra boom. That go big or go home. If your boss wanted his brand to reach a new market of people, he needed to brave himself for greater risks. 

“Sir, maybe we do need to endorse some big name influencers to help boost our social media exposure.” One of your co-workers spoke up. 

“We cannot afford millions just for a few Instagram stories, moreover they charge more for a simple photoshoots.” Your boss replied with a groan. 

“Sir, but if you look at how Calvin Klein promote their stuff, we obviously need some good looking people wearing and demonstrating how good our products could be.” The guy retorted. “Good looking people make basic items look good. That’s literally what they do.” 

“Good looking people cost a lot, Hoseok. If you could somehow find me a drop dead gorgeous guy who would somehow accept anything under thirty dollars per hour, we’ll talk.” And with that the man walked out from the room. 

“Well good luck on that, I guess.” Hoseok rolled his eyes with a smirk. 

“At this rate you’re gonna get kick out.” You eyed the guy next to you. “We don’t want that, remember? We need you resigning with class, so that you don’t get a bad rep???”

“That man needs to know that whatever boomer shit we’re doing here, ain’t gonna boost our sales!” He protested. “You could buy plain white t-shirts anywhere, what makes us special?!”

“True.” You sighed. “I even heard the design team complaining about this.”

“If only we could afford that one handsome mukbang streamer who is everywhere right now.” Hoseok sighed along with you. 

“If you could magically make Kim Seokjin to accept three hundred per hour I would literally worship you.” 

“Do you maybe have any hot friends?” 

“God, I don’t know?! Do you??? I don’t have any friends who are influencers or anything.” 

“Can I see any group photos you have? They don’t have to be an influencer. Just gotta be good looking enough. The rest can be helped through styling.” Hoseok scooted closer. 

“You sound crazy.” You eyed the guy, shaking your head. “Are we that desperate?!”

“Hey, maybe doing this could help me get that recommendation letter, you know?” Hoseok said smugly. “Now let me look through your friend group…”

“If you wanted a decent looking guy that we could revamp by styling later, Yoongi literally exists.” You said, suggesting the tech-support guy. 

“He’s short. Although I get your point, would he even be willing to do so without actually killing any of us???”

“Fair enough.” You laughed. “Here, I don’t know, take a look at my friends, I guess…”You handed him your phone. 

The picture you flashed on your phone screen was from a recent dinner hangout you had with your group friend of five. Hoseok throughly scanned the photo as if he was doing some detective work. It did not take him too long before an idea popped and he snapped his fingers. He straightened his pose and moved his chair closer to you. 

“Who is this hunk with tattoos?!”

“Uh, that’s my friend Jungkook?” You eyed him suspiciously. “Don’t tell me—“

“He’s hot.”

You stopped and looked back to your co-worker’s direction. “He’s the most unserious person I know, we can’t—“

“But he’s hot.” Hoseok cut your sentence again. “He’s not like a model or something, right?”

“He’s a graphic designer…” You replied, unsure. 

“Perfect! That means he won’t mind us underpaying him.” He smirked. “Do not argue with me right now, I know you agree with me.”

You eyed the guy again, searching for doubt and found none. The guy was dead serious about this. 

“Fine.”

**

And that was how you found yourself assisting your friend for his now third photoshoot. After the first one being a huge success, your company kept asking for more content and for him to become their part time model. 

Obviously your friend’s beauty was no news for you. Jungkook had always been cute in your eyes alone, way before he discovered Pinterest and basic styling. You had known him for a few years, the friend group was built around university days after all, and you had seen him through thick and thin. Literally though, you saw him transformed from this scrawny boy to a gym bro right in front of you. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a few knocks at the door. You straightened your figure and told the person to enter. 

“Hi, Y/N!” 

It was Chaewon from design department. Her alongside with Jimin both work in the fashion area. While she designed the silhouettes, Jimin helped with the styling. Even though she was a normal employee like you, she actually was the CEO’s daughter. It was a known fact already, but she insisted to be treated the same as everyone else. 

“Hi, do you need something, Chaewon?” 

“I need to talk to you about something…” The girl said, looking nervous. She was fidgeting her fingertips and looking to other direction. 

“Sure, what is it?”

“Jungkook’s your friend, right?”

“Uh, yeah… why?”

“I really need your help.” She put her hands together above her head. “I need a plus one to a wedding.”

“And you need Jungkook to help you?” You looked at her questioningly. 

“Yes!” She said, nodding her head a few times. “Please, my ex is gonna be there.”

“I’m not sure if he’s willing—“

“I’ll pay.”

You froze and she continued again. 

“I overheard you talking to Hoseok that Jungkook’s not getting the pay he deserves because he’s new…“

“Chaewon, you don’t have to—“

“Please, just this once??? If it makes you feel better I’ll pay you both.” When you stopped she added. “Is five hundred enough? I’ll give you the same amount.” 

You gulped. So unlike her father, Chaewon was not at all stingy. Her offer sounded really tempting. While you wanted to say it sounded good in your head out of good conscious in you, because Jungkook deserved better pay, you also couldn’t lie to yourself that you needed the extra dollars at the moment. Accidentally dropping your phone from the stairs and having to replace the whole screen certainly did a dent to your savings. Not to mention how your car just broke down a month ago.

“I’ll… ask him.”

“Awesome. Let me know as soon as possible cause the wedding’s this weekend!” She smiled before exiting the room. 

You spent the next few hours contemplating with your inner debate. It sounded rather wrong, but there’s no harm if he agrees to it? You thought. 

“Hey, there!”

Speak of the devil. There he was, skipping through the office walking straight to your shared room. The muscle bunny, sometimes his duality scared you, how his facial expression and demeanor could switch in between takes and breaks. He looked effortlessly good with the brand’s blank white t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Let Jimin cook because he styled his hair wavy this time and it looked so good on him. 

“Hello to you too, Mr. Model.” You shook your head, smiling. “Done with the shoots?”

“Yep. I finished an hour earlier this time.” He leaned to your table with a grin on his lips. 

“You didn’t give Jimin and Chaewon a hard time, right?” You said, mentioning the design team. 

“Nope.” He giggled. “Chaewon even said that I’ve improved a lot and I barely need any pose references now.”

“That’s great.” You said with your eyes still glued to the computer screen. 

He hummed and took the empty seat next to you. He started flipping through his phone, not wanting to disturb you but also not wanting to leave.

“Aren’t you leaving? Hoseok’s meeting is done in like ten minutes. He’s gonna need that seat.” You pointed. 

He bit his inner cheeks. “What time are you finished?”

“At five? And you knew this already, stop asking.”

“Who knows if I keep asking, one day you’ll get to clock out earlier.” He shrugged. 

You chuckled. “You know you don’t have to wait up for me every single time.” 

“You got me the job, it’s only fair. Besides, I’m not doing photoshoots every single day.”

Yeah and they’re underpaying you. You sighed. “Kook, I want to ask you something…”

His eyes lit up as he perked up, looking to your direction like a puppy. He nodded eagerly with a smile, waiting for you. “Yeah?”

“Chaewon asked me if you’d be interested on being her plus one at a wedding?”

The excitement in his face dropped almost instantly. You could see his eyes frowned at the question thrown at him. 

“That’s weird. Why would she?”

“It’s a wedding and her ex is attending.” You explained. “She said she’ll pay.”

“Nah, that’s still fucked up though. Isn’t she the big boss’ daughter or something?!” He raised his eyebrows. 

“But she’ll pay.” You repeated. “She told me five hundred…”

“Oh shit.” He widened his eyes. “For real?!”

You nodded. “Just say yes, it’s literally just a one time thing.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ll help you out with everything.” 

He breathed out a sigh. “Alright, only if you’ll help me out.” 

“Great, I’ll let Chaewon know.” You turned your head quickly realizing Hoseok was already at the door. “Go home, don’t wait up for me.”

He shook his head and smile. “Okay, don’t forget to eat, yeah?” 

“I won’t. See ya, Kook.” 

He waved his hand to you with a big tooth-aching smile and headed towards the door. He briefly waved to Hoseok and the guy greeted him back before he went out. 

“How are you not dating that dude is beyond me.” Hoseok suddenly blurted as he calmly took his seat. 

You almost choked on nothing. “Excuse me?!”

“That boy is clearly into you. He basically waits for you every single time like an obedient dog.”

“Cause he’s my friend and I technically got him this job? He said it himself.”

“Sure.” He snickered, eyes immediately back to his computer screen. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“I will because that’s the truth.” You rolled your eyes and returned to your work. 

**

As promised, you found yourself accompanying Jungkook on a Saturday morning, helping him choosing a suit. Jimin was kind enough to recommend you a good place to rental one. Man only had baggy clothes and baggy clothes only in his wardrobe, and for sure they were not a good fit for a wedding.

“Have you asked Chaewon what color she’ll be wearing?” Jungkook asked as he browsed through the hanger. 

“Didn’t I gave you her number? You should talk to her you know, it’ll be less awkward.” 

The guy puffed his cheeks, pouting. “Dunno dude… It still feels kinda weird to me. I’ll rehearse when I pick her up.” 

“Oh, speaking of that. I’ve rented the car for you. It’s a Lexus.”

“Couldn’t afford a Porche or some?” 

“I figured we don’t need to be that flashy.”

“I was joking.” Jungkook sighed with a smile. “It’s always straight up business with you, huh?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” You looked at him for a second, but proofing him right as your eyes quickly moved to the loafer shoes at the shelf. “I think these could go well with your suit.” 

The man sighed again with a defeated smile on his face as he took the loader to try them on. “This is fun too, I guess…”

“You mean renting an outfit and cosplaying as a rich person?” You quirked your eyebrow and grinned. 

“No, I mean hanging out with you like this, silly. When was even the last time we hangout like this?” He chuckled, jumping up and down as he tried the shoes. “Would you look at that, I could probably dance in these!” 

“We’ll take those then.” You gestured him to take them off and he did so. “I don’t know, back in college??? Back then when I helped you buying an outfit for—“

“Don’t!” With his eyes widened he immediately stopped you from finishing your sentence. 

“Why?” You laughed. 

“Do not even man… that was so embarrassing.” He covered his face. “My confidence level was through the roof thinking I could win someone with a bowl cut.”

“Hey, that bowl cut wasn’t so bad!” You chuckled. “Aww, I suddenly missed the cute and innocent looking Jungkookie…”

“You mean I don’t look cute and innocent anymore?” He batted his eyelashes at you jokingly. 

“Taehyung thought you were a drug dealer when he first met you.” You folded your arms. 

“He’s a judgmental person.” He clicked his tongue. “I am in fact still cute, you need to accept that.”

“Sure.” You giggled and patted him right in his tatted bicep. 

There were some audible protests coming from your friend, but you let him be as you paid for the rented clothings and footwear. 

After making sure all things were set, you texted Chaewon to double check on the time and place, as well as asking her on whether there was a specific topic she wanted to talk or not to talk. Jungkook still refused to call her or even text her personally, which is a bit annoying, but at the end of the day you were also getting that paycheck so you couldn’t complain too much, since Jungkook was the main performer in this after all. 

“All good?” You asked him. 

“Do you think I should take off my lip piercings?” He said, looking at the mirror. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Chaewon already knows what she’s doing when she asked for you.” 

“She specifically wants a bad boy for a plus one?” 

“Now who says you’re a bad boy?”

“I thought we just had a talk about how I don’t look cute and innocent anymore???” He turned to face you. “Although, I’m not a believer but that’s your statement.” He shrugged with a big smirk on his lips. 

“Your exterior yes, but you’re not fooling anyone with your personality, my guy. You’re a softie.” You chuckled and moved closer to fix his crooked tie.

A genuine smile was visible on his face. “Glad to hear that.” 

Seeing his smile instantly made you did as well. “Nervous?”

“Me? Nah, never.” He dismissed. 

“Of course.” You giggled. “Go, we’re so gonna try that new Japanese restaurant after this!”

And the party went well. Apparently Jungkook impressed all of Chaewon’s friends, even though they were not the main target and some were even aware of the agreement. Most importantly, he got her ex’s attention. He got the guy approaching, introducing himself, and seemingly pissed when Jungkook decided not to reveal his name to him in return. 

In conclusion, Chaewon had a great time and both of you were paid handsomely. Oh, that wagyu beef you had together afterwards sure was delicious! 

**

“I may need to borrow Jungkook again.” 

You stared at the lady in front of you, fazed. Chaewon had just stopped you right after work, just randomly popping the sentence out of nowhere. You were not too sure how to react. 

“I’ll pay again! Don’t worry.” She giggled nervously. “It’s just that, my parents actually think it’s good if I have someone with me to attend a shareholder party…” 

“I see.” Was all you could say. 

“They don’t know I’m paying both of you but they do think he’s one good looking arm candy…”

You sure did not like how she phrased that. 

“It’ll be quicker than the wedding, it’s just a small dinner.” She reasoned again. “Can you ask Jungkook?”

“Why don’t you?” You cleared your throat quickly after realizing how that might sound rude. “I mean, you could just ask him?”

“I don’t think he’s that comfortable with me… He also talked to me through you, no? Please, I really need your help.” 

“I…” The thought of your unfinished car payment started to fill your mind again. “I’ll talk to him.” 

“I’m counting on you.” She quickly reached for your hand and shook it vigorously. “And uh, keep it between us but I think you’ll be getting a raise next month with your contribution and all.” She winked before leaving you. 

The whole ride back home got you thinking deeply. Mostly considering your morals and common sense. Sure it was easy money on your part, and while Jungkook himself had not shown major complaints, you couldn’t help but to feel awful. You then decided to give him a call.

“Ye?” The guy on the other line sounded like he had food inside his mouth as he spoke. 

“You busy?” 

“Wait.” He said, seemingly taking his time to swallow. “No, I was just catching up on Squid Game with Bam. What’s up?”

“Chaewon kinda asked for your help again.” 

“Huh?” He voiced, followed by an upcoming video call notification. 

“Wait, do you really have to video call right now???” You swore you almost laughed, this man could be out of this world sometimes. 

“I need your live reaction.” He chuckled. “And Bam too! Don’t you miss him?”

“Shit, hold on.” You quickly took a peek at your reflection in the mirror, making sure your at home appearance was at least presentable before you accept the call request. “You are so weird, you know that?”

“I’m aware.” He laughed and took his dog’s paw to playfully wave at you, making you smile. 

“So uh, about Chaewon…”

“Oh yeah, that.” He frowned. “Do I need to go to another wedding? Damn, people must really care about the declining birth rate…”

“Her parents apparently wanted her to go to a dinner with the shareholders.” You controlled yourself not to make any weird expression, thinking about the word eye-candy Chaewon called him still rubbed you the wrong way. 

“Oh, am I gonna get introduced as a model?” He beamed. “That’d be cool.” 

“I don’t know.” You said, trying not to sound discouraging. “She’s gonna pay again though…”

“Ah…” He nodded, biting his inner cheeks. “I kinda need me a new camera…” 

“So?”

“Yeah, why the heck not.” He shrugged. “Does this mean we’ll get another makeover montage moment though???”

“We don’t need to rent a suit for this but I’ll help you out with your outfit choices, I guess.” 

“Cool, it’s a date then?”

You looked at him a bit weirded out but man just flashed you a big grin like it was nothing. 

“What?! I mean it’s kinda like a date since I don’t have to dress all formal.” He chuckled. 

“Of course.” You rolled your eyes. 

“I wonder though, I’m not one to judge but can’t she have anyone, I don’t know… more normal?” He then threw a cheeto in his mouth, snacking on it. “She’s a rich girl who’s also conveniently good looking. I’m sure there’s someone willing to go without payment.”

“You think she’s pretty?”

“I mean yeah.” He said, casually crunching on another cheeto. 

You didn’t know why a random opinion of his bothered you somehow, but you decided to shoo the thoughts away. “I don’t know but I think you’re underestimating the power you hold here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jungkook, you are aware that you’re hot, right?” That might be too bold of you, but you were feeling a bit frisky. 

“Oooh~” He laughed giddily. “Didn’t know you think of me that way but thank you.” 

“Don’t play dumb, I wouldn’t offer you the job if I thought otherwise.” 

“I’m so telling the others. They need to know that you find me hot.” 

“Jungkook, what the hell—“

“Matter of fact, I’m gonna invite Taehyung to this call…” He snickered. 

“What?! No!” You quickly pressed the end call button out of panic. 

A text notification showed up immediately after the line ended, filled with a bunch of laughing emojis, saying that he was just joking and that he would see you on the next photoshoot. You wondered what made your heart doing summersaults but it did for a moment. 

**

“What do girls even like?” Jungkook asked you as he put on his leather jacket. “I probably won’t need this since I won’t be riding my bike, huh?”

You were sitting on his bed, one which had a few clothings messily displayed. It was an off day but you needed to help him with his outfit for another “gig” with Chaewon. The supposed job was not until the next day, but you had to visit your family hence why you were meeting a day prior. To be frank, you didn’t think he even needed you, considering you knew how he dressed on daily basis, but somehow he kept insisting that he needed your opinion as a woman, his words not yours. 

“Just be yourself.” You said as you looked at him from top to bottom. “Do not loose the jacket, it’s nice.” 

He put the outer back on, admiring at his reflection on the mirror. “You think?”

“I’m sure you go on a lot of dates… I assumed.” You gave him a look. 

“Oh, you think so?” He chuckled. 

You looked at him suspiciously. “I don’t know? It’s not like I know your private life like that. When was the last time you went out on a date?”

“Hmm.” He tapped his chin in a comical way. “Last month, I think?”

You almost asked on why you hadn’t heard any of it, but you felt like it wasn’t your place to. “Oh? How was it?”

“It was okay-ish.” He shrugged. “I think she liked me I dunno…”

“You seem disinterested.” 

“You gotta try dating apps man… it drains you so much mentally to the point you start thinking everyone’s the same and nothing really matters.” He laughed. 

“You sure you’re not exaggerating?” 

“Maybe I am just a bit.” He chuckled. “But man… I’m so fed up with people!” He said, joining you sitting down on his bed. 

“Then why don’t you just delete the app?” 

He shrugged. “At the end of the day I’m still a human being who needs someone. It gets lonely sometimes.” 

“I wanna say working is a great distraction but let’s be honest it’s not.” You shook your head. 

“What ever happened to that guy that Namjoon introduced you to?” 

“Didn’t quite worked out. Plus, that was like what, five months ago??? Keep up with the news, please.” You laughed. 

“And no one told me?!” He looked at you, pretending to be offended. 

“It’s not exactly the most interesting story to tell… He’s a nice guy but two weeks into knowing him, he had to move to Singapore for a job.”

“Damn, that’s sad.” He clicked his tongue. 

“He’s not exactly my type anyways.” You chuckled. 

Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows, instantly getting a judgy look from you. “How exactly is your type then?”

“I like my men like I like my food.”

“Girlie, you eat anything.” Jungkook slanted his eyes. 

“Exactly, I’m not picky. As long as they’re honest and kind… I guess.”

He booed. “That’s boring.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Hey, I’m a simple person. And in today’s world it’s hard to find someone who has those traits, you know?” You hit his arm. “What about you? Being a model and all now must have set a new standard for you, huh?”

He laughed. “Nah, I don’t really have a type either. I just want someone who matches my freak.”

“That’s gotta be hard.” You giggled. 

“Hopefully not.” He grinned. “I mean, you kinda do…” He looked up at the ceiling, playfully whistling. 

“Aww, Kookie~” You cooed, teasing him. 

“I’m not joking.” He furrowed his brows like a kid. 

“Of course not.” You chuckled and ruffled his already messy hair. 

Jungkook protested and grabbed your wrist to stop you, but for a moment both of you stopped at eye level, just looking into each other. Your teasing grin slowly faded to be replaced with a tense gaze. The dark round pair of orbs were now staring into your eyes. 

Your mind was short circuiting when he suddenly moved closer. Your eyes squinted shut immediately, but nothing really happened after that. Jungkook just laughed it out and softly pushed you off him.

**

After the second agreement ended successfully, Chaewon had decided to come back yet again asking for Jungkook’s help. For sure she couldn’t be having that many social events to attend to, but apparently she did. This time, she needed him for her school reunion, said that it’d bad for her rep to show up alone after introducing him to her so-called friends just recently. 

This time, you were at your limit though. You weren’t so sure how Jungkook felt about the whole ordeal, but you on the other hand felt terrible. You could not just keep continuing and pretending like you weren’t basically selling your friend for money. And so after taking a deep breath, you politely rejected her offer. 

“Oh, come on! It’ll be the last time! Please???”She pleaded. 

“You need to ask him then, and uh… if he ends up agreeing you don’t have to pay me anymore. I kinda feel bad….”

“Guess I have to ask him myself then.” She heaved a sigh. “I’ll ask him after his photoshoot today.”

“I don’t mean to offend you in any way though, I just feel like I’m exploiting him.”

“No, don’t worry I get it.” She smiled, waving her hand in front of her face. 

When you arrived at the set the photoshoot was nearly on its end. As usual you get to monitor a bit and asked the staff about the progress. What was odd and new to you was seeing Chaewon being touchy with Jungkook. You knew she was a stylist and it was her job to take care of his looks during the shoot, but the high pitch laughs? Did she really need to touch his hair like that? And why did Jungkook seemed fine and joked back with her. The photographer definitely did not have to say that they look good together too. 

You did not hear anything from Jungkook after his photoshoot. You were busy with your job, mostly trying to distract yourself from the fact that you were too scared to ask the guy, you were even too anxious to meet him just at the thought of him finding out about your agreement. You didn’t get the chance to find out the event but kept wondering if he had agreed or not. Seeing how friendly they were today, maybe he did say yes to it. 

You also wondered since when did you start feeling jealous over this whole situation. Maybe that one moment between you and Jungkook that day really did something to you. He was about to kiss you, wasn’t he? Or maybe you were just going crazy. 

Funny enough, you thought the lad had went home straight after his photoshoot, but he surprised you with two cups of boba in his hands right after work. 

“You’re still here?!” You were surprised. 

“I didn’t wanna bother you, you seemed very focused today.” He giggled and handed you one of the drinks. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and finish the drink, I’ll take you home after.”

You gulped, the anxiety starting to consume you again. “O-Okay.”

Jungkook seemed to notice the nervousness in the tone of your voice as he looked at you, but he didn’t say anything. You two walked towards a nearby bench outside the building and sat down. It was chilly and you could see the wind blowing his hair nicely, making him look straight out of a movie scene. 

“Thanks… for the boba.” You said, a little nervous. 

“Chaewon kinda gave me an offer again…” 

“Oh.” You said, avoiding his eyes. “How did that go?”

“I don’t know I’m still thinking about it.”

“I see.” You said, trying not to sound too unenthusiastic about it. 

“She said you don’t wanna be involved anymore though.” He stopped walking. “Did I do something wrong??? If it’s about what happened last time I’m terribly sorry…”

“No! Jungkook, you’re not the one who should be apologizing here!” You sighed. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find yourself to explain further. “You should just say yes, it literally means no harm.”

“But why don’t you wanna help out anymore?!”

One thing about Jungkook was that he sure was one hell of a hard headed man. 

“I just have more stuff I need to handle outside work and I don’t have the time.” You lied. 

Jungkook looked at you with doubt but nodded anyway. “But we’re okay though, right?”

The big round eyeballs were looking at you, as if pleading. Who would say no to that. 

**

At this point you were sure there was something wrong with you. 

You knew Jungkook had to come today for some extra footages. That was why you were trying your hardest to not leave your room and made yourself look busy. Hoseok seemed to notice your weird behavior but this time the man said nothing and let you be. 

You managed to avoid your friend for an insufferable few hours, until you had to go to relieve yourself. You saw Chaewon and Jimin first, but then the person who you were suppose to avoid popped out from the restroom, seemingly just done changing back to his own clothes. 

Your eyes met immediately and of course his first reaction was to flash you the brightest smile he could. You could tell there was a hint of awkwardness in it, but you didn’t want to further ponder on it. 

You waved back timidly, hurrying yourself to the toilet. You even spent a good ten minutes there, hoping they’d leave, but when you were done, Chaewon and Jungkook were still chatting in front. 

Chaewon smiled in defeat and grabbed you by your arm. “I just got rejected.” 

You widened your eyes and instantly jerked your head towards your friend. The guy only smiled in return. 

“Guess you guys are really a bundle, huh? Maybe I should consider asking our tech support guy.” She chuckled. 

“Why don’t you just date for real? I could introduce you to some guys.” Jungkook said. 

“No, not right now at least.” She giggled. “Too bad, you can’t help me anymore, it’s not exactly easy to find people who would just agree to this.”

“Really?” Jungkook voiced. “I thought you’ve done this before.”

“Why do you think I even paid your friend here just so you could say yes?” She laughed, not knowing the information she had just revealed. 

“Oh, you also got paid?”

“Excuse me, if you guys don’t mind I still got work left undone.” 

Without looking back you quickly escaped the scene and half-ran to your room. Neither of them came looking for you afterwards so you assumed you were at least safe for the day. 

That was again until you saw a certain Bambi eyed, boba ball looking man waiting for you at the front entrance. 

“You finished early today.” He waved. “Wanna get some corndog? I—“

“Jungkook, why aren’t you mad at me?”

The guy looked at you for a second before speaking. “Why should I be angry at you again?”

You sighed. “I got paid without you knowing. I basically sold you.” You looked away, trying to control your emotion. 

You heard his sigh and his shoulders drooped as he walked closer to you. “No, you didn’t. I also got paid and I enjoyed doing the job.”

“If you enjoyed it then what’s the difference if I’m involved or not? I’m sure you don’t need my help.”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” He took a last sip of the drink in his hand before setting it aside. “I only agreed just so I can spend time with you more, dummy.”

You were lost of words.

“I thought having a crush on you was a phase but it turns out I really do like you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh dear, I hope I’m not making this weird for you.” He chuckled nervously. 

Your mouth went slightly ajar as you froze in place. Jungkook liked you? 

“I’m sorry again for that day. I tried to kiss you, it was weird and you seemed really scared. I still can’t get that image out of my head.” Seeing you being all silent he started to panic. “Say something… please.” 

You were still processing the whole thing. First thing your friend having feelings for you, second being you seemingly discovering that you were not opposed to the idea and your heart was beating so fast it could explode in any moment. So the weird feeling you had been feeling the past few days, weeks even, was something after all. 

You looked up at him, eyes almost teary. “Hold on let me process this.” 

“I’m so sorry, you don’t have to say anything back! I’m just gonna go—“ 

“I like you too.” You shyly smiled. 

“Oh.” The guy’s cheeks turned pink as he giddily smiled back. “That’s nice…” 

“Uh huh.” You giggled. 

“So, wanna hold hands?” He looked away as he offered his hand to you. 

You expected him to be more on the confident playboy type now, guess you were wrong. Guess the same boy you knew still existed. 

You smiled, cheeks turning red as well as you took his hand. “You are such a nerd.” 

Both of you walked hand in hand that night, feeling all warm inside despite the cold night air. 

Thank you for reading! 📸

[tea-writes19]

brother-in-law | b.b.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!parker!reader

summary: your brother peter tries to find you a boyfriend by posting an ad on instagram

warnings: swearing, fluff, suggestive content

a/n: my first smau + fic!!!! based on this fic by the lovely @pomegranatesarchive. fr it’s one of my fav smau’s and I don’t even follow f1😭

liked by mjjones, nedleeds, and others

peterparker: are you a young hot single in nyc? well meet y/n parker, my VERY single sister!! she enjoys cheap pizza, true crime, and long walks through central park! if you’re interested please comment down below…serious inquiries only!

view comments below

yourusername: peter wtf is this?!?

peterparker: I WANT A BROTHER! is that too much to ask for???

yourusername: NO!! JUST NO!! @/mayparker aunt may please take his phone!!

mayparker: sorry sweetie, but pete’s right. you’ve been really lonely and sad looking recently

yourusername: so the solution is to pimp me out?!?

peterparker: i will not be stopped

user1: i’m interested?

peterparker: no, too ugly

yourusername: PETER PLEASE

peterparker: i need them to at least look good in pics

mjjones: pete, y/n is going to kill you

yourusername: the bitch is hiding behind stark😡

peterparker: @/ me next time🤺

tonystark: please don’t drag me into this

user2: not bro literally selling his sister😭😭

user3: this is hilarious!

nedleeds: can you do this for me next?

peterparker: no you talk to people

user4: i’m interested!

peterparker: nah

yourusername: what’s the point if you’re just going to reject everyone?

peterparker: shhhh…let me work

yourusername: 🙄🙄

steverogers: what is happening?

peterparker: mr. america sir! are you interested?? y/n loves history! you’d be my first choice too!!

steverogers: uh no thanks…i’m too busy right now to think about dating

yourusername: not me getting rejected by CAPTAIN AMERICA in front of the world😭

user5: rip

user6: dude don’t you work with literal superheroes? ask them

user7: aren’t half of them married and in committed relationships?

user6: yeah but that still leaves the rest

user8: hey so this is insane!

user9: it’s kinda cute how much he cares about his sister

user9: weird too, but cute

peterparker: @/samwilson @/buckybarnes @/steverogers @/natasharomanoff @/joaquintorres @/mariahill @/wandamaximoff who’s interested?

mariahill: no thanks

samwilson: i’m good

steverogers: i already said no…

wandamaximoff: i’m dating vision so no

natasharomanoff: parker this is weird

joaquintorres: no thanks

yourusername: kill me now

user10: this was rough to read

user11: #savey/n from this torture

peterparker: okay, fine, i don’t care

tonystark: he cares

peterparker: on a completely different note @/buckybarnes i need help with a history essay. can you come over tomorrow?

buckybarnes: 👍

buckybarnes added to their story—>

[captain: what the fuck is a oligodendrocyte?]

story replies

steverogers: peter set you up didn’t he?

buckybarnes: he pulled the history essay thing

user12: omg is that y/n???

user13: peter’s post worked!?!

samwilson: man that kid got you good

liked by peterparker, buckybarnes, mjjones and others

yourusername: photo dump bc i graduate in a week!!!

view comments below

peterparker: no me?

yourusername: you lost post privileges after that stunt you pulled

peterparker: BUT IT WORKED OUT DIDN’T IT?!

user14: 👀👀👀

user15: who’s hand is that y/n!?!

user16: IS THAT ALPINE???

buckybarnes: the only person who can get alpine to cuddle

yourusername: i’m just chill like that😌

user17: HELLOOOO????

user18: fr like wdym peter was successful??

yourusername added to their story—>

[caption: 💐🤭]

story replies

user17: omg omg omg

user18: AHHHHHHHH

mjjones: peter is fangirling

liked by buckybarnes, mayparker, pepperpotts and others

yourusername: i graduated college!!!

view comments below

buckybarnes: congrats doll <3

yourusername: love you🫶🏻🫶🏻

user19: DOLL!?!?

user20: EVERYBODY STAY CALM IT’S HAPPENING

mayparker: so proud of you y/n!!!

yourusername: couldn’t have done it without you!!!

pepperpotts: congratulations y/n!

yourusername: thank you!!

user21: omg congrats!

user22: i feel like a proud parent rn🥹

peterparker: my favorite college grad

yourusername: bootlicker😐

peterparker: i take it back

peterparker: you’re the worst🖕

yourusername: love you too petey

tonystark: congrats kid

yourusername: thanks…now give me a job

tonystark: get better taste in men first

buckybarnes: that’s fair

steverogers: BUCKY

© tea-writes19 do not repost, translate, or copy

thank you for reading <3

[bomber-grl]

Kusuo Saiki Dating Headcanons

Pairing(s): Kusuo Saiki x Gn!Reader

It takes a really long time to get to the point where the two of you are dating. Like 100,000,000 words, slow burn, they finally kiss at the end– sort of fanfic. Honestly, I think Saiki’s a bit hesitant about relationships in general because they seem like a hassle. Everyone else is on thin ice already, the thought of putting effort into a relationship is exhausting enough.

Like with everyone else, he’s pretty indifferent toward you at first, and you only move up to "mild annoyance" status if you stick around long enough. Especially since he’s probably hearing all your thoughts, so there’s that.

Now, onto the actual headcanons. Saiki isn’t exactly the affectionate type. You two probably started as friends, mostly with you bothering him. Even after he realizes he likes you (though he really tries to hide it), nothing changes much. The difference is, you’re the only person he seems to tolerate. Everyone else wonders why you even bother with him.

Sometimes, Saiki gets... freaked out? There’s really no other way to put it. He’s used to being around people who are idiots, so when someone like you comes along—someone who’s rather perceptive—that’s a bit much for him. It messes with his head. Despite being able to hear your every thought, he starts wondering if you’re psychic too.

You can tell what he’s feeling, what he wants, and even do things for him. Sure, he could do all those things tenfold in just under a minute, but for some reason, he finds himself smiling. He even starts thinking fondly of you.

If you were another Nendou, though? He’d probably avoid you, and your relationship would be a slow burn that takes another 100,000,000 words and even worse edging (Not like that). But I digress. Saiki shows affection in subtle ways. Like remembering offhand comments you’ve made about your favorite snack or color.

He’s the type of guy who’ll subtly push your chair out of the way when you’re about to trip or pick up a dropped pen without you asking. He might not say much, but he’ll do whatever he can to make your life a little easier, even if he doesn’t directly tell you that.

I know it might sound like I’m painting him as a deadbeat bf, but honestly? He’d probably be a great boyfriend. He can literally hear your thoughts. He knows what you want, even before you say it. He’s seen (and heard) men ruin their relationships because they thought they knew their partner. So, when you want to grab a treat or have been wanting something that relates to an interest, he’ll know.

He’ll also know (and hear) if you slightly even think he’s good looking on a particular day. He’ll never admit it, of course, but if you get embarrassed thinking about it (since you know he can hear your thoughts), he secretly enjoys that. Seeing you flustered is one of his guilty pleasures—even though he’d never show it.

And yeah, Saiki’s protective. He won’t say it, and he won’t make a big show of it like other people would, but he does care. If something’s bothering you, he’ll subtly step in. Like if someone’s making you uncomfortable, he’ll use his telekinesis to, throw something at them or trip them up—whatever works, as long as no one knows it was him.

He doesn’t like people messing with you, and he won’t hesitate to shut them down, even if he keeps it minimal to avoid drawing attention to himself.

In this following scenario you're another Nendou. He hardly ever gets surprised. I mean, hearing everyone’s thoughts kind of ruins surprises, spoilers for a new tv show, honestly anything for him. But maybe—just maybe—the only way to startle or fluster him is by turning the tables on that. Maybe it’s the first time you show affection in your relationship.

Saiki’s not big on physical touch– we all know that much. If you want to hug him, go ahead, but he’ll probably just stand there like a statue. So, let’s say you somehow convince him to come over to your place, and then you, attempted subtly, suggest that you kiss him out of nowhere.

He’d choke on his drink and immediately try to cover it up. Forget not hearing your thoughts, he literally didn’t think you’d want to kiss him anytime soon. He won’t show it (obviously) but deep down, he’s definitely a little shaken.

Now, in the chance that you two do kiss, (which is chapters later– in fanfiction terms) he’s very hesitant? Like sure, he can destroy the entire Earth if he even wanted to but the idea is still startling. He thinks it over and once he agrees (which is the only kiss you’ll get until the next blue moon) he is admittedly worried.

He’s never kissed anyone, he never planned to so he tries to be collected like he always is. If a satellite suddenly went offline somewhere in space, well that’s nothing to do with him.

Also, an extra that isn’t a dating hc is that Saikis mom and dad love you so much, his dad literally asked if you were actually real which earned a side eye from Saiki. It does get annoying for Saiki, but he’s pretty glad you all get along.

[facultativeactivity]

Hmm, but why do they have a file then? Just because they were a human? Otherwise the file attribution theory suggests that the game generates a nubered Save File to any entity with enough DT to use it, be them humans, monsters or anything else, which works pretty nicely. Assuming that Chara didn't have the required level of Determination but still had a file muddies the waters quite the bit. It would mean that all humans are inherently born with Save Files, wheter they have enough Determination to use it or not. Monsters on the other hand born without Save Files but they can spontaneously generate one should they aquire enough DT.

While that works, and I'm not saying it can't be the case (also a Chara who lacks Determination is an amusing contrast with popular fanon) I think it's really not the only reasonable conclusion we can draw from canon.

For one, yeah, we know for sure that Saved data survives even if the file's owner loses the ability to Save and Load, but to my knowledge, we have no canon info on what's the case if the owner willingly gives up and, as Flowey puts it, lets the world move on without them.

When Frisk dies in the game we can't just sit back and watch how the rest of the timeline plays out without them before deciding to Load or not. It seams reasonable that it works similarly to other humans dying in universe too - time freezes in the moment of their death and they're given the choice to either Reload a Save or just leave. We know that Chara's Soul was conscious after their death, just like all the other human Souls are implied to keep at least some of their agency and personality after death, as we see in the Neutral Ending. We know that at least some of those humans (and presumably all of them) could Save and Load. So why don't they just do it?

Well, because they already given up. I think for a human Soul to stay behind and be able to be absorbed by a monster, the human has to give up first - that is, die, then renounce their power they have over the timeline, which presumably all six children before Frisk did at some point.

What's up with the empty Save File then? If Chara could (and probably did) save in their life then where is that data?

Let me get even more meta here.

Let's say you just got your butt kicked the seventh times by Whosua and Aaron Sans that day and you had eough. You quit the game and go and do literally anything else. A day, a week or a month later you come back, open the game, and you're still able to continue from where you left off. Time obviously didn't move in the game world.

It can't. Not as long as you have your Save data. Even if you never come back, as long as there's only a theorethical chance of you wanting to continue, that universe in that 640x480 window will wait, perfectly stay, for your return.

So, for Chara's plan to work, for Asriel to be able to absorb their Soul Chara had to make the greatest sacrfice: not just giving up their life, but all the power and control they ever had, bringing themself down from a Player toying with the word and the people within, into a mere Character within its story. And the only way to do that would be to erase their Save data.

(Which again, the other six humans had to do as well. Kind of makes sense - while being in a heart in a jar is not very exciting, it probably beats staring at the Game Over screen. Assuming they all hit an obstacle they couldn't avoid, neither bypass, they probably just grew frustrated and wanted it all to be someone else's problem.)

For why neither Chara, nor Asriel reloaded after their plans went awry, despite being access to both a perfectly good Safe File and more than enough Determination to do it, there are several possible explanations. Following the logic earlier, Chara probably couldn't do it on their own, as they already given up. Asriel might have had the ability to do it, but he had no experience with this power, and he might have been wary using it especially if Chara tried to push him to do so. But honestly, I don't think any of them really wanted to do it. At the end of the No Mercy route, Chara admits to being confused about their own resurrection, since their plan already failed. And the monsters in New Home on a Neutral Route describe Asriel as dying with a smile. Whatever went down between them while fighting for the control of their body, it was a heavy blow to their friendship, and after seeing how disastrously their schemes ended, I don't think they wanted to keep existing trapped in a shared body.

Chara did not have the SAVE power when they were alive

In Undertale, all humans have high amounts of determination compared to monsters.

Considering that Frisk has it, and that it is hinted on multiple occasions that some if not all of the fallen humans also once had that power, one would assume that the answer to the question of wether Chara once had the power to most likely be yes.

But… Looking at it with more attention, its far from being so simple.

For instance, Flowey has been heavily projecting his views and actions on Chara’s past ones. Had Chara been SAVING and LOADING in life, it would seem really very unlikely that Flowey would have never reflected on things Chara did in the past and concluded that they must have been like him too on that regard. He did this regarding many things which Chara did not even really do, would he really have missed something he knows the signs of so well and would have been so glad to pin on Chara if it had it actually been true ?

Well, there are actually a number of things that suggest that Chara did not actually SAVE/LOAD at all during life.

(Note : A lot of the following evidence for this comes from file attribution theory. I would suggest reading that post first in order to understand what’s said in this one better)

Keep reading

[bestalbertcamuslover]

"if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers"

↳ Masterlist

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✯ pairing:  Sebastian Vettel x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: none ✯

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She knew this moment would eventually come. He had suggested going back to his place for a drink after yet another wonderful date, and it was clear what that implied. Under different circumstances, she would have been more than eager—but instead, she felt terrified. Not of the act itself, but of whether she was any good at it.

Only a few months ago, she had been dating a friend of a friend. He was smart, handsome, and, more importantly, interesting—very interesting. Their dates were filled with amazing conversations, but when it came to the intimate part, he thought otherwise—and he was very vocal about it. That became the dealbreaker, and it planted a deep seed of insecurity in her.

Her chest rose and fell in sync with her breath, still catching up to reality, still trying to piece together the sensations coursing through her body. She felt warm, her skin sensitive, her limbs pleasantly heavy. And yet, beneath all of it, a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts she had tried so hard to ignore.

Sebastian lay beside her, his arm lazily draped over her waist, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on her bare hip. He looked utterly at ease—relaxed, content, and maybe just a little smug in that effortless way he had.

She turned her head toward him, studying him in the dim light. The mess of his hair, the slope of his nose, the way his lips still looked slightly swollen—it was all so effortless, so natural. He looked like someone who had absolutely no doubts. Meanwhile, she felt like she was buzzing with them.

Sebastian must have sensed her gaze because, after a moment, his hand stilled, and he cracked one eye open. “What’s that look for?” His voice was low, laced with curiosity and a hint of amusement.

She blinked, feigning innocence. “What look?”

His lips twitched. “The one you’re giving me right now.” He chuckled lightly, shifting slightly so that he could look at her more directly. “Like you're looking for something,” he replied, his fingers still tracing light patterns against her skin. “Or like you're expecting something.”

“Maybe some comments on what just happened,” she grinned, trying to sound as if she was joking, but she really wanted to hear what he thought about it.

Sebastian's expression softened, and he shifted so that he was propped up on one elbow, facing her. “Comments?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of comments?” His fingers were still moving over her skin, gently tracing the curves of her waist and hips. “You want me to rate the experience on a scale of one to ten or something?” he teased, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

She chuckled slightly. “Perhaps.”

Sebastian's smirk widened slightly at her response, and he chuckled as well. “Well, in that case,” he said, his free hand coming up to trail lightly up her arm, “I'd give it a solid nine. Maybe even a nine-point-five.” He paused for a moment before adding, “But I do have one complaint.”

“What is it?” She asked, expecting the worst.

He leaned in closer as he replied, “I think you should have said my name louder.” He winked, a wicked grin plastered on his face. “I mean, I know I was pretty great, but I want everyone on the entire top floor to know it too.”

Her soft chuckle in response to his words made him smile. Yet, she still looked unconvinced—doubtful and worried, as if someone were whispering contradictions into her ear through a hidden earpiece.

Sebastian's expression turned slightly more serious, and he gently cupped her face in his hand, his thumb rubbing over her cheek. “Why do you seem so... uncertain about this?” he asked, his voice gentle. “It's like you're waiting for me to tell you that it wasn't good, or that you weren't good.”

“It's literally nothing, I was just wondering whether, um, you liked it,” she replied as lightly as possible, “since it is our first time.”

Sebastian paused, his hand stilling on her waist as he processed your words. He frowned slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at her face, hoping to glean some hint of your true feelings.

“Of course I liked it,” he said, his voice soft. “Why would you think I didn’t?”

“I don't know,” she said again with feigned casualness, “some couples just don't have bed chem” she explained, and despite the pretended nonchalance, it was clear that there was some sort of personal experience, insecurity, and vulnerability behind it.

Sebastian caught the not-so-subtle note of vulnerability, the hint of dread behind her words, and it broke his heart a little. He could tell there was more to this than just a casual, passing comment. And he knew her well enough to know that when she was hurt—really hurt—she tended to try and downplay it, brush it off like it was nothing.

He moved closer to her, his arm resting possessively over her waist. His next words were quiet, sincere. “Did… someone ever say that to you?”

“I said some couples, not that it had happened to me,” she replied softly, avoiding his gaze more than once.

He moved even closer, his body pressing against hers. His touch was light, his fingers tracing the outline of her jawline. “I know you’re lying,” he murmured, his voice filled with a soft mixture of concern and gentle reproach. “Don’t try to pull that with me.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe is based on a personal experience,” she admitted softly.

He let out a slow exhalation, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes, could feel the weight of those experiences hanging over her.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” he said softly. “I want you to be able to talk to me about things. Especially hard things.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, maybe I’m a little insecure about it because my ex said—and I’m quoting word for word—‘if the sex was half as good as the conversation, we’d soon be pushin’ strollers.’ But, yeah, then, it was over,” she admitted, trying to say it as lightly as possible, as if it didn’t affect her much.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

His hand slid to her cheek, tilting her face toward him, his eyes scanning hers like he needed to confirm that she was really being serious.

“Well,” he said, voice firm but teasing, “either your ex had absolutely no idea what he was doing, or he was just trying to make himself feel better.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Seb—”

“No, really,” he insisted, shaking his head, his lips curving into a slow, incredulous grin. “Because if that was you being bad at it, then I’m terrified of what happens when you decide to be good at it.”

She laughed slightly then, genuinely, and his grip on her tightened as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “You were incredible,” he murmured, his lips moving down to her jaw, then her neck. “And if you ever need more proof…” He smirked against her skin. “I’d be happy to demonstrate again.”

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✯ authors note: This is very random lol

English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[melercies]

imagine this...

pairing(s): nam-gyu x pinkguard!reader (specifically triangle) x thanos imagine

warning(s): gender-neutral reader(!!), slightly suggestive at the end. Read at your own risk, intended use of lowercase. my best interpretation of these two characters.

author's note: I PULLED UP BOTH OF THEIR WIKIS TO READ AND TRY GET THEIR CHARACTERS FROM THEIR PERSONALITY. i remembered that i had request this as an anon towards someone's blog (specifically midnite-c6; heavily inspired by their incredible writing), and figured to emphasize it with some ideas of my own. i'm grateful for them for writing it. I did give a subtle background for the reader too. :) Please let me know if I missed anything. Likes, Reblogs and Comments are highly appreciated!

you were simply just like any other ordinary pink guard, managing, upkeeping, and enforcing the rules of this horrendous game under the order of the Front Man. since you were given the opportunity to work as a soldier in the games due to the hopeless situation you were in before becoming a pink solider. desperate times calls for desperate measures you suppose.

all you had to do was follow the rules; never remove your masks to reveal your identity, no questioning of any command given or initiate any friendships to gain any forms of attachment. just eliminate players and make sure none of the contestants broke any of the game's guidelines. simple enough, right?

wrong. there were two particular contestants that had caught your attention. you shouldn't have been intrigued by them, you mentally scolded yourself. But it was hard not to be. they were literally acting as if these death games were the same as a children's playground. it was absurd. but it was amusing...to say the least.

after watching the purple-haired contestant who seems to go by the name, thanos, who was skipping around, killing players and having the time of his life in red light, green light along with nam-gyu following around, and partaking within the tense conflict between player 333, thanos and himself, you've made your choice.

of course, you were cautious and careful about the decisions you've made. you were as subtly as possible, if you were caught, dire consequences were to be delivered your way or, to save the effort and time, kill you.

you've made sure to ensure their safety for now, wanting to keep them alive to draw out the possibilities as to what they could do next to entertain you. even if it meant to kill other contestants unfairly as you kept a sharp eye towards their direction.

you've given them small advantages sneakily here and there, managing to slip by without a singular witness or anyone catching what you were doing. going from preventing conflicts that could get both of them killed to giving them extra food within their meals given in comparison to other players' meals.

of course, it didn't take long til one of them took notice before informing the other. the only question lingering within their minds, why? they knew you were one of the guards who were tasked to eliminate those who lose within the games, so why are you...helping them?

despite the triangular mask you wore to conceal your identity, they plan to find out who you were and confront to you. both keeping a rather particular eye on you. they knew which guard you were, often catching you taking a slight subtle glance towards their direction or they could just sense it, they just fucking knew it was you.

especially when it came to meal times, you would stand there with one hand that held a drink and the other that held the given sustenance (if you could even call it a proper nourishment for the players...) giving each player their limited ration, ignoring their complaints and noises of disbelief until it came to them.

the main dormitory was noisy, filled with the atmosphere of weary players who had just endured another brutal round. the smell of the tasteless food wafted through the air, mixing with the lingering fear and tension that never seemed to fade in this place. the players grumbled and complained about their meager rations, their voices filled with frustration, but you, as always, stood motionless behind the food station, handing out the same bland meal to each one of them.

the mask you wore, that stark triangular symbol, was meant to hide everything; your face, your emotions, your identity. to blend in with the other guards, to remain invisible. but it was becoming harder. they were starting to notice you.

as you handed out the meal to the next few contestants, you couldn't help, but feel their eyes on you. nam-gyu's calculating gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary, though he remained silent. thanos, however, was blatant. both of them trying to figure you out despite the appearance you kept up was hard enough to get a read from.

when thanos had appeared next in line, you could feel the tension between you, thick and almost palpable. thanos was grinning, his usual cocky self, but this time there was something behind that grin, something more calculated in the way he sized you up. nam-gyu stood behind him, calm as ever, but you could see the flicker of something behind his eyes. an awareness that wasn't there before.

you moved to hand thanos his ration, a carton of milk and bread wrapped in plastic. you handed it to him with your usual blank expression, but before you could pull your hand away, you subtly slide an extra piece of bread, quickly and barely for anyone to notice.

thanos didn't flinch, didn't make any overt sign that he saw it. he simply took the rations with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes not leaving you for a second. he stared at the food in his hands, looking back at you with a sly, knowing smile before turning around and heading back to his bunk. nam-gyu, on the other hand, stepped forward, an undeniable intensity within his eyes. he knew. they both knew. the question now was what they'd do with this knowledge.

without saying another word, you turned and moved to hand nam-gyu his rations, finding your own heart racing, but maintained the same calm demeanor as you slipped an extra piece of bread. just the same thing you've done for thanos, feeling nam-gyu's gaze on your form, sharper than ever.

his fingers had brushed against yours for moment, and you felt a brief shiver at the subtle touch before he politely thanked you. he took his rations and headed where thanos was sitting. you knew that thanos and nam-gyu would be conversing upon it, no one noticing that they were getting these advantages when the other contestants were too busy conversing upon what could possibly be ahead for them or the food in front of them.

you handed out the last of the rations with a quick, controlled motion, ignoring the lingering eyes of thanos and nam-gyu. "enjoy your meal," you stated, your voice cool, almost disinterested. then, without another word, you turned and moved away, the weight of their scrutiny following you.

it was risky. you knew it was, and yet, you still continued on. both of them were still alive. because of you.

there was at one point, where thanos had tried offering you the small pills inside his cross necklace which you were questioning as to how it managed to get within the game itself with no detection. which you declined, shaking your head while nam-gyu was poking your body, and touching your mask. you didn't know if he was doing this out of curiosity or simply for his own enjoyment, but each touch caused you to flinch and when he was about to pull your mask off, you didn't hesistate to lift your gun and point it directly at him as a warning. obviously, they backed off from that, not wanting to get killed.

questions would tend to spur towards you between both of them, but you never answered a singular question of theirs. and it certainly didn't take long til a confrontation occured during your shift of covering the bathrooms, making sure no one is causing trouble. one of your shifts would be where things would certainly take a turn for you.

the dimly lit corridor of the bathroom hallway felt strangely still, a quiet echo of the chaos that always surrounded the players. you stood with you back pressed against the cold wall, your triangular mask in place, you eyes scanning the hallway within an unblinking focus. the task was simple, stand guard, make sure no players caused trouble, and ensure no one broke the rules. as long as you kept your distance, it was easy to blend in.

but tonight was different. the air felt charged, a tense electricity crackling around you as you stood. you had a feeling something was coming, and when thanos and nam-gyu appeared, you knew the storm was finally here.

thanos strutted toward the bathroom door with his usual carefree swagger, his purple hair messy and wild. but his eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, flicked toward you for a split second, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. he had already started to sense something.

behind him, nam-gyu walked more slowly, his posture calm, but there was a sharpness in his steps. he had always been more observant, and it didn't take long for his eyes to lock on you as well. you did your best to keep still, not giving anything away, but they were too good. they knew.

"you," thanos's voice broke the silence, teasing but with an edge of something darker. he stopped in front of you, his lips curling into a smirk as he looked you over, then glanced to nam-gyu. "i knew it was you. always watching, always giving us just enough. don't think i didn't notice, guard."

"you've been helping us," nam-gyu said, his voice low, almost cold. "extra food, extra attention...you're not just doing your job. you're playing a different game, hmm?"

thanos's grin widened, sensing the opportunity. he leaned in, close enough that his breath fanned against your triangular mask. the one thing that separated both you and him, and you somehow found yourself gripping the firearm in your hands tighter. "what's your angle, guard? what are you getting out of this? you've been pretty... generous to us, haven't you?" his voice dripped with amusement, but there was something more dangerous in the way he spoke now.

you stood there, frozen for a moment, your heart pounding under the mask. you have been careful. you have bee subtle. but here you were, both of them were standing in front of you, catching onto your quiet acts of defiance. the games weren't just about survival for them; they were about control, about manipulation and right now, they were flipping that dynamic onto you.

before you could respond or move away, thanos's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a sudden force that left no room for protest. "you're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and insistent, a playful glint in his eyes as he pulled you towards a door that lead to the men's bathroom. "we've got some questions for you, guard." nam-gyu didn't need to speak; the message was clear. you weren't going to get away without giving proper answers.

the door to the men's bathroom slammed shut behind you as thanos pushed you inside, dragging you further into the dimly lit room. it was empty; just you, thanos, and nam-gyu.

thanos leaned in, his breath hot against your mask as he whispered, "you thought you could sneak by, didn't you? you thought you could just help us without anyone noticing." he took a step back, his grin growing wider, more dangerous.

nam-gyu moved closer, his movements deliberate, but a quiet power was evident in his eyes that sent a shiver through you. "you've been careful, but not careful enough," he said, his voice mockingly soft yet piercing. "we know what you've been doing. and now you're doing to explain it to us, right?"

you took a slow step back, but thanos was faster, his hand shooting out to block your retreat. his fingers brushed against you as he leaned in once more. "you've been playing both sides, haven't you? helping us, getting close. do you like it? do you like being close to us?"

the tension between the three of you was thick, the silence hanging in the air, broken only by your steady breaths underneath the mask. you had never been this close to them before, and now the weight of their scruntiny was more suffocating than you had anticipated.

thanos stepped forward, his face inches from yours, his smirk never wavering. it almost felt he and nam-gyu could see through your mask. "you're not so good at hiding, are you? i can feel it. you want something more from us, don't you?" his voice was suddenly soft, almost teasing though, as if he were savoring the moment. "maybe you just want to be seen."

nam-gyu didn't speak immediately as you felt nam-gyu suddenly holding onto your mask, almost as if he was about to lift it and reveal your identity towards them. his other hand holding onto your shoulder in a grip, rubbing it slightly. you didn't stop him, remaining completely still. "you're playing a dangerous game, y'know?" nam-gyu murmured close.

the words hung in the air, thick with tension, and just as you thought they might let you go, thanos leaned in, a final whisper of threat in his voice. "i think you like this. being caught. being trapped between us." his hand grazed your arm as he spoke, his grip tightening slightly on your wrist.

nam-gyu's eyes traced over you, intense and unwavering, his gaze heavy with unspoken meaning. a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took a step closer. his voice was low, almost a whisper. "you'll figure it out soon enough," he murmured. "what it really means to play with us...and what happens when you finally stop pretending you're not interested." his hand then lifted up your mask.

[pretentious-blonde]

new neighbour

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention

warnings: literally none, nervous and sweet steve!!

a/n: i have been gone for 3 months but uni has finally settled down! also if anyone wants a pt. 2 with steve trying to help move r in i am so down! i have so many ideas!!!

A steady stream of gray light filtered through the wide front windows of Family Video, illuminating the rows upon rows of VHS cases. The day was uncharacteristically slow, the kind of weekday lull that left the store feeling hollow and cavernous. Steve Harrington stood behind the counter, leaning his elbows on the chipped laminate surface, tapping his fingers in a pattern he’d repeated so many times in an attempt to give him something to focus on. 

His eyes hurt under the fluorescents, and though he tried to keep a casual expression, anyone who looked long enough could see the small, flickering signs of boredom crossing his features. On the other side of the store, Robin roamed the aisles, a small stack of VHS tapes in her hands, placing each one in its rightful place on the shelf. Every so often, she’d glance toward Steve, as if expecting some lively remark, but he remained lost in his thoughts.

“Hey,” Robin called, sliding a Night of the Comet tape onto the appropriate rack. “So… Vicky and I were talking the other night, and we thought, maybe this weekend…” She paused, drifting closer to the register so her voice wouldn’t echo.

Steve raised an eyebrow, still drumming his fingers on the counter. “Yeah, maybe what?”

Robin placed the last tape in her stack onto the shelf with a gentle thud. “Well, we’re making dinner. A real dinner—you know, in an actual kitchen, with actual groceries. Vicky wants me to learn her mom’s lasagna recipe. The whole shebang.” Her bright eyes searched his face. “Why don’t you come over? Eat with us?”

To anyone else, that might sound like a friendly suggestion. But there was a flicker in Robin’s eyes that Steve knew well: an undercurrent of pity. After all, he’d gone on a date last weekend that hadn’t exactly gone well. He was used to being the one with endless charm, the guy who always had a witty quip or a warm smile to keep a conversation going. Yet none of that had worked on Tanya—no matter how hard he tried. God was he trying.

Steve sighed, pushing himself upright. “Yeah… no.”

Robin visibly balked, confusion knitting her brows. “What do you mean, ‘yeah… no’? You can’t just respond to an invitation like that.”

“Exactly how I just did,” he said, mouth tilting into a faint, lopsided grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m not interrupting your date night just because you feel bad for me. I know you guys are trying to, like, throw me a bone or whatever.”

Robin’s cheeks puffed out in a mock sigh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She turned away, pretending to occupy herself by adjusting a crooked VHS case. The slight shift in her voice told him otherwise. She always was a terrible liar. 

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You know what I’m talking about.” He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, though the memory of last weekend pricked at him more than he liked to admit. Tanya had been gorgeous—dark hair, lovely eyes, a laugh that could probably stop traffic. At first glance, she was the perfect fit. But after an hour of him asking question after question and receiving nothing but uninterested one-word answers, he’d realised that appearances weren't enough to carry a conversation. The spark was missing, that intangible something that made him want to stay, to laugh, to learn more. It just wasn’t there. He was beginning to think it never would be, at least for him.

Robin finally turned back. “Okay, so maybe I know you’ve been bummed. But it’s not pity, Steve.” She rolled her eyes. “Vicky genuinely likes you. We both do.”

“Sure,” Steve said, gently drumming his fingers again. “Vicky likes me enough to let me crash her romantic, candle-lit dinner with her girlfriend.” He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Yeah, that’s not weird at all.”

Robin shot him a look. “It’s not weird if we invite you. And besides, it’s not like this is going to be some super fancy dinner. There might be candles, but that’s only so I can see the food properly, okay?”

Steve snorted, though the weight in his chest didn’t quite lift. “Look, Rob, I appreciate it,” he said, voice softening. “I do. But I’m not sure I’m up for third-wheeling on a Saturday night. I think it’s safer for everyone if I steer clear, especially given your experimental cooking.”

She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile. “Wow, way to appreciate me trying to feed you.” Though she spoke jokingly, she studied his face for signs of deeper sadness. He was Steve Harrington—he was supposed to be the one with the perpetual easy grin. But ever since his dating and social life had crashed and burned, Robin could see the twinge of hurt in his eyes. He was insecure. He liked to feel needed, he always had. He had no problem giving himself to others. So watching everyone else find their person only made him more self-conscious. The truth was nobody needed him, and that knowledge was slowly eating away at him.

“You know,” Robin added, resting her hands on the cart that held a few more tapes, “it’s not just about the date. I get it—you’re lonely. It’s okay to admit that. We’ve all been there.”

He opened his mouth, his gaze slipping away to look out the window at a slow-moving car. The driver was just a blur behind the glass, but it gave him something to focus on. Because she was right. He was lonely, and part of him wanted to accept Robin’s invitation so badly. The other part of him couldn’t bear to insert himself as a third wheel—he knew that feeling too well. He’d spent years longing for something real, something effortlessly mutual. Maybe he’d find it eventually, but not if he was hanging around a couple who only extended the invite out of sympathy.

“Okay,” Robin said, exhaling the tension that had built up between them. “If you change your mind, call me. Seriously, no guilt trip, no questions asked. Vicky won’t mind. We’ll have a plate ready.”

A genuine smile tugged at the corners of Steve’s mouth. It still looked like it held a bit of sadness but he covered it up to not upset her further. “Yeah. Thanks, Rob. I promise, if I get the sudden urge for a crisp lasagna—”

“Hey!”

He grinned for real this time. “—I’ll give you a call. Right now, though, I think I’m just gonna stick to renting a movie and ordering takeout. Maybe keep my Saturday night simple.”

Robin nodded, accepting his declination. Her gaze lingered, and she wanted to push harder, but she knew Steve well enough to sense that pushing too much would only drive him further into his own shell. “Alright,” she said softly, reaching out to pat his arm. “You know where to find me if you need to talk.”

“I know. And thanks.” He meant it.

Their eyes met before Robin moved off to shelve the remaining tapes. He watched her go, then slowly leaned forward on the counter again. Outside, the sun was getting a little brighter, illuminating the Family Video sign and casting reflections across the empty parking lot. He was trying to think about whatever movie he would undoubtedly be bringing home with him for the weekend, alone. That is, until he sees you.

You’re walking at an unhurried pace, shoulders slightly hunched against the cool breeze, but there’s something about you that holds his attention. The way your outfit matches in a way that feels effortless but intentional, the way your hair catches the light, styled just enough to suggest effort but not so much that it seems like you’re trying too hard. 

You push open the glass door, and the bell above gives a soft jingle that seems to echo in the stillness. The warmth of the store envelops you, a cozy contrast to the lingering chill outside. Rows of tapes tower around you, aisles lit by bulbs that buzz quietly in the background. It all feels a bit nostalgic, not too intimidating. 

Behind the front counter, Steve stands with his elbows braced on the worn surface. For a second, it looks like you’ve interrupted him mid-daydream—his brown eyes are distant. The moment you step inside, he blinks, and you can practically see the switch flip as you catch him. Suddenly, he’s all awareness, standing straighter, swallowing once. A faint flush colours the tips of his ears, though he tries to hide it by running a hand through his hair.

He looks at you in a way that he hopes is welcoming, he’s not sure if he should say something immediately or give you space to browse. There is a gentle lift of his shoulders as he inhales, working up the courage to speak. You offer a polite nod and slide toward the nearest aisle before he can get a word out.

He exhales a shaky breath he didn’t realise he was holding, mind racing as he tries to place you. He can’t recall seeing you here before, and he was certain he would remember if you had. He drags his fingers over the keyboard, tapping random keys to pretend he’s busy. In truth, all he wants is to keep glancing your way. It was maddening forcing his attention to the computer screen. 

You wander among the rows, taking in the titles. There’s something oddly comforting about the smell of plastic VHS covers. Occasionally, you catch sight of Steve peeking over from the desk, just for a moment, before he ducks back down to avoid being caught staring. You find yourself smiling at his obvious attempt to be casual.

He, meanwhile, is silently scolding himself. He knew he was being weird—God, he needs to get a grip. But there’s a traitorous part of him that can’t help noticing the delicate way your hair frames your face, or the look of your jacket—well worn, well loved, taken care of. Even though your aura was disarming, he felt like he was in high school all over again, unable to stop staring at the pretty girl in the corridor.

Eventually, you settle on a tape, The Empire Strikes Back—something classic you’ve been meaning to watch again. Taking a steadying breath, you head to the counter, the plastic case clutched in your hand. As you approach, he forces himself to appear relaxed, collected, though inside he’s buzzing with anticipation.

“Um, hey… Steve,” you look up from his name tag, placing the tape before him. His eyes dart down to the cover, then back up to you. “Do you work here?”

The moment you say it, you realise how silly it sounds—he’s in the company vest, with a company name tag on it. Heat flares across your cheeks.

A laugh bubbles out of him—warm, kind. He shakes his head gently as if to say, Don’t worry about it. “Yeah, I do.” 

You nod, cheeks still burning from your awkward question. “Yes. Sorry, I, uh… obviously you work here.”

“Nah, no problem. I’ve gotten weirder questions,” his smile widens, softening around the edges. You’re cute when you’re embarrassed. “Good pick, by the way.”

As he scans the tape, you notice the slight tremor in his hand. It’s barely there, but you sense the sweet, nervous energy radiating from him. His gaze flickers to you, then back to the screen, then to you again—like he can’t quite decide which deserves his attention more. You, probably.

“So, um,” he starts, clearing his throat, “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you… new in town?” He tries to sound casual, but a hopeful note creeps into his voice, as though he’s crossing his fingers for you to keep talking.

You brighten at the question, happy to have something normal to say. “I am, actually. I just moved here a few days ago. The apartment is literally right across the street—well, I think you can see it from the window.”

His eyes widened with interest and with the knowledge of your close proximity. “Yeah? Pretty convenient if you want a movie.” And maybe to see me, he almost adds. “So, when exactly did you move in?”

“Three days ago,” you reply, letting out a breathy exhale at the memory. “I’ve been knee-deep in boxes ever since. I finally decided I deserved a break, and what better way than a movie night to make the new place feel more like home, right?”

He nods fervently, excitement sparking behind his eyes. “That’s true. Shame I wasn’t working that day—maybe I could’ve, I don’t know… helped haul a box or two?” He offers a tiny shrug, his words stumbling a bit as he realises how forward that might sound. “I mean, not that I… I just… you know,” he begins to backtrack.

A warm giggle escapes you, putting him at ease. “I appreciate the thought. My arms hurt for, like, the whole day afterwards.”

He huffs a little chuckle, feeling relief wash over him when you don’t seem put off. “Exactly.”

He glances around the store for Robin knowing she’s probably lurking somewhere, listening in with a sly grin. But in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care too much; he wants you to have his full attention.

“If you don’t have a membership yet,” he says, fishing around under the counter for a form, “you’ll need to fill this out.” He slides a paper and pen toward you.

“Right, I’m totally new,” you reply, stepping closer to read the sheet. As you lean in, Steve notices the light scent of your shampoo—or maybe your perfume—and it makes his pulse skip. He’s had customers before, obviously, but none have made him feel this flustered. It wasn't a feeling he necessarily disliked. 

Fighting the urge to stare too obviously, he busies himself with looking at the returns papers, occasionally sneaking a glance your way. He notices the way your brow furrows as you fill in the different boxes, huffing to yourself when you wrote your previous address, crossing it out and starting again. It was so human, so endearing, he had to turn away fully or his amused smile would give him away. 

Once you’ve filled out the form, you pass it back. He types in your details, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he commits your name to memory. “Perfect,” he tells you, printing out a fresh membership card and sliding it across the counter.

“Thanks,” you say, tucking it into your wallet. “Feels official now.”

He can’t help but feel upset that this moment is slipping away—any second, you’ll thank him, smile, and leave. Then he’ll be stuck behind the counter once again, replaying this conversation over and over until you come to return it, which could be a week from now. That would be unacceptable.

He clears his throat. “Uh, so,” he begins, voice wavering ever so slightly. “You got any big plans this weekend? Since you’re, you know, new here.” You could tell he was aiming for confident, but that casual tone of his falters as he seems genuinely invested in your response. 

His smile drops as he hears your reply. “Actually, yeah, I do,” his heart sinks, mind already going into overdrive. You’re probably telling him politely to let him down. He knew he was being too brazen, but he couldn’t stop the embarrassment from settling in his chest. 

“I need to head into town and get some furniture,” you explain as his head looks up, stopping him from spiralling. “I heard there’s a store a few miles away?”

He smiles at the fact that you’re still talking and didn’t just shut him down, you’re just busy—and that’s okay. “Oh, yeah,” he nods eagerly. “There is, um, it’s about a ten-minute drive, tops. Depends on traffic, I guess, but Hawkins isn’t exactly wild.” He lets out a weak laugh. “What are you, uh, looking for?”

“Mostly a bookshelf. I thought I could just stack my books, but they’re already in danger of tumbling over.”

He is listening, but a large part of him is cursing how little attention he paid in English class. Wishing he could humour you more. “That’s cool,” he says safely. “So, you’re a big reader?”

You nod, eyes lighting up. “Oh absolutely, I love getting lost in a story.”

He can’t help but think how sweet you are, the warmth in your expression filling his stomach, urging him past his nerves to finally ask what he had been wanting to. “Well, if you need help lugging that thing up the stairs to your apartment, I’m, uh… not working this weekend.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he realises that, once again, it may have been too forward. 

“Really?” You ask, face brightening before he had the chance to overthink. “That’d be great! I was kind of worried about getting it back here on my own.”

His heart does that little flip at your acceptance of his offer. He nods enthusiastically, a few rogue hairs settling on his forehead, making his appearance more boyish. 

“It’s no problem,” he tells you as he puts his hands in his pockets, trying to appear relaxed as if this wasn’t the most exciting opportunity to happen to him all year. “I’ve got a car that’s… well, it’s big enough. Definitely more roomy than your average trunk. If yours can’t handle the bookshelf, mine can.”

You break into a grateful grin. “Wow, that’s really nice of you. Seriously.”

A blush creeps across his cheeks at your kind words, his face turning bashful. “Honestly, it’s no big deal at all.” It really wasn't, if all it takes is transporting some furniture to spend more time with you, he would gladly do it.

You lift your shoulders in a shrug, feeling slightly indebted. “Well, at least let me buy you a coffee or something afterwards, to say thanks. I insist.”

“No, that’s—” He starts to protest, but the look on your face tells him you’re determined. It’s kind of adorable how your eyebrows pinch together.

“I insist,” you repeat, a little more firmly, and he laughs quietly. So you're stubborn, he can work with that.

“Alright,” he concedes, holding up his hands in surrender. “Coffee it is. How about…” Think, Steve, think. “Saturday morning, I can meet you out front, say, 10:30? Unless that’s too early?” In truth, he’d be ready at sunrise if it meant spending more time with you, but he doesn't want to sound desperate.

“That’s perfect,” you say, beaming as you pick up your rented tape. “Thank you again, Steve.”

“Sure,” he replied, feeling a grin stretch across his face, so genuine it almost hurts his cheeks. He is shocked at how he managed to do this. How—by some miracle—you of all people had moved across the street. 

You give a small wave, and the door shuts behind you, the bell chiming one last time. His heart is still hammering away as he stares at the closed door, trying to process that he just—did that. He just set up what is basically a date… or at least a coffee situation. Either way, it’s something.

In the sudden quiet, he hears a muffled sound from behind him, and when he spins around, there’s Robin standing in the break room doorway. She’s practically bouncing on her heels, eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, my God,” she says, not even bothering to hide the grin overtaking her face. “Was that—did you just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts her off, rolling his eyes even though he can’t keep the giddy smile off his own lips. “Shut up, Robin.”

She doesn’t shut up, but he doesn't mind. All he can think about is Saturday morning, and the way your face lit up when he offered to help you, and how maybe this is going to be the start of something really, really good.