#accidental shape language moment

[luckycloverforducks]

The Messiah and the man who devoted his whole life to him until the bitter end (it's Simon Peter)

These r my designs for a story I'm (desperately) trying to write

(it's bible fanfiction, like good omens and.. partially Hazbin..) Abt heaven n hell/the bible and shit yk.... I'm normal I promise

Judas, Lucifer & angels design coming soon probably, and possibly MAYBE the other disciples idk..... I know nothing Abt those guys tbh sorr e

+ design notes I made for myself bc I can and tbh I need it (tho I might change it. I'm not exactly consistent idk)

Btw the forehead scar/marking on Jesus is fully inspired by the last unicorn, it's basically where his 3rd eye/"God Eye" is, when opened he becomes fully omniscient like Big G (he's not in his neutral state cause well, half human, also he doesn't like it), it's like a special ability LOL ; under the hair it's diamond/star shaped-ish (✨)

[jupiterpilgrim]

Drown With Me

Pt.2: Interpolation

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 7K

part 1 | part 3

A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.

I wish I could be everything you wanted.

—

Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.

We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:

The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.

She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.

“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.

She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.

Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.

You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”

Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.

“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”

She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”

“Coke?”

She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”

“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”

“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”

“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”

“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”

She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”

You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl’?”

Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”

“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”

The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.

You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.

You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.

—

The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.

At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.

Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.

“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.

She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”

She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”

You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”

“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”

“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”

You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”

“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”

Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”

She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”

“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”

“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”

Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.

You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.

“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”

“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.

—

Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.

Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.

Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”

“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.

“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”

That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”

“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”

Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”

“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”

Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”

Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.

Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”

Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”

“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.

“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”

Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”

Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.

“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”

Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”

Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”

Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.

“Hey, Minji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”

—

The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.

No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.

The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.

Or at least, she tries to.

What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.

“Shit—!”

She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.

“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.

Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.

You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.

“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”

“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.

Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”

She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”

“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.

You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”

Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”

“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”

She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”

Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”

“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”

She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.

Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

—

The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.

Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.

“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”

She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”

“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”

“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.

But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”

Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”

Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”

“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”

Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”

Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”

“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”

“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”

Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”

“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”

“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.

“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”

Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”

“And you’re just friends?”

“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.

Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.

“Can I go too?”

Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”

“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”

“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”

“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”

Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”

Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”

“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”

Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”

Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.

Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.

“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”

Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”

As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.

Now?

She has no idea what’s about to happen.

—

The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.

You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.

Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.

Minji.

She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.

“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”

You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”

Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”

You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”

Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”

You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”

“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”

“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”

Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.

“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”

“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”

She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”

Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”

Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”

“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”

Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”

You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”

“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.

“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."

“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”

“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”

“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.

“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”

“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”

“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”

You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”

She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”

Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”

Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”

You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”

“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”

Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”

“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.

Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”

The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.

—

The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.

Monday Night

Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.

“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.

“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”

You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”

“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”

Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”

“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”

You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”

The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.

“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.

“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.

Wednesday Night

Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.

“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.

“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.

“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.

Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”

You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”

Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”

“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”

Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”

You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”

Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”

“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”

Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.

Friday Night

The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.

“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.

“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”

“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”

“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”

As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.

Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”

Both of you turn to her, surprised.

“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.

“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”

Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.

Sunday Night

The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.

“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”

“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”

Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.

“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”

“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.

“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.

“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”

You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.

Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.

As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.

—

The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine—meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.

Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.

Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.

She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”

“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.

“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.

Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”

“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.

Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”

The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.

Later That Week

The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.

But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”

“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”

“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.

Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.

Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.

At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”

Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.

The Bar, One Week Later

It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.

But it’s just Minji.

She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”

“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”

There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.

“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”

Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”

part 3

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION chapter 1 ✫ jeon jungkook

after Jeon resigned as CEO, meeting his son —the new CEO— was not a good experience. Despite the tension, you notice hints of vulnerability beneath his moody exterior.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

chapter one: the new CEO

Life has a strange way of changing in the blink of an eye. One moment, you’re comfortable in the routine of your daily life, and the next, everything shifts—like the wind knocking over an entire stack of carefully arranged folders. For you, this particular change had come faster than expected. Jeon, the former CEO, had resigned abruptly, leaving the company in turmoil. There was little time to adjust, and even less time to process what was happening.

Jeon had been a constant at the helm for years. His presence had shaped the company's foundation, and you had respected him for his sharp, calculated leadership. He had guided the company with precision and there was always an understanding that he could be trusted to keep the ship steady. But now, his son, Jeon Jungkook, was stepping into his shoes. You knew little about him, except for the occasional gossip that had floated through the company—rumours that painted him as cold, unapproachable and... gorgeous.

Today was the day. You went through your morning routine on autopilot. Coffee brewed in the corner as you brushed your hair, choosing practicality over flair. A pencil skirt, a pastel blouse, and your trusty blazer—a combination that felt like armour against the unpredictability of corporate life. You grabbed your bag and headed out the door.

At this time of the morning, the bus stop was alive with the quiet energy of early morning commuters. A mix of sleepiness and determination hung in the air as people shuffled about with their eyes fixed on their phones or the horizon. You settled into your usual seat by the window, gazing at the familiar cityscape rushing by. Buildings stacked against one another and the occasional cyclist weaving through traffic—it all felt comfortingly ordinary.

By the time you reached the office, the hum of whispered speculation filled the air. As you walked through the halls, exchanging polite smiles with colleagues, you couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to carry a certain tension in their movements.

Soojin appeared at your side. Her usual cheery demeanour was like a ray of sunshine cutting through the tense atmosphere. She was holding a steaming cup of tea, her neatly styled bob bouncing slightly as she walked. She started working at the same time you entered the company, therefore you've become really good friends.

“Good morning!” she chirped, setting her cup down on the counter. She leaned against it, her bright eyes scanning your stack of papers. “Prepared for our big meeting with the new boss?”

“Morning, Soojin,” you replied, offering her a small smile. “Yeah, just making sure I have everything in order. First impressions matter, right?”

“Absolutely,” she said, nodding emphatically. “But don’t stress too much. From what I’ve heard, Jeon Jungkook isn’t exactly the chatty type. Rumour has it he’s more about the Finances Department than the HR one.”

You gave a small laugh, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’ve heard that too. But, you know, I’m still hoping he’ll be open to ideas. We'll present the proposal for improving employee morale that I think could really make a difference.”

Soojin raised an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between impressed and skeptical. “Employee morale? The one Dohyun and you made up? Bold move. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great. But with all the talk about how cold he is, I wouldn’t be surprised if he shuts it down...”

“Maybe,” you admitted, straightening your papers and tucking them into your folder. “But I have to try, right? If we don’t focus on the people here, everything else will eventually fall apart.”

Soojin tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “That’s what I like about you. Always seeing the bright side, even when everyone else is freaking out. Just… don’t let him discourage you, okay? From what I hear, he can be a bit intimidating.”

You chuckled, though you couldn’t completely mask the nervous flutter in your stomach. “Honestly, how bad can he be? He’s human too, right?”

Soojin shrugged, her expression playful but knowing. “Sure, he’s human. But some humans are more like icebergs—most of them are hidden, and what you can see is cold and sharp.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Soojin said with a grin, taking her cup of tea and stepping aside as Dohyun, another member form the HR team approached, nodding a greeting to both of you. The three of you started to walk towards the conference room. “Anyway, you’ve got this. Just be yourself. If anyone can charm an iceberg, it’s you.”

Her words were meant to be encouraging, but as you adjusted your blazer, you couldn’t shake the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. If Jeon Jungkook really was as cold and impenetrable as the rumours suggested, this meeting was going to be anything but easy.

The long, polished table gleamed under the overhead lights, the leather chairs arranged neatly around it. You set your notebook and pen in front of you, taking a moment to mentally prepare for the meeting ahead. The other members of the HR team began to trickle in—Soojin with her ever-present cheerful energy, Dohyun looking focused as always, Joonho balancing his coffee precariously in one hand, and Minji projecting her usual calm authority.

The room was alive with small talk until the atmosphere shifted. A hush fell over the space as the door opened, and in walked Jeon Jungkook.

Your first thought was how young he looked, though the sharp lines of his suit and the intensity in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t someone to be underestimated. He exuded confidence, the kind that came with knowing you didn’t need to say much to command a room. His gaze swept over the table, assessing each face with a precision that made your heart quicken. When his eyes landed on you, they lingered for a fraction of a second longer than expected, and the weight of his attention was almost tangible.

He was handsome.

He took his place at the head of the table without so much as a greeting. His assistant, Hajun, followed closely behind, setting a sleek portfolio in front of him.

"Let’s get started," Jungkook said, his voice low and firm, cutting through the silence like a blade.

You straightened in your seat, your pen poised to take notes. The meeting began, and it was immediately clear that Jungkook operated differently from his father. He listened, but his responses were curt, his tone leaving little room for argument. When your turn came to speak, you offered your carefully prepared suggestion for improving workplace morale—an idea you were confident would resonate with his father, the former CEO.

“Good morning, everyone,” you began, glancing around the table before focusing on Jungkook. His dark eyes locked onto yours, and you had to resist the urge to look away. “I’d like to propose an initiative to improve employee morale and engagement. We’ve seen a lot of changes recently, and I believe it’s crucial to invest in the well-being of our team during this transitional period.”

But Jungkook’s expression didn’t shift.

After a few seconds, he decided to say something. “That’s too idealistic,” he said flatly. His voice was calm, but the dismissal stung all the same. Every team member looked astonished, “We don’t have the resources to entertain abstract ideas right now. We need to focus on tangible results, not wishful positive thinking.”

The room went silent, all eyes shifting between you and him. A wave of heat rose to your face, but you refused to let it deter you. Taking a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and replied.

“I understand your concerns, Mr. Jeon,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “But I respectfully disagree. Employee morale isn’t an abstract idea; it’s a measurable factor that directly impacts productivity and retention. If we don’t address the root causes of disengagement now, we’ll face bigger problems down the line—higher turnover, lower performance, and potentially a damaged reputation.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your rebuttal. His pen paused mid-tap, and he leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. For a moment, the room was still, the air thick with anticipation. Jungkook didn’t speak immediately, his expression unreadable as his gaze lingered on you.

Finally, he nodded, though it was more an acknowledgment of your persistence than an agreement. “Noted,” he said simply before shifting his attention to the next person on the agenda.

As you sat back down, your heart was racing, but you kept your composure. Soojin shot you a quick, encouraging smile from across the table, and you gave her a subtle nod in return. Jungkook’s dismissal still stung, but you couldn’t help feeling a small sense of victory. You had stood your ground, and even if he hadn’t agreed, you knew you had planted a seed.

Whether he realized it or not, Jeon Jungkook was going to hear you out—eventually.

Despite his half-rejection, you couldn’t help but notice the long hours Jungkook kept. He stayed in his office long after everyone else had left, his office door always ajar, the flicker of his desk lamp visible through the cracks. Curiosity gnawed at you, as you were heading home yourself, you decided to stop by and check in on him. Your offices were facing each other, therefore you could see everything he was doing.

You knocked lightly on the doorframe, unsure of what kind of reception you would get.

"Mr. Jeon?" you began, your voice tentative. "I noticed you’re still here. Is everything okay?"

Jungkook glanced up at you, his expression unreadable. His eyes were sharp, calculating as they locked onto yours. "I don’t need a babysitter," he muttered before quickly returning to the papers in front of him. There was no warmth in his tone, no indication that he appreciated the concern. But there was something else—something beneath his cold exterior—that you couldn’t quite place. A flicker of frustration, of exhaustion, maybe. It was there, but only for a split second.

You had expected him to shut the door in your face, but instead, he let you stand there for a few seconds longer before the silence stretched uncomfortably between you.

"I just thought… maybe you could use a break. It’s important to recharge, too," you said, trying once more, hoping to break through that thick wall he had built around himself.

He didn’t respond, just stared at you as though trying to decide whether or not your presence was a disruption. When he spoke, his voice was lower, edged with something you hadn’t heard before—a mixture of stress and frustration.

"I don’t have the luxury of downtime," he muttered, his gaze turning back to the papers in front of him, his fingers tapping against the desk in a rapid rhythm. "My father was right to step down when he did. This place it’s too much to handle..."

You didn’t know if you were meant to hear this. Jungkook’s voice cracked just slightly as he spoke, a rare moment of vulnerability that cut through his otherwise unyielding exterior. But before you could respond, he snapped, his tone returning to its familiar sharpness.

"Just go. I’ll manage," he said, his gaze hardening once more as he gestured toward the door.

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Jungkook was difficult, a person wrapped in layers of pride and frustration, but there was something about that brief moment of honesty—something raw—that made you wonder if there was more to him than the impenetrable CEO persona he projected.

You didn’t know what the future held, but one thing was clear: this man, this new CEO, was not the cold-hearted figure he appeared to be on the surface. And perhaps, in time, you could find a way to break through that wall he had so carefully constructed around himself.

The HR office buzzed with an unusual energy, a rare break from the grind. Joonho’s birthday had turned the space into a small celebration, complete with an assortment of pastries from the bakery down the street. Laughter echoed as everyone gathered around, sipping coffee and chatting.

“Okay, okay!” Minji said, clapping her hands for attention. “We have an important task for you, sunshine.” Her tone was teasing, but her expression was determined as her gaze landed squarely on you.

You raised an eyebrow, your mouth still full of a bite of croissant. “Me? What’s this ‘important task’?”

Dohyun chimed in, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “You’ve got to invite Mr. Jeon to join us.”

You blinked, startled. “Jeon Jungkook? The CEO? Are you serious?”

Joonho nodded vigorously, his cheeks slightly pink from the attention everyone was showering on him. “Come on! It’s my birthday, and maybe you can get him to crack a smile. Plus,” he added with a sly grin, “you’re the only one brave enough to talk back to him.”

Minji, ever the voice of reason, stepped in with a gentle smile. “It’s worth a try. Even if he says no, it’ll show that we’re trying to include him. And who knows? He might surprise us.”

You sighed, setting your half-eaten pastry on the edge of your desk. “Fine, I’ll do it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if he declines.” The team erupted into cheers and laughter as you smoothed down your blouse, squared your shoulders, and made your way toward his office.

The door to Mr. Jeaon's office was slightly ajar, but you hesitated before knocking. A voice from inside stopped you—a woman’s voice, clear and firm. You hesitated outside his office door, adjusting your grip on the folder in your hands, but before you could knock, a low, feminine laugh drifted through the gap.

"Come on, Jungkook," the woman purred, her tone smooth and teasing. "You can’t keep shutting the world out. At some point, even you need a little... release."

Your breath caught, and your fingers froze just above the door. The casual intimacy of her words, paired with the warmth in her voice, made your face heat.

Jungkook’s reply was quieter but firm. “This isn’t the time for distractions. You know that better than anyone.”

“Oh, please,” she shot back, amusement dancing in her voice. “You’ve been coiled so tight since taking this job, I’m surprised you haven’t snapped. What’s the harm in loosening up a little? Just for tonight? As we used to...”

The suggestion hung in the air, heavy and charged. You felt your heart hammer in your chest. Should you turn back? But the folder in your hands reminded you of why you were here—no matter how awkward it might be.

Gathering your courage, you knocked lightly, hoping the sound would cut through whatever tension had been brewing inside.

The voices went silent.

“Come in,” Jungkook called, his tone now sharp and businesslike.

You pushed the door open cautiously. Jungkook stood behind his desk, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. His tie was slightly askew, and there was a faint flush at the base of his neck. The woman’s voice was gone, though the faint click of a phone being disconnected told you she was still on the other end of the call just moments ago.

He met your eyes, and for a split second, you thought you saw something flicker there—annoyance? Embarrassment? It was gone before you could decipher it.

“Miss,” he said, his voice cool. “What is it?”

You cleared your throat, trying to push past the awkwardness. “I just came to invite you to join the HR team. We’re celebrating Joonho’s birthday, and we thought it would be nice to include you.”

Jungkook raised a brow, the tension in his jaw softening slightly. “I’m busy,” he replied, gesturing to the neatly organized stack of documents on his desk. “And I don’t need any of that.”

His words were dismissive, but there was a faint edge to his tone like he was still distracted by the previous conversation.

“I see,” you said, masking your confusion with a polite smile. “Well, the invitation’s there if you change your mind. Have a good evening, Mr. Jeon.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder about the woman on the phone—and the look on Jungkook’s face when he thought no one was watching. Was he dating someone? Seeing someone? Or just a fling...? You suddenly stop in your tracks, You shouldn't be thinking about our boss's private life.

Later that evening, as the office grew quiet and most of your colleagues had left, you found yourself lingering in the HR office as every other day. The leftover pastries from Joonho’s birthday were spread across the table, and your gaze fell on the last remaining matcha cream puff, Joonho’s favourite and, coincidentally, the one you had secretly saved for Jungkook.

You still couldn’t shake the tension from earlier—the clipped way he’d dismissed your invitation and the strange conversation you had overheard. The woman’s sultry tone and Jungkook’s responses echoed faintly in your mind, leaving you with more questions than answers. But one thing was clear: whatever weight Jungkook carried on his shoulders, it was heavy.

You picked up the pastry and carefully placed it in a small box, folding the lid neatly. Grabbing a purple sticky note, you scribbled a simple message:

"Eat it, please! We would have loved to have you today – Miss Y/N"

It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do—a small gesture to remind him that someone in this office cared, even if he tried to push everyone away.

With the box in hand, you made your way to his office. The lights were still on, but the room was empty, his jacket slung neatly over the back of his chair. You stepped inside hesitantly, placing the box squarely in the centre of his desk. The sticky note caught the glow of his desk lamp, and you smiled faintly at the absurdity of it all.

Would he eat it? Would he crumple up the note and toss it in the trash? You had no idea.

You turned off the light in his office as you left, leaving the pastry and the quiet note behind. As the elevator doors closed and you descended to the lobby, you couldn’t help but wonder if this tiny act of kindness might crack the icy façade Jungkook seemed determined to maintain.

If nothing else, you’d tried—and that was enough for now.

The quiet hum of the office after hours was a rare solace for Jungkook. He leaned back in his chair, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he replayed Yuna’s voice in his head.

“Jungkook,” she had said, her tone dripping with something he couldn’t quite place—mockery, concern, or maybe a blend of both. “You can’t keep running yourself into the ground. You’ve always had this... obsession with proving yourself. It’s exhausting just to watch, honestly.”

Her words cut deeper than he wanted to admit. Yuna had always known how to push his buttons, her insight into his insecurities as sharp as ever. “You’ve been coiled so tight since taking this job, I’m surprised you haven’t snapped. What’s the harm in loosening up a little? Just for tonight? As we used to...”

He’d ended the call quickly, his jaw tight as he shoved the phone into his pocket. He hated that she still had that effect on him, that she could twist his emotions with a single conversation.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the weight of her words as he pushed open the door to his office. He froze mid-step, his gaze landing on the small box sitting on his desk. The office was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the large windows, but the glow of his desk lamp illuminated the neat handwriting on a sticky note:

"Eat it, please! We would have loved to have you today – Miss Y/N"

For a moment, Jungkook just stood there, staring at the note. His brow furrowed as he approached the desk, setting down the files he’d been carrying. The box was small and unassuming, but the gesture felt oddly personal—out of place in the structured world he inhabited.

He peeled the note off the box and read it again, his lips pressing into a thin line.

You.

He thought back to earlier that day, to the way you had stood in his office, your invitation soft but genuine. He’d brushed you off, too preoccupied with Yuna’s voice still echoing in his mind to give you the consideration it deserved. And yet, here you were—persisting in your quiet, unassuming way.

Curiosity got the better of him. Jungkook opened the box to reveal a matcha cream puff, the delicate pastry perfectly intact. He hesitated, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts.

Why would she do this? What was she expecting in return?

But as he sat down and leaned back in his chair, the sharp ache in his chest from Yuna’s words began to dull. He picked up the cream puff, taking a small bite. The sweetness melted on his tongue, a stark contrast to the bitterness of these past days.

Jungkook glanced at the sticky note again, the corner of his mouth twitching as if it might curve into a smile—but it didn’t quite get there.

“Eat it, please,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he let the tension in his shoulders ease. The pastry wasn’t just a dessert—it was a reminder that not everyone wanted something from him. As he finished the cream puff, Jungkook placed the note back on his desk, staring at it longer than he intended.

“Miss Y/N,” he said softly, her name a strange comfort in the quiet of his office.

He didn’t know what to make of you yet, but one thing was certain—you were different, and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

previous / next

[lorialia]

⋆ sweet temptation ⋆

pairing: best friend!han jisung x fem!reader

genre: smut, minors dni.

summary: you and your best friend accidentally devour an entire box of sex chocolates while watching a pirated version of the movie ponyo. now you're left to deal with the consequences.

a/n: this came about after i submitted a similar thirst for @daydreams-after-dark 's birthday month event . . . so if you're seeing this, hi :) thanks for the indirect motivation to start a skz blog and post this. i hope you all enjoy ♡

warnings: dom!hanji, sub fem!reader, accidental use of sex chocolates/aphrodisiacs, dry humping, unprotected sex, very messy and wet, creampie, pet names(baby), possessive language, multiple orgasms, technically there's no verbal consent but they're both enthusiastic

"This is bullshit. I swear it is."

“What do you mean?" Jisung says, staring at you accusingly from across the couch. His wispy black hair falls in front of his round glasses, and his fingers reach up to brush it away so he can give you a halfhearted glare. "I put Ponyo in B-tier. That means it's good."

Your nose crinkles in pure disgust, absolute horror at the dingy laptop placed on your best friend’s ottoman. The screen glitches every once in a while, but you see the brightly colored tierlist clear as day. There’s Ponyo—one of your favorite Studio Ghibli movies of all time, a masterpiece of visual art and fairytale storytelling—in B-tier. Middle of the road. Average.

“It deserves better than just good!” You insist, convinced that he has the worst taste on planet Earth. “C’mon. At least put it up a tier.”

“Next to My Neighbor Totoro? Fuck no.”

“Fuck you!”

“Woah woah woah, language,” Jisung replies cheekily, and you grumble, tipping back to sink your head into the cushions of your best friend’s couch. If he even is your best friend after this anyways.

You and Jisung have been hanging out at his apartment for hours, chatting about basically anything and everything. It’s an especially exciting night; his roommate is out visiting family for the weekend, meaning the two of you have the whole place to yourselves.

“Don’t make a mess,” Minho had said through the phone. “I don’t want to clean up once I get back home.”

So far, you’ve had halfhearted success in baking cinnamon rolls, little-to-no success cooking dinner, and full success in ordering barbeque chicken. The kitchen had barely survived through it all, but aside from an occasional utensil on the floor it’s pretty clean.

Aside from your cooking ventures, you two have taken it upon yourselves to rank all the Studio Ghibli movies on a tierlist. Some of his takes surprise you, maybe frustrate you— but none of them fill you with such rage as seeing Ponyo in B-Tier.

“When was the last time you watched this movie?” You ask, almost demand. Jisung pretends to think for a moment; his soft lips pursing together in contemplation.

“Uhh… when I was twelve.”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” You reach over to his laptop and grab it, typing furiously to find a pirated URL for the movie. “We’re watching Ponyo tonight. No buts.”

“Fine,” Jisung says, extending the ‘e’. Out of the corner of your eye you spot him picking up the empty plastic containers of your dinner. He pouts, lips jutting out exaggeratedly when he finds the tins utterly empty. “Aww man, no more food. I’ll go see if there’s any leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Okay,” You idly reply, too busy trying to bypass the stupid ad pop-ups on his computer. You mash a couple of buttons, open and close a few tabs, and boom, you’re in.

Meanwhile, Jisung has gone and returned from the kitchen. In his hands he holds a random box of chocolates that he tosses into your waiting hands. “Found these in the back of the pantry. Probably Minho’s.”

You open the cardboard flap and dig your hand inside, pulling out a rectangle-shaped chocolate wrapped in pretty red tinfoil. You don’t care to read the name—the room is too dimly lit to see anyway—and rip open the package, finding two square chocolates waiting for you.

“Huh,” You comment, holding up the two chocolate pieces. “I’ve never seen chocolates that come in twos before.”

A hand snatches one of the chocolates away and you turn to see Jisung chewing. His adams apple bobs as he swallows. “Mmm, cherry. You should try it.”

You glance at the singular square held between your fingertips, and shrug before popping it in your mouth.

An hour later, you and Jisung are curled up together watching Ponyo. From glances and little remarks here and there, he seems to be enjoying it, and thank god he does. You couldn’t stand seeing Ponyo be misplaced any longer.

During a particularly captivating underwater scene, you reach for the box of chocolates—only to find the insides empty. You blink for a moment, tearing your eyes away from the screen, and realize you and Jisung have eaten them all.

“Aww,” Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance, but you remove yourself from the pile of blankets to toss the box in the trash. Your best friend remains engrossed in the movie, only shifting to adjust his glasses.

You think to check the brand on the box before you throw it away. It would be nice to get again, after all. The chocolates tasted pretty good—

“Jisung.”

The serious tone of your voice jerks your best friend back into reality, and he hurries to pause the movie. His gaze flickers up to yours with a slight level of concern. “What’s up?”

“These chocolates…” You audibly gulp, and your mind swims from reading the label on the box. “I don’t think these are regular ones.”

“Then what are they?” Jisung crawls over from his side of the couch and leans over your shoulder. His breath tickles your neck as he speaks. “Weed?”

You point to the packaging. It’s sensually decorated, with elegant lettering and a good number of red hearts littering the front. Right in the center are two words: aphrodisiac chocolate.

Jisung’s eyes bulge wide open and he blinks several times. “Sex chocolate?!”

“Yeah,” You let out a breathless, winded chuckle. Your eyes are equally as wide as his. “How many did we eat?”

Over the next minute, you and Jisung rummage around the couch and collect as many wrappers as you can. With each find, you’re more and more flabbergasted—assuming you two had an equal amount, you can say that you probably had ten to twelve chocolates…each.

“Holy shit,” is the only thing he can say for the next minute. You check the back of the box and discover more lovely news: the recommended amount is one to three squares per person.

There’s silence for the next couple of minutes after that.

The two of you must look so stupid, crouching over copious candy wrappers, dumbfounded by your dual idiocy. What the fuck were you going to do?

Jisung attempts to answer that question in breaking the silence. “So essentially…we’re gonna get super horny.”

“Yeah,” You respond, wincing. “I’m kind of trying not to think about that right now.”

“Well- I mean- You- I- ugh,” Jisung rubs his temples sorely. For once he’s completely serious, no giggles, no jokes. It concerns you as much as it frightens you. “How long until it kicks in?”

“A few hours, it says.”

“Any way to reverse the effects?”

“We already ate the chocolates, Sungie. I don’t think we can get them out.”

“Fuck,” He stares at the empty container. “What are we gonna do then?”

You open your mouth to respond and find it dry. Suddenly you’re hyperaware that in an undisclosed amount of time, both you and your best friend will be incredibly horny. In an apartment together, with no distractions. Just you and him.

You’re tempted to run for the hills. Grab your bag and race home to deal with it all on your own, rather than face this volatile situation and the can of worms that is your undeniable attraction to a man you swore never to date. It feels like the better situation for a split second; enough for you to place one foot on the ground in an effort to stand up from the couch.

Jisung’s head whips up immediately, and the panicked, almost desperate flash in his eyes freezes you in place. It’s almost a plea, a look that stirs something deep in your gut: Please. Don’t go.

You sit back down.

“So…wanna watch the rest of Ponyo?”

By the end of the movie, Jisung moves Ponyo up to A-tier. Normally you’d gloat in his face and criticize his judgmental movie taste—but you can’t seem to get the thought of the chocolates out of your head. It doesn’t help that he's uncomfortably close, his hoodie brushing up against your shoulder with every breath.

He doesn’t say anything as he shuts the laptop, doesn’t look at you as he leans back on the couch. His eyes are distant. Unfocused, dazed like you’ve only seen when he’s dead drunk.

You only need to wonder why for a moment before you notice just how burning hot you are.

Your shirt tightly sticks to you like a vice, and your head fogs like smoke filling the air. The thick pulse in your chest can’t seem to subside, and you feel your skin heat up more with every second that passes.

One sensation rushes in even stronger, an ache from your lower half. Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily, feeling for some sort of relief, any sort of relief. God, you’ve never wanted a dick more in your entire life.

And your best friend happens to be sitting right across from you with one.

Shit. No. You can’t think that way about him; you shouldn’t look. He’s your best friend—but your gaze moves on its own and hones in on the very obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

You glance upwards. Jisung’s cheeks are flushed. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. He can’t seem to stop swallowing. His pretty dark eyes are not trained on yours but on the way your thighs press against each other for friction. He stares as if he’s devouring you whole.

“Jisung?” You say softly, your voice almost hoarse in your throat. There is no need to whisper. It’s just you and him, in his apartment together, alone.

“…Yeah?”

“Are you feeling it too?”

Jisung still can’t seem to look you in the eyes. He nods, slowly.

You crawl closer.

“Fuck,” He sputters out breathlessly. His hand reaches up to shakily adjust his glasses. Sweat seems to drip down the side of his face and off his chin. He wipes it away.

You inch closer, and with every shuffle you hear Jisung’s breath grow more ragged. His hands move all over himself— adjusting the gray sweatpants you want to ruin so badly, make a mess all over and cum on, brushing away the same strand of hair over and over. He still can’t seem to look at you.

Finally, you arrive right in front of him. You sit with your legs spread wide, your shorts doing little to cover up the arousal starting to drip down your thigh. Your knees, planted on the couch cushion, brush against his legs. His breath stops.

You reach up and gently grab ahold of his chin. Slowly, you turn his head so he comes face to face with your equally flushed face.

“Oh my god.”

In an instant, Jisung’s lips press against yours; he practically climbs on top of you, pinning you down into the furniture. His arms reach and wrap around whatever he can as he drinks from the taste of your lips in a dizzying rhythm. It’s insistent, messy, desperate. Your mouths move in a tangled dance, hoping each to swallow the other whole.

His fingers find the bottom hem of your shirt and hook underneath it to tug it up. You oblige and revel in each and every touch you can get.

Your shirt is shoved above your breasts, and Jisung doesn't bother to unclasp your bra—opting to move the fabric aside instead. He breaks the kiss to ogle at your bare chest. His eyes are lidded and you swear that his pupils are heart-shaped, and he sighs, almost dreamily. Like he's seen a piece of heaven.

“God, you're fucking beautiful,” He mutters from above you. “I'm sorry, I just can't....”

His words send a rush of heat straight to your core, and you whine. Next thing you know, he has his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart so he can slot himself between them.

The friction of his pants against your clothed clit makes you keen—usually you aren't so sensitive, if not for those chocolates. Every sensation seems to be heightened.

"Sungie~" You whimper as Jisung rocks his hips against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. He leans down to capture your lips in his once more, hungry for the hints of chocolate he tastes.

Everything is sloppy and coordinated; he grinds into you like a bunny in heat, groaning at every bit of friction between his gray sweatpants and your cotton shorts. It's hot and stuffy, but you've never felt so good in your life.

"Feel so good, shit-" Jisung mumbles between messy kisses. His glasses are fogged and hanging half off his nose, but he couldn't care less. "Wanna fuck you so badly- you want that? Want me to fuck you- ah, god~ like you deserve?"

Jisung shoves his head down into your chest, burying himself between your two mounds as he presses up on you from below. He kisses your skin and moves slightly to suckle on your right nipple, making you keen. His soft boba eyes peek out to look up at you, dazed and sick with sticky desire.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, throbs under the way Jisung's clothed cock hits your clit repeatedly. You want him to fuck you so bad, need your best friend's dick to split you open.

"Fuck me please," You beg, your voice trembling and thoughts hazy with lust. You've never begged for a man before, but Jisung is simply different in every way. "Please, Jisung, Sungie, please-"

He audibly groans, as if the sound of your voice gets him any closer to heaven. He wrenches himself away from your cunt to slip down his pants just enough for his thick, veiny cock to slip out. Meanwhile, you can't resist slipping your hand under the waistband of your shorts, to your needy wet cunt. You rub your clit with two of your fingers, whining softly at the stimulation of your swollen bud.

Suddenly, Jisung's hands wrap around the hem of your shorts and panties—he tugs them down all at once, exposing your sobbing pussy to his greedy view. You look up and his eyes are hungry, lidded and clouded with want, zeroed in on your cunt. You think he might be drooling.

Jisung hurries to press his cock against your wetness. He's shaky, almost trembling as he guides his mushroom tip through your folds, his breath coming out in stutters.

Even with just the tip, it's big. You feel like you're split open, and every inch of his cock entering your pussy sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. It doesn't even hurt with how wet it is, and he slides in like warm butter. He practically collapses onto you as soon as he bottoms out, his head buried in your neck.

His cock twitches inside you, and you realize through the haze that Jisung isn't moving. He's whining softly, breathlessly, but his hips do little more than tremble.

"Jisung-"

"Don't," He shushes you. His voice is raspy and desperate, and he mouths at your neck between words. "I-I'm trying not to cum."

You whine, wanting any sort of friction—but Jisung doesn't budge. Then you squirm a little, just to feel it a little more, and both of you let out audible moans. He grabs your hips roughly to hold you in place.

"F-fuck-" He swears, and there's a growl in the back of his throat. "Are you trying to get me to cum inside?"

The idea of his cum filling you up sends a rush through your bones. You inadvertently clench around him, and the grip on your hips becomes so strong it might bruise.

"Y-you want it that bad? Fine then. Fucking take it."

Jisung starts a relentless pace; he groans into your neck and holds your hips down so you take every inch of him with every thrust. His tip brushes up against your cervix sweetly, and you keen, your hands tangling into his black hair.

"You're so wet baby-" He mutters, stamping in a word between rough thrusts. "So. Fucking. Tight. God, bet no one has made you feel this good, huh? Say it."

You can barely find the words, letting punched-out moans every time his cock kisses your cervix. "Y-you're the only one, Ji!"

"That's it," He says, his pace speeding up impossibly faster. He's hardly going in a pattern, just bunny fucking into you like there's no tomorrow. "This pussy belongs to me, doesn't it? All mine~"

Jisung changes his grasp; he gets a hold of your thighs and spreads them so he can fuck you deeper. It's a welcome change—and you remove one hand from his hair to clamp over your mouth, your moans becoming unabashedly noisy. Your eyes squeeze shut and roll back behind your eyelids. "O-oh Jisung, that feels good-"

"Baby, baby please, I gotta cum- gonna cum inside, want that? You want that?" He says, and his hand shakily moves to rub his palm against your clit.

You cry out, about to tip over the edge. You want it more than you've ever wanted anything in your life. "P-please!"

Jisung groans loudly, not bothering to muffle the noise as he cums inside. You cum at the same time, whimpering into his tangled-up hair. His hips stutter but they don't halt; he fucks his cum into you lazily. You whimper at the sensation of his warm cream filling your insides. It's messy and deliciously wet.

"Jisung," You mumble out, still feeling a burning ache. You're addicted to the pull of his cock inside your walls. "I- I want-"

He interrupts you with a groan; then his hips begin to pound into you once more, moaning into the skin of your neck. He simply can't stop, even when you let out a high-pitched cry.

"I'm sorry baby- just had to. Your pussy is sucking me in-" Jisung grunts. His voice is nearly drowned out by the wet squelch of every thrust into your creamy cunt. "Just one more, one more, that's it~"

You feel like you're being folded in half from the way he presses you down, your thighs moving to rest on his shoulders. He ruts into you with reckless abandon, and his hands find themselves digging into the couch on either side of your head.

Jisung lifts his head up so it's right above yours, and you see him for the first time in what feels like ages. His glasses are long gone, and his lips are slightly ajar as he groans senselessly with every thrust. The pinkness of his round cheeks and the lidded pleasure in his eyes matches yours; he leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.

You moan into his mouth sweetly, and he hums in delight. There's no rhythm to the way he kisses you and fucks you—just pleasure-driven madness, desperation to feel you in every way.

"Mine," He mumbles, almost to himself as he pounds into you desperately. "Gonna cum in you again, fill you up~ my baby, all mine-"

You clench despite the tired ache in your thighs. You want him to cum in you over and over, spill his semen and let him fuck it into you again. You want him completely, irrevocably.

It's this thought that sends you over the edge for a second time; you wail, unable to make out any words as a wave of pleasure washes over you. Jisung messily kisses you throughout, muffling the sounds that escape your lips with his own.

He thrusts a few more times, groaning senselessly into your mouth before finally cumming again. Another warm sensation floods your insides and you sigh in satisfaction.

Jisung crumples onto your body and simply lays limp on top of you. Neither of you can bring yourselves to move.

"Best sex ever." He croaks out with a hoarse voice, and you laugh tiredly.

The next morning, you wake up on the couch. Jisung is laying next to you, his body tangled with yours. He stirs as you shuffle and pull yourself up from the cushions.

"Morning," You whisper, and he responds with a soft hum. His hair is adorably chaotic and worsens as he runs a hand through it. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," He says, and sits up with a groan of pain. "God, my joints. I feel like I blew out my back."

You notice a similar soreness in your thighs, but you tease him regardless. "You old man."

"Shut up," Jisung replies with no real malice. He looks down at you with surprising affection, his boba eyes twinkling with joy. You can't help but smile at the sight.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You say, an amused breath leaving your lips.

"Nothing," He grins cheekily. "Just that I got to have sex with my best friend who I've liked for an entire year."

You blink in shock, and Jisung giggles. "What? You're surprised?"

"No, I mean- yeah," You find yourself stumbling over your words, a pink blush appearing on your cheeks. "I mean, we did fuck yesterday, I just didn't expect you to say it so...bluntly."

"Well I did," Jisung lowers his voice to a soft whisper. He leans in close so his lips nearly brush against yours. "I like you."

"I like you too," You reply bashfully, and you can't resist kissing him. It's slow and saccharine sweet, nothing like the desperate messes you were yesterday. He sighs like a love-struck teenager as you pull away.

"Minho's gonna kill us," He mumbles dreamily. You burst out laughing.

[d3arapril]

[reup] birthday girl | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 4.6k warnings/tags: alcohol consumption (they're tipsy), switch!paige, oral (r!receiving), fingering (p&r!receiving), sex toys (p!receiving), spit, language, assplay (r!receiving) ᡣ𐭩 as many of u are aware i accidentally deleted my account - luckily i have managed to recover this gem! if you're thinking hm i swear i used to follow her - YOU DID! please re-join me on this journey and please re-indulge yourselves in this dirtiness for BDB PB's birthday. reblogs are appreciated more than ever given the circumstances lol ! :D love u all x

You sway slightly on your feet, the alcohol making your head feel lighter than it should as you fumble to light the candle on the heart-shaped cake. Your socks shuffle on the cool kitchen tiles, the slight friction grounding you as you flick at the lighter.

"Need help?" Azzi peeks over your shoulder to watch you flick at the lighter. When the small flame finally ignites, you both let out a victorious "Ah!"

"Nope," you pop the p, turning to smile at your friend. "I got it!"

You'd organised a small get together with close friends for Paige's birthday at her request. Not too much, she'd insisted when you'd first asked her what she wanted to do. So, of course, you made a list of those she actually liked and invited them over.

Now, you're standing behind Azzi as she leads you out of the kitchen and shuts off the lights. You hold the cake up with both hands, lips in a tight line as you focus on holding it steady. Admittedly, you'd all had a bit more to drink than originally planned. Tiktok's were filmed, drinking games were played and shots were consumed.

The girls break out into an out of tune rendition of happy birthday as soon as you enter the room, toothy grin plastered across your face when you lock eyes with Paige. She's smiling right back at you and although the room is dark you can just make out the blush on her cheeks.

She blows out the candle and her index finger swipes through the icing decorating the edge of the cake. She sucks it into her mouth, eyes still trained on yours. "Mm," she makes a noise in her throat. "Tastes good."

It's almost like slow motion, the way her mouth closes and her tongue comes out to lick at her lips. It's all you can focus on– her. You shake it off, not letting yourself get lost in the moment in front of all of your friends. You place the cake down onto the table and just like that the party continues, more drinks are poured and the night wears on.

A few hours later, most of the girls have called it a night. Now, it's just you, Paige, Azzi, Kayla and Kk remaining. You're squished between Paige and Kayla on the couch, Paige's right leg slung over yours. You're trying your best to listen to the conversation going on around you, but the mere feeling of Paige's skin on yours makes it harder to concentrate.

"You want another?" Paige’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. She gestures to the red cup loosely clutched in your hand.

You glance down at it and shake your head. "Nah, I’m good. I think I’d actually like to remember tonight," you say with a chuckle.

Paige laughs softly, her hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "Smart move." She turns to Kayla, nudging her gently. "What about you? Tapping out?"

Kayla glances at her phone, her eyes widening slightly as she reads the time—1:29 AM. "Wow– I didn't realise it was that late." Kayla yawns as she stands up, ruffling at Paige's hair. "It's not your birthday anymore, Bueckers."

"It's still my day, though." Paige pouts, leaning her head back to look at Kayla. Always such a big baby.

"Yeah, yeah, birthday girl," Kayla laughs, ruffling Paige’s hair before heading to the door. She glances over at Azzi, who’s now half-asleep, sprawled across Kk’s lap. "You guys heading out too?"

Azzi and Kk exchange tired glances before they, too, gather their things. After a round of group hugs, the door finally closes, leaving you and Paige alone in the now-quiet living room. You survey the aftermath; red cups litter the floor, empty bottles are stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

“Jeez,” you mutter, shaking your head at the mess. “This’ll be fun to clean up tomorrow.”

Paige hums in agreement, her arms suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind you. She pulls you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I had a good night,” she says softly, her breath tickling your ear. “Thank you.”

"No need to thank me," you smile. "I had fun, too. Did you have a good birthday?"

"The best," her arms squeeze you a little tighter, nose nudging at your cheek. You lean back into her, hands covering her own. "Thank you baby."

"Anything for you," you smile, tilting your neck back to look at her.

"Really?" her head tilts towards you as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Always."

She hums, her hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing gently as she leans in closer. "Not to be greedy," there's a pause as she gives you another squeeze, lips ghosting down your neck. "But where's my gift?"

Paige grins against your neck, the curve of her lips brushing your skin. “Maybe,” she murmurs before her teeth lightly nip at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

"You gonna give me something good?"

Her lips are against your pulse point now, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. A sigh escapes your lips and you reach your hands up and back, fingers tangling in her hair. Paige's hands roam your body, trailing up and down your sides before one cups at your breast.

"Paige," you moan softly, her name escaping your lips as her mouth finds yours. The kiss is slow and deep, both of you still tasting faintly of vodka and cherry, the alcohol mixing with the heat between you. Her hand cups your jaw, angling your face just right as the kiss intensifies.

She pulls away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. Her breathing is ragged, voice low as she pants, "Bedroom."

Your fingers interlock with hers, feet padding softly against the floor as she leads you down the hallway. Her thumb rubs soft circles into the back of your hand and it's a subtle reminder of how much she loves you.

Paige stops outside of her bedroom door and pauses. Her eyes are soft and there's a smile gracing her lips. "What?" you smile back, free hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, just." her hand lifts and squeezes your wrist. "I really love you, s'all."

You roll your eyes, playfully. "You're such a sap,"

"You gonna let this sap eat your pussy, orrrr..?" she smirks as she drags out the word, opening the door to her room and pulling you in. She pushes it shut behind you, tipsy fingers fumbling with the lock.

The room is surprisingly bright, the main light still on from when Paige must've last been in there. "You left the light on," you say monotonously which earns you an eye roll from Paige. She doesn't respond, just flicks her head towards the bed as an instruction for you to get over there.

"Someone's eager." you grin, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit her bed.

"Mhm," Paige hums, stepping closer to you. She pauses for a moment, as though she's figuring out her next move. "Turn over."

Your knees are weak as you flip yourself over, resting on your hands and knees. She wastes no time, making quick work of pulling your leggings and panties down your thighs. She lets out a moan at the sight of you, exposed and waiting.

"Damn," she mumbles under her breath, hand running along the curve of your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Now this is a birthday cake."

Your head drops between your shoulders, laughter shaking your frame. "Wow, P. That's corny."

"Shut up," she's giggling, too, but there's a tone of authority in her voice. The sound of her kneeling behind you is audible and the feeling of her presence looming over you is enough to keep you quiet.

Her hands grip at your ass again and squeeze, nails digging into the soft skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a gasp leaving your lips. A stray finger traces a pattern across the dimples in your lower back, lower, lower until it brushes over the puckered hole you're both yet to try. Yeah, she's pressed her thumb against it more times than she'd like to admit but she's never 'breached the surface' as she'd say.

"You gonna let me have here?" she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your spine. "It is my birthday, after all."

You hesitate, hand letting go of the sheets to reach back for her. "What about you?"

Paige squeezes at your forearm, "I'll get mine, don't worry."

She moves your arm back down beside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your ass. She pulls your cheeks apart, breath warm against you. "Can I?"

You moan out a yes, dropping your forehead against the mattress. Paige wastes no time, head dipping down and licking a fat stripe up your pussy, tongue sliding between your folds. She's sloppy, spit mixing with the slick that now coats her chin. She's moaning into you and you wish you could see how this looked from the outside.

You're shaking in front of her, fingers twisting and tugging at the sheets. She pulls away for a second, gathers the mixture of her spit and your juices in her mouth and spits it back onto you. She rubs it in with her thumb, digit ghosting over the ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Paige," you groan, shaking hand blindly reaching back to pull her closer, push her away- you weren't even sure at this point.

The girl hums, thumb stilling. "You want me to put it in?

You nod, cheek flat against the mattress.

"Speak to me."

"Please, please." you beg.

"Please what?"

"Fuck," you groan, inhibitions leaving your body. "Do anything, please. Eat my pussy–my ass, please, please–" You're so desperate you can barely even recognise your own voice.

"Relax baby," Paige coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your ass cheek. "I got you."

You feel her pull away and you're about to protest, kick your feet out at her and cuss her out until you feel her shuffling around on the bed behind you. You use the little strength you have remaining to push your head off of the bed and you see her lying on her back, half of her body hanging off of the bed. Damp fingers squeeze at your ass, dragging you back just enough so your pussy is directly over her mouth.

She's back at it like she never left, sucking your clit into her mouth and massaging her tongue over it. Her thumb finds home against your ass again, pressing against your hole as her tongue teases over your folds. The pressure is immense, the tip of her thumb slipping past the tight ring of muscle and you choke on air. You're not sure if it's a good or bad thing that you can't breathe, everything in you constricting, heart hammering against your chest.

You press against the mattress and hold yourself up, now fully kneeling over Paige. You brush the blonde strands from her face, your girlfriend's eyes fluttering open to lock onto yours. As soon as you make eye contact you hear feel her moan into your pussy, thumb sliding an inch deeper.

Your hips grind against her at their own accord, fingers now knotted in Paige's hair as you moan out into the cool air of her room. Your stomach tenses, thighs working overtime to hold you up. The chord in your stomach grows tighter and you open your mouth to warn Paige that you're about to cum but your words get lost in the mess of moans and pants and incoherent syllables.

It washes over you like a tidal wave, orgasm rattling your entire body. Paige moans into you the entire time, tongue messily sliding over your pussy as she laps you up. Her thumb leaves your ass with a pop and she presses her head back into the mattress just enough to be able to breathe out a "You good?"

Shaking legs shuffle you down her body until you're sat on her stomach, grimacing at the stickiness between your thighs. Paige can't help the laugh that leaves her, hands rubbing up the fronts of your thighs as she takes you in.

"You look fucked."

"Well," you pinch at her side, "You fucked me good, birthday girl."

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, hands leaving your thighs to grip at your ass cheeks. She squeezes, tongue licking around her lips. Her lids flutter shut as she tastes the remnants of you against her, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

You watch her silently from above, fingers trailing across her chest. Her shirt sticks to her skin slightly, sweat beading across her body. "Want this off?"

She nods, eyes opening. "Please."

You clamber off her and watch as she pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it into a random corner of her room. Her sports bra follows and she mindlessly rubs her hands over her chest, grateful she's no longer constricted by the material.

"So," you start, pushing her back by her shoulder and ghosting your lips across her nipple. She's flat against the bed again and you're perched beside her, ass up and feet kicking out as your tongue peeks out to lick at the sensitive nub. "How do you plan on 'getting yours'?"

You recite the words she'd said to you earlier and she snickers, back arching slightly when you suck her nipple into your mouth. "I got something-" she sucks in a breath when your teeth bite into the swell of her breast, pink mark left in their wake. "Something in the drawer."

Your eyebrows perk up at that, leaving one last kiss against her tit as you climb off the bed and saunter towards her bedside drawer. You pull open the rickety drawer and there's a purple wand staring right back at you.

You turn back to look at her, watching as she shuffles up the bed, head now resting on the pillows. "How long have you had this?"

Paige shrugs, a smug look on her face. "Got it a couple days ago. A gift from me, to me."

You fish it out of the drawer and inspect it, it's fairly heavy- three heart shaped buttons on the purple rubber handle. "Have you used it?"

"Nah," she taps her fingers against her stomach, nonchalant. "Wanted to use it with you."

You let out a hum of approval, turning back to face her. She's propped herself up on her elbows, legs bent at the knee and open. Her thighs are spread wide, fabric of her navy shorts stretching across the expanse of the muscle.

You sit at the end of the bed, turning the toy on and letting it vibrate against the palm of your hand. "It's intense," you muse, not able to mask the smile growing on your features. "Did you deliberately choose this?"

Paige's blush deepens, feet kicking out to hit your thigh. "Shut up, no."

You can't help but laugh at her, crawling forward and leaning down to press a kiss just above her bellybutton. She's watching you carefully, waiting to see what you're going to do.

"This is new," you say, watching the way her breathing changes with every gentle touch. "I usually have to work to get you like this, but you're so–" you bite down on her skin, letting her feel the dull ache before sucking at the mark. "Are you becoming needier in your old age?"

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's no real venom in her words. Her abs are drawn tight and she's got her hands fisted by her sides; she's clearly desperate. "It's my birthday, be nice."

"Need I remind you," you flick the waistband of her shorts and boxers against her skin, pulling at them slightly to hint at her to lift her hips. She does as you wish and you slide them off of her, abandoning them at the end of the bed. "It's not your birthday anymore."

Paige makes a sound in the back of her throat, hips raising as she tries to get you to touch her. She's been on the edge since she saw you walking towards her with that cake in your hands, the amount of love you have for her so evident in your expression that it drove her fucking insane. She feels her entire body burning up, thighs shaking as her hands clutch at the sheets.

You settle comfortably between her legs, head dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"What do you want me to do? I'll let you pick, my treat."

She rolls her eyes at that, breath shaky as she answers. "Use the thing."

You lean forward, lips ghosting over hip bone. You breathe out a laugh, tongue licking against the skin. "The thing? Like the movie?"

You feel Paige tug at your hair, an annoyed whine leaving her throat. "Stop fucking with me, please."

That's enough to satisfy you, dipping down lower to place a chaste kiss against her clit. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling, hips canting up to catch your mouth. Your tongue peeks out to lay flat against it, slowly moving your head up and down to provide just enough friction to make Paige's toes curl.

"Fuck," she breathes out, head tilted back against the pillow. "Need more."

Your right hand blindly fumbles around the bed for the wand, left hand now busy rubbing slow circles into her clit with your thumb. Her abs ripple, chest heaving from the feeling of it all. It's so much, yet nowhere near enough at the same time.

As soon as you press the on button the toy springs to life again, loud vibrations humming out into the air of the room. It almost makes your entire arm shake from how intense it is but you prevail, sitting up slightly to trail it between the valley of her breasts.

"What're you-" Paige cuts herself off, the both of you not able to contain your laughter because she sounds like some sort of fucked up robot when she speaks, the vibrations distorting her voice.

"Just," you lift the toy away from her chest to press a kiss to her lips, both of you smiling against each other. "Relax, enjoy it babe."

You trail the wand further down her body, letting it rest just above her clit. Her hips tilt up again, head lolling forward so she can watch. Your free hand presses against her stomach, keeping her flat to the bed.

"I said, relax."

"I am relaxed."

You scoff, not giving in to her attitude. You keep the wand where it is, just out of reach from where she needs it most. You move the hand from her stomach and let your fingers tickle against her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Your fingertip trails against her folds and, as you expected, she's soaked. It wasn't too often you'd swap roles like this, let her fully relax whilst you took control of the reigns but you knew she enjoyed this. Loves letting you do whatever you want to her.

You let a single finger dip between her folds, sliding up, down and then sinking inside of her. It's not much of a stretch from how wet she is, slides in easily. You pump the singular finger in and out slowly, eyes trained on Paige's face.

She's got her eyes screwed shut, head still lolled on her shoulder. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout. You hover the vibrator just above her clit and when you press it down against her, her eyes shoot open and eyebrows raise in shock.

"Holy shit," she gasps, one hand wrapping around your wrist whilst the other shoots up to grab at the pillow beside her. "That's– fucking hell."

Her mouth is wide open, tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit in a daze. The room is filled with the sounds of the toy and her moans, her hips lifting off of the bed to chase the sensation. You press the wand down harder, letting it buzz against her clit. You can feel it vibrating through your arm and the vibrations are strong, making you wonder just how powerful it is. You make a note to get her to use it on you, next time.

You move the toy against her in slow circles, slipping another finger into her pussy and curling them up. "Good?"

Paige's chest is flushed, heaving with each deep breath she takes. It's almost like she doesn't know what to do with herself, head tipping back to the pillow and then tossing to the side. "Yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse. "Good."

Your thumb reaches up to press at one of the buttons to increase the intensity, vibrations now pulsing against her. She whines, high pitched and strained as it all becomes too much. Your fingers curl faster inside of her, the squelching from her pussy just audible over the vibrations from the wand.

Her hips tilt up faster, feet slipping against the mattress as she chases the feeling. If she could see herself she'd be embarrassed by how easily she's succumbed to the pleasure, scrambling against the bed pathetically. She can't think straight, only able to focus on the feeling of her orgasm approaching.

"It's-" she can barely get her words out, sweat making her body glisten. You watch her with a smirk on your face, satisfied. "I think-"

"What's wrong, babe?"

Paige's eyes are rolled back in her head, head tipped back and neck on show. There's a blue vein stretching across the length of her neck and you find yourself leaning over her and dragging your tongue against it. Paige jumps at the feeling, broken moan leaving her chest. The hand that was wrapped around your wrist moves to your shoulder, blunt nails biting against your skin.

You're still moving the toy in slow circles, rubbing it against her clit. Paige is moaning, groaning- gravelly noises leaving her throat as the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair. She moves her head to face you, watery eyes boring into your own.

"Gonna cum," she whispers against your lips, barely audible over the noise from the toy. "Fucking–feel it in my chest."

You bite at her bottom lip, teeth pulling at her pout. Your nose presses against hers as you watch her unravel, watch a tear spill from her eye and drip down her cheek. "Yeah, birthday girl?"

Your fingers speed up, curling so quickly you fear they might end up cramping. Your wrist begins to ache from holding the toy, too but you keep going because it's all worth seeing your girlfriend like this.

The blonde lets out a combination between a cry and a moan, thighs squeezing around you and keeping you trapped as she cums. The vibrator slips a little from how wet she's become but you're quick to put it back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she's chanting out to nobody in particular, thighs tightening and feet kicking against your back. You let her do it, let it happen as she goes silent. You feel it before you hear it, her hips rolling up and thighs shaking against you as she floods your fingers, and then- "I'm fucking-fucking cumming, oh shittttt."

The words leave her through gritted teeth, fingers finding their way under your shirt to scratch against your skin. You lean back to watch her in all her glory; head craned back against the pillow, nipples hard and hair matted against her forehead.

Your fingers slip out of her first and you sit them on your tongue, licking around them and moaning from the taste. You turn the vibrator off and chuck it beside Paige who is breathing so heavily you think she might pass out, eyes closed and lips dry.

You rub a comforting hand against her thigh, a soft touch to keep her grounded. You cast a glance down to her pussy and you can see the wet patch underneath her on the bed, dark and soaking into the cotton sheets.

"Wow," is all she says, body relaxing against the bed. Her eyes open and she softly smiles as soon as she sees you, shaking hand resting atop of your own. "Happy birthday to me."

You opt to lay beside her, leg kicked over her thighs with your head resting on her shoulder. "Feeling okay?"

"Honestly," she tucks her chin in to look down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Doesn't count if you brought it for yourself, though." you counter, tilting up to look at her. You catch her rolling her eyes at you, the hand she'd settled around your waist digging in below your ribs.

"'Kay, where's my gift from you then?"

"Don't be greedy, Bueckers." you tease sliding out from beside her and walking towards where your bag was abandoned several hours ago. Paige lets out a whistle as she watches your ass as you walk away from her, rolling onto her side.

"Where you goin'?"

You ignore her, rummaging through your back to look for the jewellery box you'd so carefully wrapped last weekend. Much to relief you find it still intact and spin around, holding it behind your back as you saunter back towards Paige. You make sure to grab her clothes on the way, throwing them in her direction.

She raises an eyebrow at you, pulling just her boxers back up over her legs and an oversized t-shirt over her head. You do the same, keeping the box in your hand as you put her shorts on.

"A gift for little old me?"

You have to resist rolling your eyes at her, crouching down so you're at the same height. You hold the small box between you both and hold your gaze with Paige, watching as her eyes light up in anticipation.

"I remember looking at them a while ago," you start, thumb stroking against the patterned paper. "So I got 'em."

Paige frowns, unsure of what you're talking about. She takes the box from you, unsteady fingers pulling at the wrapping paper. She discards the paper beside her on the bed and opens up the box slowly, eyes widening when she sees what's inside.

"You didn't-"

"Don't say a word." you cut her off, knowing she was about to go on a spiel about how she didn't deserve this, how you shouldn't have spent the money, blah blah blah.

"How did you remember?" there's a hint of shock in her voice, as though she couldn't believe you'd remember something that she thought was so insignificant.

You smile at her, taking the box from her and pulling out one of the rings. They're just two simple silver bands with a small heart etched on the inside; nothing too flashy but you vividly remember Paige fawning over them in the store. "We should get matching," she'd suggested to you, nothing but a passing comment.

The ring slides onto her finger with ease and you thank the Gods above that you'd picked the right size. "Feels like we're gettin' married," she snickers, holding her hand up to admire the ring. "Lemme put it on you."

"Nuh-uh!" you whip your hand away from her, wiggling your fingers in the air. "I need to wash my hands after your little performance."

Paige laughs, shoving at your shoulder with no malice. She stands up from the bed, groaning from the ache in her legs. She wraps hand around your arm and pulls you up and into a hug.

"I love you," she mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Thank you, for everything."

You pull back slightly, scratching at the nape of her neck.

"I love you too," you lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[izvmimi]

cw: senku accidentally makes an aphrodisiac and fem!reader helps him out... minors dni! smut but no penetration. american colony au.

Senku rarely makes mistakes, ever, but as Gen has so often pointed out, luck is very often not on the young man’s side - in fact, luck seems to avoid him as though punishing him for refusing to leave his life up to fate. 

Minutes after he’s taken the potion that had been designated by the village doctor as an analgesic, he realizes quickly he’s made a grave one. Sweat beads on his forehead as he breathes in, the very action of drawing in a breath serving to increase the deafening drumbeat in his ears. Thump, thump, thump. The heat clouding his mind right now as he tries to remember where exactly he went wrong, what could have possibly happened to have him in fetal position, tensed up everywhere but especially in the space in between his legs.

Top shelf, to the right. A small vial stopped up with a cork.

Cork. It shouldn’t be a cork, he remembers suddenly. She had said the bottle might be hard to twist open. He must have taken something else. What else could explain the fact that all the blood coursing through his body seems to have collected to one place only, giving him the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life?

The scientist can’t claim to never have thought about sex. After all, he’s young and healthy and as curious about his body as anyone else, even if he’s not so easily persuaded by the prospect of soft round breasts or plush thighs as others, and he prides himself in knowing the basic workings of everything including that particular type of recreation. 

Now it’s all he can think about as he shivers and flushes, blood gorged cock throbbing and desperate to be touched in any way, shape or form.

He’s initially thankful that he was struck by this affliction while hiding away in the lookout tower  in the middle of the night because of its privacy and the ability to rub one or ten out and hopefully turn into a logical human once again, but once he can hear the familiar soft pad of your footsteps approaching up the stairs, he’s repetitively cursing his rotten luck under his strangled breath. 

Scrambling from his position sat in the corner, back against the wall, he quickly finds his way onto a chair, but stumbles, and when your eyes fall onto him, he’s practically face down. 

“Senku?” 

Your voice is soft as usual, not completely sure it’s him in the dim light. Moonlight illuminates part of the wide room, and when he finally rolls over to a cross-legged position, doing his best to hide the embarrassing bump in his clothes, you look at him quizzically.

“Fancy meeting you here!” Senku exclaims. There’s an uncharacteristic upturn to his voice that is a cause for concern.

“You mean, in the tower you supposedly made for me?” you ask. Senku pales, but you’re already sliding down to sit cross-legged next to him. 

“Are you doing okay?” you ask. Leaning over to press a hand to his forehead, you frown at the dampness, while a shudder passes through Senku’s entire body the moment the back of your hand grazes him.

“I’m fine,” he says, coughing to cover up the strain in his voice. His body language is slightly turned away, and so is his face, because he can’t look at you, not like this. Desire pools in his chest heavily, so thick he can barely breathe, and your sweet voice is like water dripping onto an already overfilled cup.

“You don’t sound fine,” you muse. You think of yourself just weeks ago insisting on being left alone despite a raging pneumonia, and move in closer, a move that has him retreat like a trapped mouse. “Did you take the medicine for your headache like you were supposed to?”

Senku would roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fact that an accidental brush of your hand against his could make them roll into the back of his head.

“Your friend might be a quack,” he says, but then quickly adds in fairness, “...the truth is I think I might have picked up something I wasn’t supposed to.”

He laughs, and then feels his cock jump and scrambles to his feet to stand further away. You’re troubled by his anxiety and his refusal to look you in the eye and after a few more questions about his mental and physical state, you decide you’re tired of his dodging questions.

“Senku, what the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he lies. He’s thinking of a way to escape without you noticing, but you’ve moved now, and are standing right in front of him, far too close, and your upset look is simply too pretty, and he looks at you almost fearfully.

“I need to go,” he says, and tries to move past you, but you immediately block his path. 

“Senku.”

It only takes one look at the knit in your eyebrows to realize he’s not going to make out of this without the truth. He’s still flushing intermittently, and can feel the tip of his dick more exquisitely than any other part of his body. It takes him a moment to decide, but eventually he realizes he can approach this embarrassing predicament in the best way he can think of.

Logically.

“Whatever I took… I think might be having aphrodisiacal effects on me.”

You blink, bright eyes wide with every bat of your lashes, and he feels the genuine pull of yearning in his loins.

“Oh.”

Senku blushes, the warmth spreading throughout his whole body this time as you finally look down then quickly avert your gaze. In a flash, he wonders for the first time how much you know about sex. Are you a virgin? When was your first time? With who? Would you do it again? With him?

The last thought he immediately banishes from his mind, telling himself that it’s likely the effects of whatever potent concoction is clouding his rationale. Not now. If ever, not this way.

“I… I can help, you know,” you offer. Your voice is quiet, gentle and steady, the same way you speak when you talk to the animals when they misbehave, when you want to reassure without controlling. “Platonically, of course,” you quickly add.

Platonically. Of course. It’s just an urge, and you understand those animalistic urges pretty well, given your breadth of experience in the natural sciences. Just a want. It wouldn’t be a crime if…

You move in close, your hand hovering over his crotch but not touching him. You then look at him, asking with your pupils, and he can swear he can feel his dilate. He nods, and you let your fingers slip beneath the layers of fabric until they reach the slightly coarse grain of his pubes. Your lips part slightly as you move slowly; he’s holding his breath but the moment your finger grazes the skin of his firm shaft, he lets out a moan, covering his mouth immediately to shut himself up.

“It’s fine,” you reassure him. He’s embarrassed, suppressing pants, but you press forward, letting your fingers close around his shaft, one by one. Grip still awkward, Senku shifts, pulling down his pants further, and you pull your lower lip before your teeth briefly before you tug smoothly for the first time. He gasps, and you press your thumb on the tip, right at the orifice of his urethra.

“Have you ever done this before?” you ask, wondering if you should have asked earlier. The small talk is meant to make it more casual, less intimate, but he’s quick to shake his head and say no, breathily.

“Not by anyone who mattered.”

Your heart flutters and you move just a bit faster. Senku moans, throwing his head back, and you keep your pace.

“Is that enough? Are you feeling good?” You slip. You mean better. You’re not trying to pleasure him, you’re trying to help him. 

“Fuck, can you… more… can you-” he stops, then bites his lip. He’s breathing heavier now, the expansion of his chest much more noticeable. He glances at you for a moment, then quickly looks away. If he were to do what he wants to do, ask you for more, press his lips onto yours, would it be using you? Is he allowed to ask that of you? Is it just this… or something else?

Your hand has stopped but he’s whining now, bucking his hips into the base of your fist almost subconsciously. You grip tighter, then slide up and down his shaft again, pressing against the darkened tip more, now slippery with treacherous precum. It occurs to you for a moment that maybe, maybe just a bit more friction would help, and you take the initiative of spitting on your hand, then resuming and he moans, fingers pressed to the floor beside him tensing and tightening as he accepts your onslaught.

Straggled groans escaping his throat, his eyes close, and you watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows spit and desire. He’s thirsty, needy, unsure if this is making it better or worse.

And just at that moment, you ask, “Are you feeling better, Senku?”

Oh, the way you say his name, he practically spills into your hand. 

“D-don’t talk…” he begs, and your face flinches with hurt, but you remember that you are only helping.

“Mm.”

Your hand keeps moving, and you watch his cock throb and twitch in its grasp. It’s a pretty thing, you let yourself consider for a moment, pretty like the rest of him, eager, greedy… it has been a while, you think, since you’ve been so intimate with someone.

Not intimate. That’s not what this is. You’re helping a friend.

Senku grits his teeth as you spit on your hand again and your moistened palm swirls around his cock. 

There’s no reason for you to be so good at touching him like this. He exhales.

“I’d be a real piece of shit if I asked you for more, wouldn’t I right now?” he finally asks. He’s looking at the ceiling now, trying to contain himself, but how can he when you’re touching him like this and he feels better than he’s ever felt in his life. He’s only mildly coherent at this point, perhaps he should count backwards, perhaps…

“Tell me what you want, Senku, I’ll do my best.”

He turns, and you look at him in just that moment, but you don’t let go of him. 

His hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling you closer and he stops quickly, inches apart. 

You’ve closed your eyes, and you’ve puckered your lips just so. Senku swallows hard, wondering how he could have ever stopped but he knows why.

“It’s not the drugs,” he’s able to eke out. Your eyes open, gentle as they look into his, your lips still parted. Your hand shifts, palm rested on the edge of his warm length. 

“It’s not the drugs,” you repeat.

“I’d feel like this anyway, in this moment,” Senku says. A moment passes. Your tongues passes over your dry lips.

“Do you mean it?” 

Senku doesn’t hesitate, before saying yes.

You press your lips to his first, letting him press his way in and explore, letting him bite your lip and suck, and pass his tongue against your teeth, letting him tip your neck backwards and deepen the kiss. You kiss, and you move your hands and your lips part, and you dip lower, to make him feel pleasure like he’s never seen.

[vigilante-3073]

Would it be possible to write another Rosalie x reader x emmett fic? Reader would accidentally imprint on the couple and how they deal with the wolf. Sorry English isn’t my first language.

The Invisible String

Rosalie Hale x Emmett Cullen x Female Werewolf Reader

Summary: The relationship between the Cullen family and Quileute shape-shifters becomes complicated when an imprint brings them together once again.

TW: Mentions of death, nudity, violence, and relationships.

The invisible string theory states that certain people can be connected to each other by an unseen bond. This bond can exist for a person's entire life, drawing them closer to the one they were meant for throughout their lifetime.

It is believed that a person needs to endure certain challenges and changes within their life before they are ready to meet their soulmate. The universe has a plan for everyone and it will always work out how it was intended to.

Y/N had been a member of the Quileute pack since her sixteenth birthday. Her transformation had been incredibly difficult for her and fitting in with the tribe was also a challenge. Y/N had been the only female werewolf for years until Leah Clearwater joined the pack.

Leah's arrival made things easier, but Y/N still felt like she didn't fit in with the wolves. Y/N befriended Jacob and they quickly became close, she didn't have many other friends and she cherished their relationship.

Y/N's newfound bond with Jacob helped her to feel closer to the pack. They were her family and should be everything she needed, but she still felt like something was missing.

Y/N learned about the existence of imprinting, she knew that her person had to be out there somewhere, but she began to lose hope as the years went by. She watched as other members of the pack found their imprints, trying to be supportive while feeling her heart break. Y/N figured that there was an exception to every rule and maybe she was it, maybe there wasn't anyone out there for her.

Some people just never got a happy ending and she thought that she could learn to accept that.

Then she met Emmett and Rosalie.

The feeling was impossible to explain, it was like her whole world had been turned on its axis and the ground fell out from beneath her feet. Her entire life had been leading up to this moment, all of her growth, changing and suffering finally felt like it had served its purpose.

Y/N was ready to lay down her life for these people and she didn't even know their names. Edward almost couldn't contain himself when he realized what had happened, looking between them with a smirk.

Y/N stared at Emmett and Rosalie with an awestruck expression. Her heart was racing in her chest and butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach. Y/N was at a loss for words and a part of her just wanted to leave the house and never return.

Jacob felt the change in his friend and looked between the vampires in the room nervously. The newfound bond could be viewed with hostility and he knew that Y/N would never recover if she was rejected.

Y/N had longed to fit in for her entire life and although their life together would never be conventionally normal, it could be beautiful. The relationship would be complicated, but Bella had managed to maintain her relationship with Edward despite their differences. It was possible and Jacob hoped that they would consider it without shutting her down.

Edward scoffed softly, listening to the flurry of thoughts coming from the two werewolves in the room, "This is Y/N and she just imprinted on the two of you," Edward stated, looking over at Rosalie and Emmett.

The room fell eerily silent as Emmett and Rosalie shared a look. Alice smiled to herself as she watched Emmett step away from Rosalie and approach Y/N.

"I'm sorry," Y/N mumbled instinctively.

"Welcome to the family," Emmett smiled, leaning down to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug. He lifted her off her feet, holding her close as her eyes filled with tears.

Jacob smiled softly, glancing over at Renesmee as he remembered what the imprint had felt like. It was overwhelming, but it was also a kind of love that he had never experienced before.

Emmett set Y/N on her feet and rested his hand on her back, guiding her over to where Rosalie stood.

"I'm Emmett and this is Rosalie," He said, gesturing to his partner.

"I'm Y/N," She said softly.

"It's nice to meet you, Y/N," Rosalie smiled.

Jacob watched them as they talked, he wondered if his own imprint had softened them to the idea of Y/N's. He had to admit that his imprint had definitely occurred under some rather extreme circumstances. Jacob hoped that he helped the Cullen family to understand what it truly meant to imprint.

The universe had an intricate plan and everyone had a part to play, allowing things to unfold exactly as they were supposed to. Y/N may have taken more time to find her imprints than other members of the pack, but the waiting was definitely worth it.

...

Y/N slept soundly in the large king-size bed that Rosalie and Emmett had procured for her. Her nighttime activities often left her exhausted and having a private space to sleep in the Cullen home made sense.

Y/N often found herself wandering out of the woods and into their bed in the early hours of the morning. The time that Rosalie and Emmett spent watching over their little wolf while she slept had quickly become their favorite part of the day.

The fridge was stocked with food and the doors were always open for Y/N whenever she needed. Rosalie had even taken up cooking in order to feed Y/N healthy meals while she stayed in their home.

Y/N rarely returned to her own house at this point, instead choosing to spend every waking moment with the Cullens. The family had welcomed her with open arms, never questioning their love for each other.

Their relationship began quickly after Y/N imprinted, the connection between them was elaborate and intense. The vampires were fiercely protective of their mate and made sure that she had everything she could possibly need.

Emmett made his way into the bedroom, smirking when he noticed a small twig sticking out of Y/N's tangled hair. He reached for it before his hand was smacked away by Rosalie, she sent him a look before moving to the other side of the bed.

Emmett and Rosalie got into the bed carefully, trying their best to avoid disturbing their mate. Rosalie picked up her book from the nightstand and opened it to her previously bookmarked page. Emmett laid on his back, smiling to himself when Y/N turned in her sleep and snuggled into his side. Her arm draped across his stomach, her leg slipping between his as she shifted closer to him. Her skin was boiling hot and Emmett enjoyed feeling the heat that radiated from her body.

They stayed with her for hours, simply enjoying their closeness as the sun began to filter in through the large windows. Rosalie had offered to purchase some blinds to keep the sunlight out, but Y/N refused. She liked waking up to the sun, basking in the warm rays as she recovered from her nighttime activities.

The vampires never rushed her, always allowing her to wake up in her own time. Emmett loved to hold her, laying in bed by her side for hours at a time. Rosalie joined them on a few occasions, but she preferred to sit beside them reading books or flipping through magazines.

Rosalie had always been more reserved with her affection, she showed her love through acts of service and gift giving whereas Emmett elected to offer words of affirmation and physical touch.

They were everything Y/N could possibly hope to find and she knew that they were meant for one another.

...

Y/N eventually stirred from her slumber in the late afternoon, snuggling closer to Emmett with a soft hum. He looked down at her with a smile, lips pressing to the crown of her head.

"You finally coming back around, sweetheart?" He questioned.

She nodded wordlessly, eyes fluttering open slowly as she adjusted to the light in the room. Rosalie set aside her book, reaching over to carefully pick the twigs and leaves from Y/N's hair.

"What did you get into last night, my love? You're bringing the entire forest into bed," Rosalie teased softly, setting the debris on the bedside table.

"I don't know," Y/N mumbled.

"Busy night, huh?" Emmett teased, she nodded.

"Do you want me to draw you a bath?" Rosalie offered.

"Only if you join me," Y/N replied.

"I could never say no to you," Rosalie stated, tucking a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. She hummed, tilting her head in the direction of the gentle touch.

"Hey, where's my invite?" Emmett asked.

"She might need two baths with all the debris I just pulled out of her hair," Rosalie mused with a smile.

Y/N opened her eyes as her stomach began to growl loudly, "Jeez, someone's hungry," Emmett laughed.

"I'll go make you something. Why don't you help her get washed up, Emmett," Rosalie proposed.

"It's my pleasure," He smirked, Rosalie shook her head with a smile before she got out of the bed.

Rosalie went to the kitchen in order to make some food while Emmett slid out of the bed. Y/N watched him walk into the ensuite bathroom, listening as he began to fill the bathtub with warm water. He returned to the bedroom after a few minutes, watching Y/N stretch with a large yawn.

Emmett slid his arms underneath her body, lifting her into his arms easily before carrying her into the bathroom. Y/N shivered as he set her down on her feet, "Just a minute, babe," He muttered.

Emmett helped her undress, holding her hand as she stepped into the bathtub before sinking into the warm bubble bath with a sigh. Emmett watched her with a smile, "Hot enough for you, sweetness?" He questioned.

"Perfect," Y/N nodded, settling back against the tub. Emmett sat down on the stool behind her, hands settling on her shoulders as his thumbs kneaded her tense muscles.

Y/N's eyes fluttered shut, "You sore today?" He asked.

"Yeah, but I'll be fine," Y/N said.

"You sure? I can see if Carlisle has anything for you," Emmett offered, still massaging her shoulders.

"No, I'm okay," Y/N assured.

Rosalie made her way into the bathroom with a bowl of fruit and some toast on a tray, "I didn't make anything fancy today," Rosalie stated.

"Everything you make for me is amazing," Y/N assured.

"Let me get out of your way," Emmett said, standing up from the stool, "Mind if I join you in there?" He questioned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Y/N smiled, "Not at all," She said.

Emmett undressed and Y/N moved forward in the bathtub. Emmett settled into the water behind her easily, guiding her body back against his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Ah, that's the stuff," He sighed.

Rosalie sat down on the stool, poking a fork into a piece of fruit before holding it up to Y/N. She took the fruit into her mouth with an appreciative hum.

Rosalie continued to feed her until the tray was empty, she set it aside and grabbed a magazine to flip through while Emmett helped Y/N wash up.

"Ready to get out?" Rosalie questioned, Y/N nodded.

The blonde stood up from her stool, grabbing a fluffy towel from the rack before holding out a hand to Y/N. She settled her hand in her mate's, rising from the water and stepping out of bathtub.

Rosalie wrapped the towel around her before cupping her cheeks gently, "There, that's better," Rosalie mused. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her partner's lips.

"Thank you for taking care of me... Both of you," Y/N said.

"I have never known a greater joy in my life," Rosalie stated, running her hands down Y/N's arms before taking her hands. She gave them a gentle squeeze before tilting her head, "Go pick out your clothes. I bought a few new things for you," Rosalie said. She reached out and grabbed another towel for Emmett from the rack.

"You spoil me," Y/N smiled.

"You deserve it," Emmett replied, stepping out of the tub and accepting the towel that Rosalie held out to him.

Emmett wrapped the towel around his waist before his hands found Y/N's hips and pulled her body closer to him. She smiled, tilting her head up and meeting his lips in a passionate kiss.

Y/N pulled away, looking between her mates, "I'm really happy that I met you two," Y/N said.

"We're happy that we met you two, baby," Rosalie smiled.

[4ngels0uls]

Fuck me like you mean it. - C.S

Don’t like? Don’t read.

Summary: chris uses y/n as a pillow all the time until Chris uses his “pillow” and gets needy.

Paring: fem!read + dom!chris

Warnings: SMUT, choking, strong language, p in v, pet name, a little..𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂, squirting, etc

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for so long. AND LOL I THOUGHT THE 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 THING WAS FUNNY😭 Also not edited.

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First person

I sit in Chris’s bed as I wait for him to come back to his room. I’m laying down on my stomach as my legs kick in the are, biting my nails as I wait. I’m waiting for Chris because he just went out for lunch with his triplet brothers for a YouTube video. Matt has always been a bitch to me, sometimes but mostly. I wish Matt wasn’t so awful to me.

Nick likes me tho other than Matt. Nick likes me because I’m his best friend as he says, in fact I am his best friend and he’s my best friend. Chris is my best friend, I want to be more than friends with Chris though. Chris is one of the guys you would die to just fuck, or date.

but I want both.

————————————————————

I lay down staring at the roof as I zone out. I hear the front door open, there back. I sit there laying in the bed and Chris walks back in. “Oh I thought you went home.” He says as he puts his phone down and comes up above me and lays his head between my breasts. “no I was bored and I wanted to just stay here and wait for you.” I reply.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave. You’re my pillow” he says as he closes his eyes. I chuckle at his words and play with his hair. He accidentally bucks his hips to move up but as he does he realizes his hips are in between mine. “I’m so sorry…” he says as he grows a boner. “It’s fine.” I chuckle as he gets up and runs to the bathroom.

————————————————————

Those were just one of the moments that happened that I could have just fucked Chris right there and then but I missed my chance. We’re all watching a movie, sitting in the living room. “This movie is so fucking boring!” Chris complains. “Shut the fuck up kid” Matt argues. “Shh!” Nick says as his eyes are attached to the tv on the wall.

Chris looks at me and whispers. “can we go do something alone without these fuckers?” I chuckle a little at his words and nod. Chris stands up and hold his hand out in front of me. I take his hand and stand up. “Where are you to love birds going?” Matt asks. “Matt… Shit the fuck up.” Chris says boldly. “Seesh just a question.” Matt says In a sassy way. Me and Chris walk off to his room.

I close the door behind me. I walk over to Chris’s bed and flop down. Chris chuckles. “That movie was so fucking boring.” Chris says. “Yeah.” I reply. I crawl more up and lay my head down on his pillows. Chris gets up and sits in his gaming chair. “I wanna go live on twitch.” Chris says. “Then do it.” I say back. “Will you stream with me?” He asks. “Sure.” I say.

He loads up the stream and starts it as I sit beside him on a small chair. The chat flows in as everyone asks who I am since I’m never in their videos. “This y/n.” Chris says to the computer. I smile slightly. I shake my leg out of pure anxiety. Chris puts his hand on my thigh as he talks into the computer screen. I blush a bit as he puts his hand on my thigh.

Chris looks at me “you okay?” He asks. I smile and nod. “Yeah I’m fine.” I say. Matt barges in the room. “How come your streaming without me and ni- woah there…” Matt says. Nick follows up behind Matt as his eyes go wide. Chris takes his hand off my thigh almost immediately. “Shut the fuck up matt.” Chris says. Matt just chuckles and walks away. Nick also just walks away.

After a bit Chris ends the stream. He faces towards me. He grabs me and I gasp as he lifts me up. “Chris!” I yell as he lays me down and lays his head down on my stomach. “My pillow.” He says and I laugh. He traces shapes on my stomach. I play with his brown locks. His hair falling through out my fingers. Chris moves more up to put his head between my breasts.

“Chris?” I question. “mhm?” He hums in a raspy tone. I stay quiet for a second. “what’s the most fucked up thing you’ve ever done?” I ask. “hmmm… I really don’t know…” he sounds as if he’s hiding something. “you’re such a little babyyy” I tease. “nooo.” He answers. He crawls more up and burys his face in my neck. he kisses my neck slowly. “c-Chris?…” I mumble. “Hmmm?” He Hums.

He continues to kiss my neck and leave hickeys all over. He kisses up to my jawline and kisses me. I instantly kiss back. He puts his hand up my shirt, feeling my body. I let a soft whimper out by accident. Chris looks at me and smiles. Matt knocks on the door. “Fuck you want!?” Chris yells. “We have to go somewhere in an hour, y/n can come to!” Matt yells back.

“What is it!?” Chris yells. “A dinner with everyone. Like sam and colby and fucken Jake and Johnnie. All of them!” Matt yells. “Alright then!” Chris yells back as Matt walks away from the door. “We have a bit of time if you want to.” Chris hints to me. I smile. “Yeah I’m down.” I say back. Chris pulls his shirt off and kisses me roughly. I kiss back in the same way.

Chris tugs on my shirt, hinting to tell me to take it off. I Peel my shirt off of my body as he stares at my tits in awe. “fuck your beautiful.” Chris says quietly. I chuckle a little at his comment. He looks up at me “what? You don’t think you’re beautiful?” He says. “You’re starring at my tits while calling me beautiful. What do you think?” I say and he just shrugs.

He kisses my neck down to my collar bone. He kisses down my stomach and undoes the string to my sweat pants. He pulls my pants down and sees how soaked my underwear is. “fucking slut. Soaked like crazy when I’ve barely touched you.” He says in a soft tone. He kisses my inner thighs, teasing me and my core. “Chrisss” I whine. “so impatient, huh?” He says as he softly places his thumb on my clit through my underwear. I let a soft pathetic whimper out.

“Pathetic.” Chris mumbles as he slides my underwear off. “such a pretty pussy, huh?” He questions. “Mhm” I mumble not really caring. He places a soft kiss on my core. I whimper. He sucks on my clit making me gasp. “F-fuck..” I moan out. He shoves a finger in my core and sucks on my clit. He curves his fingers inside of me making me practically scream. He slaps his hand over my mouth. My hands grip on to his hand and he groans at the feeling. “Chris!” I mumble against his hand. I start to grind into his face.

He pulls his mouth away fast and i whimper from the loss of pleasure. “Such a needy girl.” He says as he shove his face right back into my pussy. My legs start to shake. “Chris!” I scream into his hand as I release my cum into his mouth. He pulls his mouth away and smirks as my cum drips from his chin to his neck. “Fuck you taste good.” He says with a whisper.

Chris pulls his pants down and his underwear as his dick slaps against his stomach. I lay down on my back and my knees up. “fuck me like you mean it.” I say as I there. “will do.” He answers back. He takes his dick in hand and jerks himself off a bit. Holy shit he’s big…. He slaps his dick against my aching core. He slowly slides himself in as i whimper from him stretching me out. “fuck Chris…” I mumble. “fuck your tight..” he groans.

He thrusts his hips a bit faster than he was. He leans down and he burys his face in my neck as he thrusts balls deep in me. “O-oh F-fuckk!” I moan against his hand. “s-such pretty noises.” He mumble into my neck and his balls slap against my ass. He speeds his pace up more as he practically pounds into me. “S-such a good girl, huh?” He says. I stay quiet as I have nothing to say. He sits more up and grips my hips fucking me way faster, fucking me dumb now.

“I- F-fuc- sh- Chris!” I scream into his hand again. “fucking take this dick.” He groans as a pounds into me and I scream. I dig my nails into his back and he hisses from the slight pain. He groans at the sight of me being fuck out. “Chris Chris Chris!” I moan against his hand. “S-such a pretty girl.” He groans and pumps into me. “Close!” I yell against his hand. “Just wait.” He says with dominance.

He pulls out and flips me over. He ties my arms behind my back. He slides himself back into my core. He holds onto my hips and he starts pounding into my pussy as he did before. He puts his hand on the back of my neck, choking me. My face smushes against the pillows. “Chris Chris!” I scream as I Cum around his dick. He does one last thrust as he fills me up with his warm load, Painting my walls completely white.

He plops down beside me as we both calm down from our highs. His cum slowly dripping out of me. He pushes me on my back and taps his dick on my clit. “are you really hard again?” I ask him and he nods. I chuckle a little as he pushes himself inside of me. I gasp at the exact pleasure I had before. He thrusts his hips, pounding into me making only moan his name over and over again.

He takes one of my nipples into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around making me moan louder. I bite my lip so I’m not so loud. He pulls his mouth away and pounds into me. “don’t bite your lip, I waist to hear those pretty noises.” He says. “Fuck! Wh-what about y-your brothers?” I ask. “let them hear how good I make you s-sound.” He says. I moan as he talks and he keeps pounding me. “mmm fuck!” I moan loudly.

“fucking little slut.” He says as he holds his hand on my neck while fucking me crazy. Tears flow into my eyes from the overstimulation. “you’re so fucking beautiful.” He mumbles as he burys his face into my neck, kissing my neck adding to the pleasure. “Chris!” I scream as I release. My visions going white as I release. “Holy fuck..” he says. “Did you just squirt…?” He chuckle. “My face goes red from embarrassment. “I think so…” I say with pure embarrassment.

He pumps into me one last time while cumming inside of me once again. He stays put as he fills me up. He pulls out of me slowly, making sure not to overstimulate me too much. He lays beside me.

“Did I actually make you squirt…?” He asks. “yeah…” I say. “That was the first time that happened.” I say quietly. “that’s fucken cool.” He says childishly. I chuckle. “wait.. the dinner!” I say. “Oh shit..” I get up and find something to wear. I walk over to my vanity and do my makeup.

We get all ready. “You’re so beautiful.” Chris says as he hugs me from behind. I smile as Matt yells. “Y/n, Chris! Come on!” Matt yells. We all get into the car.

We get to the dinner and me and Chris sit beside each other as then.. I feel his cum leak out of my stretch out hole. I blush and grab a napkin as I clean myself up as everyone is busy. The only one that notice was Chris. And he know exactly why I was doing that.

but at least… he fucked me like he meant it.

————————————————————

Little a/n

HERE YAA GOOO

this took me sooo longgg.

but yuh.

And byeeeede

𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

[voguelfoyy]

Dating Cho Hyun-Ju Would Include... (Headcannon)

cho hyun ju x fem!reader

a/n: long live our queen, hyun-ju. can't sleep so might aswell make something for my diva. i hope i didn't make her ooc in this.

warning: just fluff, english is not my first language, my opinion, not proofread yet

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

• HOME DATE NIGHTS, you love and appreciate when Hyun-ju takes you to a fancy dinner sometimes, but nothing beats a home-cooking dinner made by her. Hyun-ju is an expert when it comes to cooking her own meals. When you tell her that you love her cooking more than any fancy restaurant food, oh the joy and excitement that lit up her face. At that moment, she would try her best to pour all of her love into her homemade cooking just for you. Nothing but the best just for her baby girl.

• WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, hyun-ju never misses the chance to shower you with praises. Every day, every minute, every second, is filled with her telling you how pretty you are, how lucky she is to have you, and how proud she is of your work. Whether you two out on a fun date or just snuggled up together in your shared bedroom, she ALWAYS finds a way to express her feelings to you,

"Angel, you are so beautiful. I love everything about you"

"you look so gorgeous, even in your pyjamas, baby"

"do you even know how lucky I am to have you in my life?"

• HOLDING HANDS IS A MUST WITH HER!!! Hyun-ju would DIE if she can't hold your hand even just for a second. There was one time you accidentally slipped out your hand from her grasp when holding hands, and she would get all pouty and sad and make that puppy eyes to you like, "babyyy, why would you do that?". you're confused not knowing what she meant "oh no what did i do.." then you realized "oh, we're not holding hands."

• PICNIC DATES are Hyun-ju's favourite go-to date (bcz I said so). Since your shared apartment is close to a park, she often takes you there for a picnic. The first time she takes you for a picnic date was because she needed to save money; she couldn’t afford to keep taking you to fancy restaurants. However, she also wanted to make sure you felt special and enjoyed the time spent together. Then it became a habit; it became her favourite way to take you out. Even better than booking a reservation at a restaurant. Plus picnic dates + Hyun-ju's homemade food? Heavenly combo!

• last but not least, SHOPPING SPREE TOGETHER YIPPEE. It's a good thing Hyun-ju has you by her side when it comes to shopping, especially for dresses because she needs your most honest opinions on whether the dresses will fit her body shape. Would they look good on her? You're the expert when it comes to answering those questions.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

[moonylvs]

Be Careful!

Summary: You get a new piercing and the guys find out and maybe they worry a little too much!

This was a request!: 'Hello! Could you possible do a romantic Jegulus x reader who's obsessed with getting piercings and maybe the boys are freaked about watching her get one or keep accidentally hitting her new piercing and hurting them?' I think I changed the idea a bit but I hope you like it, anon!

Pairing: Jegulus x Reader

Words: 1.5k

ⓘ Warnings: None I think? mostly fluff! Use of yn once (English is not my first language so I'm sorry for the mistakes, I hope this doesn't stop you from enjoying the story!)

Piercings were nothing new to you, you'd had a few done over the years, mostly in your ears, you thought they were cute and you had a million earrings that you swapped out over the days.

But most of these piercings you had made before you started dating James and Regulus, so they never saw when you made them or the days that followed.

James absolutely adored them, when you cuddled he would watch and play with them, Regulus loved them too, sometimes he had even given you some earrings in the shape of a star or with thin chains as a gift.

That day you decided that you wanted to try another kind of piercing, not one on your ears, you thought about one on your lip or maybe your nose, but you didn't know how much the teachers at school would like it so you preferred not to risk it.

After a while of thinking you finally decided and hours later you had your piercing, it was one in the belly button, it wasn't painful and they told you it would heal fast, which reassured you.

You didn't tell anyone that you were getting it done, not thinking it would be important, besides you thought of giving James and Regulus a little surprise.

But that day you didn't have time to say anything, James was stuck practicing on the Quidditch pitch and Regulus had to tutor a third year boy.

You didn't think much of it, you waited until they were both free to tell them.

That moment came relatively quickly, because the next day after breakfast James invited you to Hogsmaede, he said he had already told Regulus so the three of you would meet there.

It didn't take you long to get ready, putting on a skirt and a not too tight white blouse, you didn't want your clothes to be rubbing against the piercing and cause you pain.

When you arrived at Hogsmaede you could almost instantly spot James and Regulus, who were sitting on a bench in front of a Honeydukes.

Regulus didn't take long to notice you, smiling slightly, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you.

James followed after, smiling broadly and standing up, walking over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“Hi love” Jmaes said sweetly, leaving a kiss on your forehead and wrapping his arms around your waist.

You smiled instantly, wrapping your arms around his neck and sinking into his arms, for a moment you forgot about your piercing, but quickly remembered it, as you felt a twinge of pain the moment your body touched James'.

“Ouch!” you couldn't help but let out a low gasp of pain as you felt the contact, instantly James pulled away, his brow furrowing with concern, in a second Regulus was already at his side, looking at you with the same concern.

“What happened? Did I hurt you?” James asked instantly, looking you over from head to foot for any sign of discomfort or harm, James thought maybe he had hugged you too tightly or had been too rough.

“No, no, I'm fine” You said instantly, giving him a reassuring little smile. “It's just that I accidentally crushed my piercing when we hugged” You said with some amusement, but only earned a confused look from both boys.

“Piercing?” Regulus asked with confusion, looking at your ears in search of a new piercing, but his brow furrowed as he didn't notice any new ones, he knew your piercings by memory so he would have noticed if there was a new one.

You couldn't help the slight chuckle you let out when you saw their confused faces, but you simply nodded.

“Mhm” You mumbled, lifting your white blouse very slightly so they could see your belly button, which had an earring that was silver and had a pretty light blue gem.

Both boys' eyes instantly widened, staring at the piercing in your belly button.

They were both silent for a moment, just watching it, they were totally shocked.

“Why didn't you tell us you were getting a new piercing?” Regulus said abruptly, his brow slightly furrowed and his voice sounding more serious than he intended.

Your brow furrowed instantly, watching him with some annoyance, did you have to tell them when you wanted to do something to your body?

“Why would I have to tell you?” You said with confusion and harshness, though your tone didn't sound entirely annoyed.

Regulus' face changed to one of confusion, he now understood that the question had sounded very bad and his tone of voice hadn't helped.

James noticed the tension instantly and quickly interjected.

“He didn't mean it like that!” James said instantly with some concern, making a denial sign with his hands, to which Regulus nodded instantly, his face paling slightly now he realized that you had definitely taken his question the wrong way.

“I meant why didn't you tell us so we could go with you or at least know so we wouldn't hurt you, like now” Regulus explained calmly.

Your face instantly relaxed, now you understood everything better.

“It was something out of the blue, I just wanted to do it and I didn't have time to tell you, I thought it would be a surprise” You said calmly, your face slightly embarrassed by the way you had reacted earlier.

“It suits you” Regulus said, tilting his head sideways and smiling slightly.

You could only smile brightly, feeling your cheeks flush red.

James next to him smiled too, but for a moment his face turned worried, now that he knew you had a piercing he felt bad for hugging you so tightly.

“I didn't hurt you, did I? God, I hugged you so hard didn't I? I'm sorry, if I had known-” James quickly began to say, repeating over and over again how sorry he was that he hurt you.

You couldn't help the giggle that came out of you at seeing him so worried, your hand went to his cheek, instantly silencing him.

“I'm fine, James, it was just a light brush, you didn't hurt me, okay?” you said softly, lightly caressing his cheek and leaving a kiss on his cheek.

“Are you sure?” James asked with a little pout, still worried that he might have caused you some pain.

“Mhm, but maybe a kiss would make me feel better” You said with a small amused smile, looking at his lips for a moment.

You didn't have to tell James twice, in a second his lips were on yours, leaving a soft kiss, his hands were on your waist, making sure to keep distance between both bodies, he didn't want to make the same mistake twice.

Regulus next to you just watched the two of you with affection, a small smile on his face at how careful and sweet James was.

“God forbid yn decides to get a lip piercing because that will be the end of you” Regulus muttered towards James with amusement when you and James finally broke away from the kiss.

James couldn't help but laugh, even though he himself knew that would be the end of him, the boy couldn't go a day without even giving you a kiss.

You instantly laughed, then moved closer to Regulus, cupping his cheek and leaving a kiss on his lips.

“Don't even mention it because I know you would suffer the same” You said with amusement, to which Regulus' cheeks turned pink, although he tried to hide it immediately, rolling his eyes.

The next few days were torture for both of them, James barely hugged you for fear of hurting you, but Regulus had found ways to stay glued to you, he spent most of the time holding your hand, or sitting you on his lap with his hands on your legs and not on your stomach.

James spent most of the time on top of you, watching you not to hurt yourself, you had tried to tell him that it wasn't necessary, that it wasn't even painful and he didn't have to worry so much.

But simply said, James didn't give a shit.

James spent all his time with you, walking in front of you in the corridors so that no one would accidentally hit you, always making sure that the clothes you wore weren't too tight so that you wouldn't hurt your piercing.

Regulus was a bit more reasonable, the boy asked you to let him take care of your piercing, to which you said yes, it was one less load and Regulus was very delicate.

Every day, when you woke up and before you went to sleep Regulus would clean your piercing, using soap and water with a wet washcloth, being careful not to hurt you, the black-haired boy would take his time and James would stand by and watch him the whole time, muttering a “Be careful, Reg” every now and then, to which Regulus would just roll his eyes, saying he was being careful.

The next few weeks it was like this, even though their concern was extreme for something so insignificant, you were grateful to both of them, because you were able to spend more time with them and enjoyed their care.

Although probably after a few weeks, you had started to get sick of the phrase "Be careful!"

This is so cute! I feel like I may have strayed a bit from the original idea of the request but I hope you like it! xoxo

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

To Love You (Platonic Yandere!Child x Monster!Reader)

Chapter 1: This child needs me

[part 0, here, 2]

CW: femme bodied GN Reader, monster stuff, accidental adoption, description of nudity (non sexual)

Avery stood as still as the trees he hid behind while he watched the thing become a poor imitation of his mother.

If he barely closed his eyes it would have looked like her, but with his brown eyes wide open, staring at it's nude form, Avery wondered if the monster even knew what a human looked like. Their body was the right height, but the shape was off; it had no breasts, nor genitalia. The creature had taken a quick look at the clothed woman and guessed what her body looked like.

Everything about the monster felt off. Like a mannequin come to life. The skin had no texture or character, no discoloration or birthmarks. The hair was a slightly wrong shade and a little too long. But the worst part of the being was it's face.

It whipped around, staring at Avery with eyes slightly too wide, showing the whites above and below the iris. It's lips were an absurdly red shade, as though it thought the lipstick the woman was wearing was her natural lip color. But what made the face really off putting was the fact that it was too symmetrical. Avery couldn't verbalize that that was what was wrong, but it didn't have the same human inconsistency that his mother's face naturally had.

And for a moment, Avery remembered every single time his mother grabbed his arm a little too tightly.

She never would have killed him. And he told himself that she loved him. But it didn't matter how often she would buy him ice cream after a big fight, or how sweetly she smiled at him, it didn't stop him from flinching whenever she raised her hand.

He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the same reason he had grabbed the steering wheel earlier.

Avery rushed forward, and held the monster as tightly as he could.

(Reader) was filled with confusion. Not only was their disguise less than passable, but they were positive that the little boy saw them kill his mom. So why did he hold onto them as though they were the hero?

Their hand reached down and slid over his dirty back. Thoughts of ripping out his spine and eating him as well filtered through their mind, but instead they went on autopilot, as though their true identity had not been exposed already. "Let's go home."

Avery slowly released the monster, looking up at them with large, teary eyes. "Okay.. mommy."

(Reader) gently held the boy's hand in their own, and allowed him to lead them to the damaged vehicle.

It was much more advanced than the last time they saw a carriage, but this wasn't the last time they slept through major technological advancements. They would adapt. They always did.

Tiny frozen fingers squeezed (Reader's) hand to get their attention. "It's too broken to drive. But there's a coat in the back."

The monster looked down, remembering their nakedness. Unlike humans they did not feel the cold, and when they were in their true form they had no need for clothing.

Ripping open the smashed door with ease, (Reader) found a long winter jacket that when they slid it on fell to their knees. Avery still stood by their side, expectantly holding out his arm stiffly so he could hold their hand again. Although it always took a bit for the ancient one to get their mind in order after a long slumber, even they could see that the newly orphaned child was an odd one.

It wasn't customary to ask questions. They just killed people and replaced them. Those who learned of their true nature were also killed. And it had been that way for as long as (Reader) could remember. They had been both man and woman and those who were neither; they had spoken many languages in many skins and lived many lives. But this child was holding out his hand, knowing that they were not his mother.

"Which way is home?" They asked, their voice parroting the sound of the woman screaming her last words, calling out for her child.

Avery still held out his hand expectantly. "Down the road. It's really far."

The creature looked at his hand, then at his small legs, and realized how long it would take if he meant that they lived at the bottom of the mountain. They grabbed him under his arms and easily swung Avery onto their back. Perhaps they would keep him alive, just until they found a better family to cleanly assimilate into.

"Am I heavy?" Avery asked with a surprised tone.

"No." (Reader) almost found his question amusing. Did he not see them rip the car door off?

The six year old thought about when he was sick the year before, and purposefully acted more pathetic than he felt because he wanted his mother's attention. How he sobbed loudly because he was too ill to walk to his bed from the couch. So his mother left him to sleep out in the living room.

It was dangerous, but the idea that this creature was his savior, and not just a monster, gave the child more confidence than he should have had, given his situation. "Are you a girl?"

".. No."

".. Are you a boy?"

sigh "No."

"Oh.." The boy leaned down harder into their back, snuggling into their hair. They didn't smell like their mom's shampoo, they smelled like dirt after the first rain in a long time. "Can I still call you mom?"

(Reader) tried to recall if this had ever happened to them. Had there ever been a time that someone learned of their true nature, and still wanted to pretend like everything was fine? They remembered the last time someone figured out that (Reader) was a monster. The poor wife had snapped, months of little clues here and there had convinced her that her husband was not her husband, but no one would believe her. Not until she stabbed (Reader) in the chest, and the thing that looked like her husband did not die.

"Yes, you may." (Reader) didn't know why they were amusing the human like they were. But it felt very warm when he constricted his arms around their neck like a snake.

He smiled into their hair. Avery didn't know it, but he was just as confused as (Reader) was. "My name is Avery. Avery Jones. What's your name?"

The creature paused. They knew their name. It was the name of a human they took a long time ago. But they wouldn't tell that to this kid. That the only name they ever thought of as their own, was the name of a child who's life they stole, a child they lived as. It was the longest they pretended to be human. It felt nice. All those years ago. They couldn't remember now what that face looked like, nor why they were so attached to it, but they became (Reader).

"I am now your mother.. What is my name?"

"Luanne. Luanne Octavia Jones."

(Reader) mimicked a laugh, their smile equally as wide on their top lip as their bottom lip. "What a terrible name!"

"Oh..I'm sorry.." Avery tensed up.

"I think I'll prefer Mom."

They felt him relax again. The longer the two walked, the more intriguing the child became. (Reader) murdered his mother. They bit her head in half. They tore her apart, ripped off her limbs, and ate her while he hid not too far away. Perhaps he was in shock?

"Do you know what I am?"

Their eyes opened harder than what was physically possible. Why did they ask that?

Avery wiggled a little. "A hero? Like the Martian Manhunter?"

"What is that?"

"A cool hero from Mars! He helps Superman! And he can change into stuff!"

(Reader) could have scoffed. Them? A hero? But the situation was slowly starting to make sense. 'And so, I am a hero..'

His body was lighter than (Reader) remembered human children to be, and they wondered if it was normal. He wasn't much shorter than the average child, but his body was like a housecat's. "How old are you, Avery?"

"Six."

Older than I thought..

(Reader) carried the boy for well over two hours before another automated carriage passed by, slowing and pulling off towards the tree line behind them. Avery sleepily mumbled "It's the police.." as the monster halted their steps.

An officer stepped out, a younger man with hard eyes squinted in suspicion, and approached the two travelers.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?" His green eyes glanced down at their bare legs and dirty feet.

His question woke Avery up, as though he only just then remembered that his mom was not his real mother. "We were in an accident." The boy stuttered out.

"An accident?" The officer looked up the road briefly. "Are you two alright?"

"Ye-"

"Ma'am, where are your shoes?"

He interrupted (Reader), and they immediately considered killing him. But it was a good question. What were they supposed to say? A mostly naked woman had been found descending the mountain with a child on her back, was strange, most definitely concerning and possibly nefarious. Could he tell that under the long jacket they were nude?

Avery was panicking. They could feel his breathing hitch and hear his heart speed up. "We flipped our car! And- and-"

"I hit my head." They responded more monotonously than they intended. "I don't remember the accident, and I don't know why I took off my clothes." (Reader) reached up and ran their hand across the back of their head. Obscured by their hair and the angle, only Avery saw as one of their nails grew quickly, slicing open part of their scalp, just enough to get blood on their fingers.

The policeman's eyes relaxed their suspicious gaze when they brought their bloody hand out. However, it almost instantly bounced back. "Have you been drinking tonight?"

"No."

"Have you taken any illegal substances? Any medications you've been prescribed?"

The questions were aggravating (Reader). "No."

"Any medical issues I should know about?"

"She's bleeding!" Avery cried out.

"Alright, calm down. I'm going to bring you down to the station. Do you consent to a blood test?"

The police were.. interesting. Having been so many people, the creature was not dumb to the inequalities humans forced upon other humans. They remembered how one body would be treated very differently than another body, but even with having experienced it, if they saw a naked woman walking along the woods, injured, it felt natural that sympathy would have been expressed. Or at least, sympathy for her presumed husband. It didn't matter. Luanne had not fully finished digesting. If they wanted blood for a "blood test" (whatever that was), they could easily supply it. They just hoped that Avery's mother hadn't been drinking. Which was another interesting development. Had the humans made alcohol illegal again?

No matter how unfair this treatment was, (Reader) knew it would get Avery out of the cold sooner. And if things went sideways, they could easily kill this man.

"I do."

Avery was nearly hyperventilating and his grip had tightened like a vice. "Why are you being so mean?!" Tears started to bloom as his voice wobbled. "We had an accident! My mommy was bleeding and took off her clothes! She was just confused, and, and, and that's why she can't remember!"

The man went rigid, and was almost uncomfortable. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?"

"YES!" The boy cried out, shaking against (Reader's) spine like a small dog.

He eyed their legs once again. "Why don't you wait on the back seat, and I'll grab you a blanket?"

It didn't take long for another, larger and brighter colored vehicle to arrive, with people who were much more sympathetic than the officer. One of the men even seemed to be berating the officer while another person checked (Reader's) body for injuries.

"She seems to have a concussion, so I don't know why you would jump to drugs-"

"Look are what she's wearing-"

"-I watched a young man take off his shoes and hide them in a cabinet when he suffered a traumatic brain injury, okay? People do weird things when they're in pain-"

"Still I think-"

"-She should be going to a hospital. They'll test her for alcohol there, but her head is still bleeding, and she has no signs of intoxication other than 'her clothes' and her lack of memory, both of which can be explained by trauma."

The blue clad worker shined a light in (Reader's) eyes, which (Reader) manually dilated to resemble a human's natural response. They continued focusing on their heart rate and breathing, mimicking Avery's as he leaned against their shoulder. "I think it would be best if we take you to the hospital." The person with short hair smiled kindly.

"I just want to go home.. I can't remember anything that happened today, but my son is tired."

"Well.. I can't force you to go to the hospital, but I can call someone to come get you? And recommend that if your memory worsens, or if you feel confused, if you start throwing up, can't sleep, randomly pass out, or develop a fever, you go to an ER as your concussion could be something worse, like an internal brain bleed."

"Someone you could call..?"

"Dad's still at work." Avery whispered.

Ah. So I am married. This new information didn't sit well with (Reader). They had been married before, plenty of times actually; but what kind of man was he if his wife was like Luanne?

Overhearing this, the paramedic chastising the policeman volunteered his services on the officer's behalf. "If you don't have anyone you can call, Officer Delaney can drive you home. But I do suggest you let us take you to the hospital."

"Thank you." (Reader) could see the two men shudder as they smiled at the both of them. "But I'm really tired. And I just want to go home."

"Alright then.. don't hesitate to go to a hospital if your symptoms don't improve." The man shifted his eyes uncomfortably.

(Reader) returned to the police car, Avery securely tucked under their arms and on their hip. Their attempt at human expression had frightened both the medical professional and the officer. "I will."

The little boy held on to (Reader) more aggressively than he ever remembered holding onto his own mother.

It was peculiar.

Had (Reader) ever felt this way before? They had felt attachments before. Held and loved, but those feelings were easily thrown away whenever their hunger reared it's ugly head. But this wasn't the connection of a family loving someone they assumed (Reader) was.

This little boy was not clinging to Luanne Octavia Jones.

Avery was clinging to (Reader).

[s4pphicghost]

doing ellies eyeliner ⋆｡˚ ❀

first post !! hope you guys will like it <3 (im sorry for mistakes, english is not my first language) feel free to correct me/give advice!!

!! palestine links !! & !! daily click to help !!

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your girlfriend frowned and crossed her arms at your words. "seriously? me and makeup?” she looked at you doubtfully. "yes!!" you cried out happily, “i’d really like to see how eyeliner would look on you.. please, ellie”, you looked at her with a soft, sweet look, trying to mentally convince her. the girl rolled her eyes jokingly. you were so excited by the idea, she just couldn’t upset you with refusal.

“okay..”, she sat on the bed, leaning on her hands and watching in a relaxed position as you rummaged through your makeup bag with enthusiasm. “gonna sit on my lap?” ellie grinned playfully. “only if it makes you more comfortable” you glanced at her and sat on her lap. she wrapped her arms around your waist and looked into your eyes. her touch sent pleasant goosebumps across your skin. you placed your hands on her cheeks and she leaned into your hands… you couldn’t help but smile. “close your eyes and don’t open until i tell you to”

ellie obediently closed her eyes. you spent a few seconds admiring your girl: freckles randomly scattered across her face, cute thick eyebrows and that scar... the features that made her stand out. you stared long enough, she realized what was happening, smiling without opening her eyes. noticing her reaction, you got down to business. you carefully traced the tip of your eyeliner along her lash line, trying not to move too fast. such thick and dark eyelashes, they always impressed you and you loved it. silence filled the room. you were so close to her, you could hear and feel her breath on your hands. the moment felt kind of intimate, it made you slightly nervous. your fingertips gently stroke the girl’s cheeks. she seemed very calm and relaxed, unlike you. ellie frowned when your movements became more confident, her eyelids twitched from your touch out of habit. you accidentally moved your hand with the eyeliner in the wrong direction. “fuck..” you whispered through a dissatisfied sigh and stood up from her. "whats wrong?" the absence of you in ellies hands, even for a few moments, upset the girl.

“you’re twitching too much, the line is crooked..” you returned to her lap with a cotton swab in your hands. she raised her head again. "too ticklish." she said sharply, her voice filled with playful annoyance. you carefully wiped away the crooked line of the eyeliner, trying not to press too hard on her thin skin. “be patient a little longer baby”, you kissed her forehead softly and again did your best trying to draw perfect lines. the girl put her hands back on your waist and squeezed a little, pulling you closer. she smirked in satisfaction, without opening her eyes. you melted under her touch, but you tried to keep your hand strong and make confident movements, even if your hands were a little shaky. after a few minutes of suffering, you got more or less accurate triangles. “open your eyes..” you closed your eyeliner and looked at your girlfriend with admiration. she frowned a little “ugh, this thing tightens the skin..”

you smirked contentedly and placed your hands on her shoulders. “you look so cute.. i knew this shape would suit you.” the girl smiles back at you, happy that you are happy with the result. “you’re such a pro”. “you didn’t even see it!”, you exclaimed, quickly got up from her lap and ran for the mirror. "here.." the girl was slightly surprised by her reflection. “wow.. this is really good,” she said, looking at herself from different angles. the eyeliner really did highlight her eye shape well and the forest green color of her eyes seemed to pop out more. “im surprised i even like it". a smile spread across your face and you began peppering your girlfriend’s face with endless amount of soft, small kisses. she laughed softly, feeling the warmth of your lips that made her blush a bit. her arms are wrapped tightly around your waist.

"what's next? you’re gonna dress me in your evening dress?” she asked jokingly through your nonstop kisses. you paused for a couple of seconds and looked at her. the delight on your face made it clear to ellie that she just made a big mistake. her eyes widened with slight embarrassment. "oh fuck no..."

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i would be really grateful for any feedback!! ty<3

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

Christmas with the monster trio.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji x gn! Reader

Cw: English is not my first language, teeth rotting kind of fluff, kind of suggestive at some parts? (But nothing actually happens)

Notes: I really need to stop accidentally pressing the publish button instead of save. Hope you enjoy!

Luffy 1k

The entire ship was filled with excitement and festive spirit, from the kitchen you could smell at least ten different dishes that you just knew your mouth would water at. Everyone was there, Usopp was telling Chopper about a time he had supposedly fought against a giant candy-cane-looking fish in order to get Kaya the perfect gift, Brook was playing music besides Robin and Franky while Sanji gave the finishing touches to the food and Zoro and Nami were having a drinking competition to which you were the judge.

Yet your captain was nowhere to be seen.

The past few days Luffy had been talking your ear off (and that of whoever would listen to him) about how excited he was for Christmas and how he couldn't wait to exchange gifts and eat all the banquet Sanji would prepare for the occasion. So it was kinda weird when he simply disappeared in the middle of the evening.

The beginning of a fight between the crew's swordsman and the red head navigator pulled you out of your thoughts, behind you Sanji approached the table to offer some snacks and take Nami's side on the dispute, even though he most likely didn't even know what they were fighting about. In the midst of the moment you took your chance to leave for the deck of the ship, you felt the need to know were your captain had ran off to.

The night air was chilly, Christmas lights had been put up all across the deck, which made the task of seeing where you were going all the easier. Everything was calm, except for the sound of the crew back inside, and something else, something akin to a well known laugh, a 'shi,shi,shi' in the wind.

Giggling to yourself you followed the sound all the way to the figurehead of the ship, and sitting there, in the dim light, was your captain with his hat on and his back facing you, you could see his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Oi, captain" you called out "what you got there?"

Luffy's head, had he not been made out of rubber, might have snapped from how quick he turned around. The grin on his face widened to a radiant smile and his laughter grew in loudness.

A rubber hand grabbed you from your lower back and with a whip you found yourself on your captain's lap. Suddenly your face wasn't as cold anymore as you could feel all your blood rush to your cheeks.

"Watch'a got there, captain?" You question at Luffy, whose other hand was behind his back as if hiding something from you, his laughter had become an almost silent giggle which he clearly was trying to keep in.

''Imma need ya to close your eyes" He told you whispering, getting close to you enough for your noses to touch. You complied and closed your eyes, being then able to feel his breathing on your eyelids.

Something almost weightless was dropped onto your lap, nothing told you what it could possibly be but you trusted your captain to not give you anything awfully dangerous or something of sorts. While you were trying to figure out what the object could possibly be you almost didn´t notice a few strands of hair caressing your cheeks.

"You can open your eyes now" came the low whisper of Luffy right by your ear, sending shivers down your spine and sparking little giggles. Luffy took a moment to bask in the warmth of your laughter before finally going back to his previous position, allowing you to see what he had left on your lap.

It was a cilinder. At least that was what it had the shape of, a cilinder the size of your head made with paper and a wire structure of sorts. And staring back at you, drawn on the cilinder with colorful paintings were two figures. It took you a little while to really figure out what the drawing was, first you saw a blob of yellow and red with a black blob right underneath it; but the more you saw it the more you were able to put together the picture, the blobs of yellow, red, black and pinkish were a drawing of him, and right next to him were you.

The you on the drawing was smiling brightly and you could barely see your own eyes from how they were almost closed and squished on top of your cheeks. Bliss, could be a word used to describe how you looked, completely and utterly happy.

"Ya´ like it? It´s us, I was gonna add more color to the rest, but ussop hid the rest of his paints so I wasn´t able to" Luffy´s explanation almost fell on deaf ears, your eyes felt like they were burning and tears started to gather on the corners of them only to fall down your cheeks leaving a trace of warmth, like little rivers that carried all the love that Luffy gave you since the day he met you.

Your tears took him by surprise, but instead of panicking as many others would he just started laughing. Loud and unapologetically, exactly like he was.

In between your tears you didn´t see were he got a match from, but he lifted the cilinder and made you hold it while he lighted something inside of it. The interior lighted up and made the drawing even brighter, the warmth that now emanated from it gave you a cozy feeling.

Holding with you what you now knew was a floating lantern Luffy slowly lifted it into the air and let it go. It took you a few more seconds to do the same, your fingertips grazing the paper as a goodbye. From behind you both more lanterns ascended onto the sky, looking like orange stars, and looking over your captain´s shoulder you could see the rest of the crew lighting lanterns and releasing them.

That seemed like a nice tradition to keep for Christmas.

Zoro 730

Who would say that decorating a Christmas tree could be so complicated? To be fair the damn thing was almost the same height as the mast of the ship but you had grown tired of climbing up and down the stairs in order to hang up the decorations.

Luffy at the very least was stretching his arms to reach higher and add details that he thought looked good. You weren´t a huge fan of hanging sandals on the christmas tree, but from where you were standing you could barely see them, and besides, captain's orders.

What you could not figure out however was what Zoro could possibly be doing. You had seen him when you all had started decorating but had lost sight of him since then. Tired of the stairs you chose to find the swordsman instead and kill some time until dinner.

You put your hands in your pockets to keep them from the cold and to search for the little bag you had stored there. A sigh escaped your lips, a small cloud of mist to show your nerves regarding giving zoro a gift.

Sure, it was Christmas Eve, everyone was giving gifts and you had gotten one for everyone, expensive dresses for Nami and Robin, a big piece of cotton candy for Chopper and you even got a present for Brook! even though he almost always got on your nerves along with Sanji.

But for whatever reason the gift you got for Zoro really got you on your nerves, you had spent almost the an entire day looking for a gift for him on the last island, and you had used quite a lot of berrie on this little thing (even if you would never admit actually spending that amount for him).

Walking around the deck it wasn´t actually complicated at all to find the moss head swordsman practicing his art with... dumbells? big dumbells at that. It kind of felt like if he was rubbing on your face how strong he was, or showing off, shirtless on the falling snow.

Of course you knew he was only training without any other purpose than to get stronger, but it was fun to imagine that he wanted to show off to him, it made your cheeks blush.

"Oi Zoro! How much longer are you going to be there? It´s freezing out here" Even if he clearly didn´t notice the cold it had been the first thing to come to your mind and at a lack of better things to say you had said it out loud.

"If it´s so cold out here maybe you should go back inside" he responded without even looking your way. Did he think you were so weak you couldn´t even handle a litlle cold?

"I meant for you, you know? Wouldn´t want for the night to come and you getting lost in the snow trying to get to the kitchen"

That seemed to do the trick, for Zoro put the dumbells down and turned around to stare at you as if you were crazy. Eyes wide and confusion, along with annoyement, written all over his face.

You turned around and started to walk towards the kitchen with him following behind you asking what you even meant with that. Once you had finally gotten inside the kitchen you took one of the hot mugs that Sanji had prepared, and sat down, soon enough an angry green haired man stood besides you screaming your ear off.

You took the little bag from your pocket and handed it to him, which managed to shut him up pretty quickly. He looked at you, back to the bag and back to you, finally he took a seat besides you and opened it.

On Zoro´s hand fell three golden earrings, each one shaped like one of his swords.

"I know you only use the ones you already got on, but I thought that if you were going to represent your three sword style might as well use something close to the actual swords and..." Your rambling got cut off by two words from your partner.

"Thank you" but it wasn´t the words that made you shut up, it was his smile, small and genuine, not the mocking one he gave to sanji or the one he wore to the battlefield, a smile dedicated only for you.

"You´re welcome".

Sanji

One of your favourite parts of Christmas was definitely the food, and one of Sanjis favourite parts of Christmas was having you on the kitchen with him taste testing almost everything he prepared.

This year in specific Sanji had made a list of the things you liked the most ,and he spent all the day making them. But the one you seemed the most excited for seemed to be the sugar cookies he had baked.

The cookies in cuestion had laid on the counter for a little while now, cooling off while he prepared the glaze. They were all different shapes, there were trees, reindeers and even bells. And besides Sanji, with the glaze he had done earlier were you, glazing cookies with colors and smiling like a little child.

Some of the lines came out a little wonky but for the most part you were doing a great job, and Sanji didn't miss any opportunities to tell you so, it seemed not even five minutes went by without you hearing "Those look beautiful love" or "You have real talent for this" and even " You could help me out with the pastries more often, we would make an entire batch only for you and I" which honestly just sounded like him finding an excuse for the both of you to spend more time together.

But regardless of the blonde cook's comments you were a hundred percent focused on your task, so focused actually, that when a stray hand landed on your waist you jumped out of your skin. It all happened really quickly too, Sanji had been trying to slightly move you to the side one second, and then the next one he found his face and apron covered in light blue glaze.

Your face showed how sorry you were, but in between your wide open eyes and hand covering your mouth a laugh was trying to slip by. You tried to apologize but every time you tried to say sorry it sounded broken with laughter.

"Well, I thought you were decorating the cookies, not me" he said while smiling.

Finally taking your hand off your face you pointed out "I think you have.. a l-little.. pffft.. a little blue.. on your cheek" was the first thing you managed to choke out without your laughs distorting it.

Sanji swiped his cheek with his thumb, and stood there for a few seconds just staring at it, then he finally raised his gaze... towards the kitchen door?

You turned around to see what he was seeing but there was nothing. Before you could turn back around you felt a something cold on your face.

"I think you, have a little blue on your cheek"

You were sure your expression was as if Sanji had grown a second head, but for some reason you could not understand how him would do that.

You stood staring at him while you felt around the counter, but once you found a bowl, oh it was game on.

Sanji had barely blinked when he felt you fingers on his face, spreading green glaze as though he was a cookie. In response he dipped his fingers on the bowl with red color and painted your forehead with it.

Soon enough both of you were covered in the sugary mix like it was face paint and running around the kitchen trying to smudge the other one a little more. Your laughs, you were sure, could be heard all around the ship just from how loud they were, and Sanji's hair had long lost his blonde color, now tinted like a Christmas rainbow of sorts; he had made a joke about you being chopper at some point so you knew that there was most likely blue on your nose.

For a moment, only one, you stopped to catch your breath, but it was enough for him to grab you from behind and twirl you around, his arms around yours. Your laughter died down eventually, but you both remained there, hugging each other in a comfortable silence.

Looking down at his hands holding you, you grabbed one of them and brought it up to your face. You swiped some of the glaze of the back of his hand and onto your mouth.

From the surprise Sanji released you, and while he looked flabbergasted you continued to eat the glaze off of your own hands.

You started heading towards the door but turned around one last time.

"We probably shouldn't let all of this go to waste" you winked at him as you walked out the kitchen.

You almost missed the way his nose started bleeding slightly.

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Tags: @n-i-o

[itsagoodluckkiss]

Lost Time

Pairings: Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

WC: 2K

Warnings: Mutual pining, idiots in love, just pure fluff, no use of Y/N

A/N: Finally coming out from my hole to work on the requests I have neglected for so long. It was a rough couple of months, I'm juggling work, school and the problems that come with existence, so please be kind. English is not my first language, so sorry if this is all over the place at times. This is a request from my lovely @macbethsymphony, I love you so much, beautiful. I combined the two ideas and I really hope you'll at least enjoy it. Also forgive me for not making it suggestive, fluff suited it better I think. 💕

"Hiya 💕 Can I request something? I’m really craving some Zoro fluff 👉👈 I was thinking of something along the lines of kind of an accidental confession? Like the reader accidentally says they find him handsome but quickly and casually brushes it off (out of embarrassment but they’ve got a good poker face) but it sticks in his mind for days. Or maybe something about insomniac alone time in the crows nest? Idk I’ll let you chose what you prefer (if you decide to go for it that is because absolutely no pressure!!!) I’ll also let you decide if you wanna make it suggestive :3 whatever feels best for the story! Anyways love you ✨"

If anyone had said to you two years ago that you’d find your forever family on a pirate ship, you would have laughed at their face. Sometimes, when you lay in your bed at night, you still can’t comprehend the fact that you’re surrounded with such unique and amazing people. Despite the hardships and pain you had endured, you would never exchange the loving bond you had with your friends, each one holding a special place in your heart. But one of those bonds was slightly different.

It was slightly unbelievable how you had hit it off instantly with the swordsman of the crew, ever since they picked you up from your small island town back in the East Blue. Zoro’s your partner in crime, the person closest to you, the one you’d always trust with your hopes and fears. Even in moments of weakness, he was the person who managed to make you get it together. And somehow in return, you had managed to crack through his hard shell, gaining his trust and respect. Υour cheeky and bubbly personality appealing to his nonchalant character, making him smile whenever you were around, whenever you’d spend time together.

In the battlefield, you two were a force to be reckoned with. You always had his back, literally, watching out for enemies’ sneak attacks, him always protecting you when you were down, cutting down on anyone who dared to touch you. And that’s why Zoro never went easy on you during training, always wanting you to give you a challenge so you’d be in your best shape when in need. You appreciated that he never judged you based on gender, but sometimes, you wish he would relax, both for your sake and his.

It was the following days of a particularly rough battle; your bodies were still recovering from the wounds you sustained. You were in the crow’s nest, trying to keep up with his quick moves, the muscles of your legs straining as you deflected his attacks. Honestly, you couldn’t understand how this man could move with those dreaded wounds on him, but here he was, almost kicking you off your feet.

“Don’t lose your focus.”

Your eyes met his as you panted, trying to find your breath, fists raised in the air, sweat running down your forehead. You glanced down his body, your eyes widening when you saw the red streak on the bandages that covered his waist. You relaxed your stance immediately, going towards him to make him sit down the bench.

“Stupid bastard, you reopened your wound!”

“It’s nothing, don’t hover over me, we shouldn’t stop.”

“Shut up and sit still, let me see.”

You unwrapped the bandages around him, flinching when the slash on his ribs was visible to you. You grabbed the first aid kit from across the room. Chopper had insisted there would be one in every room because according to him, he may be a reindeer, but he may not always be able to treat all of you animals simultaneously. You sat beside Zoro on the bench. Disinfecting the wound got you a slight, almost silent hiss from him.

“You’re lucky the stiches haven’t reopened.”

“See? It’s nothing, no need to fuss.”

“You know, I only joined you today because I wanted to stop you eventually. You shouldn’t strain your body like that, Zoro. You should give it time to heal.”

You were careful with your moves, applying the ointment your doctor had made, cleaning the skin around his wound and then got the sweat off his abs before you wrapped fresh bandages around him. You were the only person besides Chopper that Zoro allowed to tend to his wounds. You had to admit that it made you feel special. It also gave you a chance to touch that body that felt like it was sculpted by the gods. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you never starred at him when he wouldn’t look, or how your heart thumped in your chest whenever he was too close. You had come to peace with your feelings of love for the swordsman, and you had come to peace with the fact that you’d never say a word about them. They wouldn’t be reciprocated anyways, so why would you ruin your friendship over them?

Right now, you had him in your arms, and it was enough. Rubbing the tension off his shoulders, his back laying against your chest, sighing in relief. His guard was down when you two were alone, allowing himself some sort of vulnerability, trusting in you to keep that side of him to yourself. His chiseled back, bare and clean from scars, laid in your display. His eyes were closed and you could see with the corner of your eye his facial features slowly relaxing. Your mind was racing, how you wanted to smother that beautiful face of his with kisses. You were smiling to yourself, not realizing you were thinking out loud.

“You’re so handsome…”

Your eyes widened for a second, breath caught in your throat, before you composed yourself as his eyes snap open to look at you, his gaze as stoic as always, not able to read what was going on in his mind.

“What?”

“I mean, you’re too handsome to die from not taking care of yourself. Do better, Roronoa.”

Your mind was reeling, almost short circuiting, but you kept your cool, appearing unbothered by what you just said, although you let go of him almost immediately after. You gathered your things, ready to go die in your room from embarrassment. He rises to his feet, stretching his limbs before grabbing a tower to wipe off the remaining sweat off his forehead.

“I’m gonna go lay down. You should rest too. Promise me you won’t train more today, yes?”

A sigh of annoyance left his mouth. “Okay, I promise you. Happy?”

“Yes. I’ll see you later.”

~

He had to admit, he didn’t expect your compliment. Of course, you had complimented each other’s skills and fighting in the past, but you had never made a comment about his appearance. Zoro pondered over it the next couple of days. He noticed how you had scattered almost immediately after, and even if you didn’t let your emotions take the better of you, he could sense your nervousness after that comment. He was taken aback but didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by mentioning the topic. It also gave him a sense of satisfaction. He had to admit he was happy you thought about him like that. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but the weird feeling that had taken its place in his heart from the first time you joined this crew was growing stronger each passing day.

Zoro had tried to deny his emotions for a long time. But two years apart made him realize there was no point in that. The times he would catch himself thinking about you, missing you in a different way than the rest of the crew. The way his heart clenched when he saw you again. How different, even more beautiful, you were but also how it was like no time had passed when you wrapped your hands around him in glee that you were with him again. It made him see there was no denying the devotion he had for you. Yet, he didn’t want to smother you over it, making you feel awkward for not reciprocating his feelings.

But your compliment made him doubt his decision. He recounted the times he had caught you staring at him, only to turn your head away in embarrassment. Or how you always leaned on him when you were tipsy, giggling against his shoulder. And how he always held you close in those moments. What if you actually felt the same? What if you actually saw him the way he saw you, and you were afraid of the same thing he was. Rejection. Zoro was never the man that cared about people accepting him or not. But it felt different with you. A stupid need wanted you to accept him in a certain way. The way two lovers got together in those novels Robin was reading about in her spare time. Love is a strong word, but he couldn’t find a better one for his feelings.

All these thoughts were swirling in his head as he nursed his bottle of sake while keeping watch in the crow’s nest until he heard the hatch opening. And as if some divine power was watching over him, you came into the room, closing the hatch behind you.

“Knew I’d find you here.”

“I’m keeping watch, so I don’t know where else I could be.”

You both chuckled as you made your way to stand next to him, leaning on the railing.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Something like that, yeah. I’ve been tossing and turning for the past hour.”

Zoro said nothing, instead offering you his bottle. You gingerly took it from his hand, your fingers brushing just for a second. You took a swig, looking out on the open sea. There was a full moon illuminating down on you, and no sound around you except the gentle waves against the hull of your ship. You stayed like that for a while, eyes on the vast ocean around you.

“You ever think about lost time?”

You turn your gaze in surprise when you heard him speak.

“What do you mean?”

“… Things you should have done but were late to do and you wasted time.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Zoro finally looked at you. You couldn’t read the gaze he had in his eyes but the hold he had on you would never allow you to look away.

“That two years have passed without seeing you and I still haven’t said that I thought of you every single day.”

“You… thought of me?”

You felt your heart clenching. Your eyes widen as you stared at him. Did he actually just say that? Zoro was never a man that played with his words, always blunt and straightforward. He scoffed lightheartedly, a small smile on his face at your shocked expression.

“Of course I did. And during that time, I also realized I wasted time wondering what you’d think of me while I could have spent it holding you in my arms.” He took a small pause. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

He turned his gaze to look at the sea once again while your now teary eyes were glued at him, hanging on the words that fell from his mouth, a wide smile forming on your face. It felt like a dream. A dream you regularly had in those two agonizing years you yearned to see him again.

“What are you sorry for?”

His eyes were on you again, reading your expression.

“I-”

“Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to just tell you? How much struggle it took to keep it all down?”

Your bodies were now thoughtlessly closing the distance between you, almost touching. Your hands grasped his shoulders softly while his traveled to your waist to hold you steadily in his chest.

“You should have.”

He leaned slightly, your foreheads touching. His gaze buried into yours, communicating all the feelings that both of you shared. Longing, reluctance, uncertainty and most of all, love.

“I don’t want to waste more time. May I kiss you?”

You gave him a toothy grin, a tear sliding down your face.

“Yes. Please.”

His hand cupped your cheek to wipe the tear away as his lips found yours in a sweet kiss that held no hesitation, all the unspoken words both of you hadn’t spoken in so long pouring into it. His other hand held your waist firmly against him while your lips moved in sync with a passion that couldn’t be described, as the moon shone down on you, the only witness to your link. After a moment you broke the kiss to catch your breath, smiling, his breath falling on your lips as he chuckled breathlessly, foreheads still against each other.

“You’re stuck with me now.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way, Zoro.”

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 18 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, mentions of violence, descriptions of smoking, ANGST, some fluff, SLOW BURN

words: 13.9k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 18 ► if everything i said was true, then why am i paralysed?

You and Jungkook spent the rest of Rated Riot’s day off in your hotel room in Manchester.

People kept coming to check on you, including Minjun, who made a hesitant appearance but brightened up immediately when he heard you and Jungkook laughing just before he opened the door to your room. And after the last visitors—the rest of the Rated Riot members, who had accidentally knocked over a lamp and broken the wardrobe door within fifteen minutes of entering the room—had left, you and Jungkook found yourselves alone in the room again.

You both reached a compromise to lie on the bed and talk since you refused to sleep, and he refused to let you out of the room.

It wasn’t exactly a pillow fort that you’d built for yourselves—really, it was more of a loose, cosy blanket hut—but it still brought back memories of the nights you’d spent in your dorm room years ago. And after last night’s conversation, you couldn’t help but think about all the nights that hadn’t happened because Jungkook was trying to do something more for you.

Really, this was all you needed—back then and, as it turned out, right now: some pillows for comfort and Jungkook laughing next to you.

He rolled onto his side, and you mirrored his position until you were facing each other. Suddenly, you both had to strain very hard not to laugh again. But the story that had amused you at first—about Jungkook and Hoseok’s failed attempt to bake a cake for Yoongi’s birthday the previous year, which was another thing Jungkook hadn’t mentioned to you after nearly setting his apartment on fire—had almost faded from your mind.

You were just happy to be in the moment.

You felt dizzy from the vitamins you’d received over the past few days. And from the shower you’d taken half an hour ago. And from the fact that lying here on the hotel bed with Jungkook was almost overwhelming. It felt a little like you had lost an important piece of yourself—just dropped it somewhere absentmindedly—and now you’d accidentally found it, fully intact.

But at the dark corners of your mind, there were worries. You couldn’t help it—not even the star-shaped pattern reflected in his dark eyes could distract you from the inevitability of the Future. And of Consequences.

What did this mean?

All the thoughtful gestures, the well-meaning mishaps, the inevitable insecurities, and the constant presence of his friends that the two of you had talked about last night. And the bet, too.

What would happen next?

You were about to pull away and succumb fully to your anxiety, but Jungkook reached out a hand—his tattoos blurred in the shadows of your dark room—to sweep a strand of hair from your cheek, and you discovered that, despite everything, your body had not relinquished its instinctive response to his touch.

You felt your breath slowing down, your muscles relaxing. His fingertips gently brushed over the skin of your cheek, and the goosebumps on the back of your neck ran wild. You closed your eyes and exhaled.

Five minutes, he’d once asked you. Five minutes that won’t mean anything once they’re over.

“I feel,” he spoke up softly, and you opened your eyes again, “a bit like we’re back in Amsterdam.”

Hesitantly—against his wishes, really—he withdrew his hand and placed it on the pillow under his cheek.

“We’re, uh—we’re very far from Amsterdam,” you replied.

You didn’t mean the physical distance, of course. You meant the moments from leaving the bed in Amsterdam to being in this bed here, in Manchester—with your arm still slightly stinging from the catheter.

“I know,” Jungkook said. You rolled onto your back, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, even though your mind kept shouting at you to look at him. “But I’m scared to leave this room because I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

You pressed your lips together and ran your tongue over them. You wondered if his fear matched yours, or if they were two opposite sides of the same coin.

You turned your head. “What do you mean?”

He observed you for a moment. The lines of laughter hadn’t faded from your face yet, and you looked breathtaking.

He realised that it was much harder to admit things in the daylight than at night. Arctic Monkeys had made a good point.

“I mean, I don’t know if you’ll be okay,” he said. “If—”

“I will be,” you cut in.

He swallowed. “I don’t know if you’ll talk to me again.”

The look in his eyes was hopeful but uncertain, and you turned back to the ceiling. There was something comforting about the smooth tiles above. They didn’t make you feel like your chest was exploding into millions of little pieces, each with his name inked on it.

“I’m talking to you now,” you managed to say, even after your voice broke on the third syllable.

“Right,” he said. “But I mean about things that really matter.”

“Well,” you inhaled, “we talked about a lot of them last night.”

“Yeah, but that was—you know.” This time, it was Jungkook who rolled onto his back and clasped his hands on his stomach. “Things that happened years ago.”

“Yeah, but they’re new to me,” you pointed out.

“Sure,” he agreed. His foot twitched as he tried to find his words. “But I’m—we haven’t decided if that changes things. Not that I’m—I mean—”

“It changes things.”

He turned his head to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I don’t know what to say because my mind is just, sort of… well, I don’t know. What I do know is that I like being here with you, and I don’t want to think about leaving.”

Jungkook thought that feeling this way was impossible.

After the existential fever that he’d gone through—and all the cigarettes he’d smoked to stay on his feet—his chest and lungs and, really, about three-quarters of his entire body should have turned to ash by now.

But lying next to you and hearing you say that you liked being here with him made him feel more alive than ever before.

“I don’t want to think about it, either,” he admitted in a hushed tone, as if he was revealing a secret. “B-but—we—we’ll have to leave, though.”

A small smile formed on your face. “You sound like me.”

He smiled, too. “I try.”

You snorted and looked away. There was a time restriction on how long you could look at him and keep your brain functioning.

“I know we’ll have to,” you said. “But here’s a, um—an unconventional suggestion. How about we don’t do this right now? How about we don’t talk about the bet, or about us, or about what anything means, and just—let’s just not talk.”

He could do that. He could just not talk.

But it would kill him—having five, fifteen, even thirty minutes of ignorant peace with you. That was simply not enough time.

He didn’t just want an hour with you. He wanted a lifetime.

“Okay. So,” he started, scratching a spot between his knuckles, “what do you want to do?”

“I want,” you replied, swallowing your inner disquiet, “not to have to make any decisions.”

“About us?” he asked. The slight hint of panic in his voice made you tap your restless fingers against the blanket beneath you.

“About anything.”

The room lit up as a car pulled into one of the side alleys behind your hotel room window.

“Reconnaissance?” he said—not really a statement, but not quite a question, either. The name of the band that he’d loved so much suddenly sounded like the start of a curse. “Have you—have you decided if you’re leaving?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, almost nauseous from the sudden surge of stress. It seemed like every aspect of your life required your immediate attention and demanded an answer to a crucial, life-altering question. It felt like everything was slipping away—and you were trying to catch it all at once, and couldn’t catch anything at all.

You really didn’t want to leave this room.

“I haven’t decided how I’m getting out of this bed,” you finally said, your groan muffled by something thick lodged in your throat. You shifted your body to face him but kept your eyes closed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jungkook. I’m so—I’m just—”

“Okay,” he cut in hastily. He didn’t like the wrinkle between your eyebrows—he preferred the wrinkles by your lips. “Well, look—we don’t—we don’t have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable. If you want to go back to work, we can do that. If you want to avoid me, then I’ll—well, I—”

“I don’t want to avoid you,” you said.

“Okay,” he said again because that was the only word he trusted himself with. Hesitantly, he added, “so… truce, then?”

You opened your eyes. “Truce?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s stop avoiding each other. And let’s just focus on our work.”

It sounded a little like another one of his five-minute promises—driven by the urgency to make it so, to drown out the doubts that this was weak. That it wouldn’t work. That you could never go back and expect everything to be okay without making any real decisions about anything: not your relationship, not your future, not even what you’d do tomorrow.

“Can we actually do that?” you asked anyway—and because you did, Jungkook nodded enthusiastically.

“Of course,” he assured. “We can do anything.”

You needed to hear that—even if it wasn’t true. Even if it was temporary.

Knowing that someone was willing to take the responsibility for a decision away from you was good enough for the moment.

“Okay,” you said. “Truce, then.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk,” you promised quietly, closing your eyes again. “Just not right now.”

You could almost feel the unease settling into a slumber deep inside your mind. It would wake eventually.

All the words, all the feelings—all of it had been left unsaid. Some of it unthought. But it was still there, hovering on the hazy edge of your subconscious, and fighting—the more you resisted—to break out.

But then Jungkook asked if he had ever told you about Taehyung walking in his sleep when he had the flu on tour last year, and all the anxious spaces inside of your chest eased. You smiled as you listened, and you had all you needed—and nothing less—right here again.

The next morning, you left your hotel room feeling a little lighter.

You haven’t fully processed—or adjusted to—the things that Jungkook had revealed to you, but you’d found somewhat of a common ground with him. You could tolerate each other’s presence with surprising ease despite the weight of all the decisions looming over you.

You returned to your duties as soon as you left the hotel. You saw a new text message from Nick on your phone, but you had no time—or wish—to deal with Reconnaissance right now.

At such short notice, the best solution you could find for Jungkook’s black eye was an eye patch. Fortunately, you didn’t have to go far from the venue to find one before Rated Riot started their soundcheck.

Even more fortunate was the fact that the band and the staff all found the eye patch so amusing that they kept making pirate jokes—much to Jungkook’s growing annoyance—and it distracted everyone from your fainting spell and the two days you had spent in bed.

The eye patch was black to match his outfit, or at least that was what you told him. In reality, the only place near the venue where you could buy eye patches was a costume shop.

When you returned to the venue with a dark costume bag, Namjoon happened to be passing by in the corridor. He had no choice but to become an accessory to your petty crime as you grabbed the eye patch and hid the rest of the costume in Namjoon’s suitcase.

There was no reason for Jungkook to know about the rest of the costume, and Namjoon—once he stopped laughing—agreed.

You figured that as long as the patch covered the bandages and discolouration around Jungkook’s eye, it would be okay.

Jungkook, of course, had a different opinion.

“I look stupid,” he insisted when you and Jimin were double-checking the sound equipment. The two of you wanted to make sure no damage had been done to it when the venue staff cleaned up after the flood.

“Should’ve thought about that before you got a black eye,” you mumbled half-heartedly, too preoccupied with the list of electronics that Jimin had handed you. You didn’t recognise most of the devices on the list and couldn’t even read what some were called in the awful lighting backstage.

Meanwhile, Rated Riot’s temporary opening act finished her set, allowing Seokjin to go out and prepare the stage for the band. Expectant cheers from the audience lifted your spirits as you followed Jimin’s list.

Maggie had been the one who secured this up-and-coming artist to open for the band tonight. Her name was Ivy, and she had tattoos of ivy vines all over her arms, which may have been the initial reason Maggie chose her. But as soon as Ivy started to sing, there was no question about her talent.

“Hey, Jungkook!” Seokjin called out ten minutes later, and you glanced up just as he walked down the steps from the stage. “Serious question: what has six eyes, six legs, and six arms?”

You guessed the punchline before Jungkook could even open his mouth. “How is that—”

“Six pirates!” Seokjin answered, and his endearing—and so contagious that it was almost ungodly—windshield wiper laugh made you chuckle as well. Jimin hiccupped and turned away from everyone, presumably to conceal his own laughter.

“That’s it, I’m taking this off,” Jungkook declared in frustration, reaching for the string that secured the patch.

You stopped laughing and jumped up, shouting a panicked “no!” and quickly grabbing his wrist.

He looked up, momentarily stunned by your touch.

“If you go on that stage with your bandages and a black eye underneath, the label will send us straight home,” you said. “I don’t care how much you sweat or how many pirate jokes these guys make. You’re wearing this.”

He pouted, exaggerating his reaction, but there was genuine discomfort in his healthy eye, even if it was drowning in black eye shadow. He knew it would be unprofessional to get on stage without covering up his wounds, but he worried the eye patch was a worse alternative.

“I look fucking stupid,” he said, and to be fair, he did look silly—to say the least. But you had seen him at the soundcheck. When he performed, his make-up and accessories faded against his voice and stage presence.

“You don’t,” you reassured him again. “You’re a rockstar. You can pull off an eye patch.”

He continued to watch you, his pout becoming more dramatic when he scrunched his nose. You felt a smile spreading on your lips. He had looked at you like this on purpose many times—usually to convince you that he couldn’t possibly survive without seeing you right this instant, even though you had to study for exams—and your chest immediately warmed.

You managed to nod again to reaffirm what you’d just said. Finally, he sighed and let go of the patch. You released his wrist and took a step back.

Just then, Jimin emerged from behind one of the amplifiers to your left. You couldn’t see the wide grin on his face, but Jungkook could, and he reached for Hoseok’s drumsticks right away.

“Ready when you are, Captain,” Jimin said and then quickly ducked as Jungkook tossed the drumstick at his head.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled, ignoring Jimin’s laughter and allowing Yoongi to guide him to the stairs that led to the stage.

“Do you really think he can pull this off?” Jimin asked you as the band members walked towards the dimly lit stage entrance.

All four of them stumbled over their feet at least once, but you didn’t react—you’ve been their manager long enough to know that tripping before a concert was almost a good luck charm.

“Because I assume,” Jimin went on, “that he was trying to divert attention from his eye patch by applying all the black eyeshadow he has to his other eye.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, suspecting the same. “Up close, he sort of looks like Captain Hook and Edward Scissorhands had a baby.”

“Oh my God, he does,” Jimin whispered in awe and grabbed onto your shoulder to steady himself as his laughter erupted in violent waves. “Someone needs to get him a wig, so—so he could wear Captain Hook’s hat, too—with the—with the feather and everything—”

The image finally made you lose your composure, too. Seokjin looked up when he heard your laughter and approached to learn what was so funny. After Jimin panted through an answer, the stage manager joined in.

The three of you laughed so hard that you transcended noise and just wheezed voicelessly like malfunctioning dog whistles.

Suddenly, Jungkook turned to look at you from the side of the stage as he inserted his earpiece. You had half a second to pull yourself together before he lost confidence and threw the eye patch away.

Quickly, you raised your hand and formed an ‘O’ with your fingers to signal that everything was okay—even though you had tears in your eyes and the laughter of the two boys did not help you keep a straight face.

Jungkook had doubt in his eyes—well, eye—but you bit your lip and gave him another reassuring nod. Despite your amusement, you could tell he looked ready. And from this far, his eyeshadow didn’t look all that threatening.

As you watched the intense concentration on his face, it was hard to imagine there being anything in this world that could make him look bad. Neither the eye patch, nor the heavy make-up truly managed it.

Jungkook took a step forward just as Taehyung played the first note on his bass. The audience greeted the band with explosive cries that reached you at the back of the stage.

“I have to go,” you told Seokjin and Jimin while they continued to gasp for breath—because they started laughing every time they looked at each other. “Someone has to make sure the eye patch doesn’t fall off during the show.”

“We should find him a bottle of rum,” Seokjin said, and Jimin threw his whole body backwards as he laughed.

“A parrot,” he managed between wheezes, prompting Seokjin to clap in vigorous approval as his face contorted with near-painful laughter.

You were still snickering when you walked away to watch the show from the venue.

Fortunately, Jungkook’s eye patch stayed in place throughout Rated Riot’s performance. What surprised you, however, was the effect it had on the audience.

Unlike everyone backstage, the fans didn’t find the eye patch funny or ridiculous. They loved it.

Granted, you probably should have seen this coming. When Jungkook took off his shirt in the second half of the show, which had become almost a tradition at this point, the eye patch—along with his tattoos, dishevelled hair and messy make-up—did, sort of, make your breath catch in your throat as well.

But as luck would have it, you couldn’t concentrate too much on what was happening on stage because your friends—bless them—kept giving you worried looks. It was very sweet of them, of course, but you started to feel sicker than you really were.

As the show approached its conclusion, you realised that you were feeling slightly lightheaded, after all. It usually got very hot very quickly this close to the stage, so you weren’t too worried. Still, you decided to miss the last few songs just in case.

You returned backstage just as Rated Riot started their encore. You hoped to have a few minutes alone with your thoughts and a bottle of water. However, as soon as you walked through the corridor towards the waiting area, you nearly collided with Minjun.

You pulled back, startled. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Headache,” he said, holding up his beer bottle as if that was his solution to the problem. “What about you? Do you—do you maybe happen to have a minute?”

You were surprised that Minjun would need any of your minutes at all.

“Uh—” you glanced back, even though the noise of the concert was loud enough to hear without turning around. “Sure. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” he explained, putting his bottle on the table near the dressing room. He shoved his hands in his pockets and paused before turning around. “Uh, first of all, um—are you okay?”

Your polite smile seemed to hide a deep weariness. The corner of your lip fluttered treacherously.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine.”

“I heard that’s your default answer,” he remarked sheepishly.

You hadn’t expected that. Unlike Sid, who only asked questions to fill the silence, Minjun observed you in a way that Jungkook often did—with a quiet determination to get you to admit the truth.

Your expression softened.

“I mean it,” you said. “I really do feel better. Just a little dizzy, but I guess that’s because it’s really hot out there.”

“Yeah—oh, can I get you water? A beer?” he asked. You sensed guilty undertones in his offer; as though he wanted to do something nice for you to redeem himself.

“Water would be great,” you said. “But I can—”

“One second!”

He hurried into the dressing room and returned half a minute later with a bottle of water from the mini-fridge, its plastic cloudy from condensation.

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you want to sit?”

You gestured towards the couch, pushed against the far wall of the corridor. He nodded in response, and the two of you sat down in complete—and a little awkward—silence.

“So, was that… what you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked, unsure what to make of his discomfort as he fiddled his fingers next to you. He looked like he was about to shed his skin.

“No, um—it’s not,” he said. “Uh… I wanted to talk about Jungkook. I meant to do it earlier, but, well, you weren’t feeling well, and I didn’t want to—”

“That’s okay,” you said, hoping to hide your impatience with another polite smile. “Talk to me.”

You took a sip of your water, which was far too cold to feel refreshing, while Minjun collected his thoughts.

“Well—h-he fucked up,” he said profoundly.

You nodded, not quite present in the conversation because you were trying not to open your mouth and hah-hah-hah from the cold water like you would if your throat was burning.

“Sure,” you said.

Minjun looked a little thrown off by the word. Given the extent of Jungkook’s suffering after he told you about the bet and couldn’t convince you to hear him out, Minjun assumed you would refuse to even hear a word about it.

“Sid had a lot to do with that,” he added, crossing his arms and stretching his denim jacket.

You nodded again, still as nonchalant as before. Minjun was a little perplexed.

But really, you’ve already talked to Jungkook—and Luna—about this. Not extensively, but it was enough for you to accept that it had happened, and that you didn’t possess a watch that could magically turn back time and make different choices.

Sid had proposed the bet, and Jungkook had played along with it. It was done. And now there was no reason to scream or storm out.

“He always does,” you said.

“That’s—well, that’s very true.” Minjun looked at the ground. He knew what he wanted to talk to you about, but your reasonable responses had left his thoughts in disarray, and now his mind was throwing random, incomprehensible bits of his rehearsed speech at him. “Jungkook, um—he thinks Sid likes you.”

You were already nodding once more when you froze, frowning instead. “Excu—what?”

“Yeah,” Minjun said, feeling a little more collected now that you finally reacted as he’d expected. “Apparently, he believes that Sid pressured him into making this bet because of that. To sabotage your relationship, I guess.”

You couldn’t help a scoff. “That’s dramatic.”

Minjun arched his brow. “Have you met Sid?”

“I didn’t say it didn’t fit his personality,” you said. “I just said it’s dramatic. And unnecessary”

“Well,” he shrugged one of his shoulders, “those are his middle names.”

“I don’t think it’s true, though,” your answer was quick. As if you hadn’t needed any time at all to think if this was possible. The very idea that Sid liked anyone other than himself was laughable.

“You don’t?” Minjun asked. He didn’t seem surprised by your disagreement. Merely curious to hear your reasoning.

“No,” you said. “If he liked me, he would have done something about it. I’ve known you guys almost as long as I’ve known Jungkook. And all that Sid’s done in this time, is make my life difficult.”

Minjun lowered his head. Those were his first assumptions as well. Sid wouldn’t stay on the sidelines that long. If he wanted something, he went to great lengths to get it.

But on the other hand, if Sid couldn’t get something, he often acted as if he’d never even wanted it, and harboured a deep resentment towards the object of desire at the same time.

Minjun sighed.

“I think I agree with you,” he said.

You turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he said. “I don’t know if Sid ever really liked you, but I think the real problem is that Sid’s jealous of Jungkook and everything Jungkook has. He’s inferior to Sid, you know? That’s how Sid sees it. And yet, Jungkook is in a rock band. He has shows almost every night. He has real friends, real talent, real support. And he has a girl he loves more than anything. All Sid has is money. He probably doesn’t even understand how it’s possible for money to matter so little.”

You bobbed your head in contemplation. Money held such a massive significance in this world. The fact that Sid had it in abundance and still couldn’t find contentment only proved how pitiful he truly was.

“I thought the same thing,” you admitted. “I always assumed there must be some tension between them now that Jungkook is more than just Sid’s friend. Or, really, his sidekick.”

Minjun nodded. “Exactly, yeah.”

You exhaled and stretched your legs. You wondered what Minjun’s logic was, since he knew what Sid was like, but did not do anything to rid himself of him.

“Why are you, by the way?” you asked. “Sid’s friend, I mean.”

Minjun’s sad smile confirmed to you that there was something more here. No one would have willingly chosen to keep Sid in their lives.

“I’m doing a community service to rescue Jude from his claws,” he said in a very serious tone. “And to leave Sid alone and miserable.”

“I admire your mission,” you said with an amused smile. “But seriously. Why?”

He sighed. He preferred the silly, made-up versions of his story.

I’m an undercover FBI agent collecting information on Sid so we can lock him up for good.

I’m writing a book on insufferable psychopaths. Sid is my primary research subject.

All of these made him appear like he had some control over his choices. They made him feel less pathetic.

“It’s a family thing,” Minjun said, closing his eyes and pulling the corner of his lip into his mouth. “I don’t...”

He let the sentence trail off, and you interjected softly, “you don’t have to tell me everything.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. “It’s just… stupid. My family—well, my parents—they’ve been business partners with Sid’s mum for a long time. She bought my parents’ company, and they signed some partnership agreement that was supposed to guarantee that my parents retained full control of their business. But, uh, you know.”

“They still answer to Sid’s mum in the end,” you finished.

Minjun clicked his tongue. “Yeah. It’s… they used to send me off to play with Sid, and they would tell me to be nice to him. Because if I upset him and it gets to his mother, my parents are the ones who suffer for it.”

“That’s—that makes no sense,” you said, lacking a better description for something that sounded ridiculous and, frankly, surreal.

“I know,” he agreed. “But Sid’s mum is—he’s her only kid. And she really, really wanted to have kids. I don’t know the whole story—I never cared—but from what I’ve heard, Sid’s parents tried everything they could for a very long time to have children. They have the money for it. Still, nothing worked. And then, all of a sudden, Sid. Their miracle baby. Their little angel. Maybe if they hadn’t treated him like he was king, he would have turned out differently. But his mum doesn’t even hear the way he talks to her sometimes.”

You tsked, unimpressed. “I’m not surprised. Nothing’s sacred to him.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t care about others. And still, his mother is ready to unleash hell if anyone wrongs him,” Minjun said, reaching to brush some invisible dust from his upper arm. “The ironic thing is, though, everyone in my parents’ company was very happy when Sid was born. His mum was—well, understandably, she wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around when she was going through… all that, you know? And I say that respectfully. She threatened to bankrupt my mum after she got pregnant with me and tried to talk to Sid’s mum about parental leave.”

You’ve never met Sid’s parents, but you’ve had the misfortune of meeting Sid, and it wasn’t hard to imagine where he got his personality from.

“Ah,” you said. “So, the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh?”

Minjun snickered and shook his head.

“Hmm, it doesn’t. But Sid’s mum found out a few weeks later that she was pregnant, too. And from then on, she was a real saint,” he said. “So, my parents were hoping that I could be the leverage if something went wrong in their business. ‘Oh, but our sons have always been almost like brothers’ kind of thing. That way, they won’t lose all their money if Sid’s mum has a sudden change of heart.”

“Fuck,” you concluded.

“Yeah. They would have gotten him and me engaged, too.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t, actually.”

A small, ironic smile had crept onto Minjun’s lips.

“I’m sure they’ve thought about it,” he said, looking at the bottle of beer he’d left across the room. He’d put it there because he didn’t want to drink if you weren’t drinking, but now he was regretting his manners. “Unfortunately, Sid isn’t my type. My parents had the decency to respect that, at least.”

You chuckled, and Minjun brightened a little, too.

“To be fair,” you remarked, “I don’t think Sid is anyone’s type.”

“Good point.”

You looked at the floor tiles and considered this. You wanted to know if it had happened before—something to convince Minjun that he should obey Sid as much as possible, or his parents would face the consequences—but you didn’t think it was fair to ask him to elaborate.

The way Minjun looked right now, with all colour drained from his eyes as he tried to keep smiling, it seemed like he knew exactly what Sid’s mum could do if her son said one word to her.

So, the two of you sat in silence for a little while longer, while shouts of excitement from the concert echoed around you.

“And, uh—what about Jude, then?” you asked after a minute. “Why does he stick around?”

Minjun didn’t make jokes this time.

“I honestly think Jude just doesn’t know any better,” he said. “He’s known Sid the longest. Their mothers were friends before Jude’s parents got divorced and his mum moved abroad. He just doesn’t know a different life.”

“You mean he’s too used to Sid to see that he is bad for him,” you summarised.

“I think he sees it,” Minjun said, analysing the plaster on the walls of the waiting area. “He just doesn't care.”

“Ah.” You nodded your head. “He needs help.”

“Lots of it.”

“Mmhm.”

That about confirmed to you that Sid had always been the problem. The poisonous leech.

Jungkook saw the problem, even if it took him a while. And Minjun saw it, too. It was just absurdly unfair that there was nothing he could do about it.

And then you wondered if Jungkook could do anything about it. He’d fought Sid and banned him from Rated Riot shows. But would that accomplish anything?

This was Sid. Sometimes it seemed like all it took for him to be summoned was just the mention of his name. He had to be at least half-demon.

“Kind of sad, when you think about it, isn’t it?” Minjun spoke up then. You thought he was referring to himself before he added, “that Sid doesn’t have one real friend.”

You grimaced.

“I’m—not sure if I’d call it sad,” you said. “I don’t think he deserves to have real friends.”

“Yeah, no, that’s true,” he settled. “Still, though. He acts like a king. And all he really has is just paper.”

You considered yourself a compassionate, caring person. But you didn’t think you were capable of genuinely pitying Sid.

“Did you come here to make me feel bad for him?” you asked. “Because if that’s the case, we might be here for a while, and I’m not sure either of us has the time.”

“No,” Minjun said, chuckling awkwardly. “He’s the last person you should feel bad for. I’m just saying… he’s miserable and he likes to make others miserable, too. Especially Jungkook.”

He gave you a look, and you turned away, realising that you were circling back to his original reason for talking to you.

You took another sip of water. It had warmed a little and tasted less violent in your throat.

“Yeah, well.” You popped your lips. “Pretty much everyone who knows Sid knows that.”

“Yeah, and I… I should have found you earlier,” he said, lowering his head in a manner reminiscent of all the times you had seen him avoid your gaze when you entered the room. “Sid made sure Jungkook couldn’t tell you, but I wasn’t—I could’ve told you about the bet.”

“That would have—well, it would have saved us a lot of, uh, time,” you said and gave him a kind smile that was supposed to let him know you weren’t really angry. But Minjun only felt worse after he saw it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He looked up as he spoke and the regret in his eyes added a deeper significance to his apology. “I was… afraid, I guess. I don’t know how else to—well, it’s not a good excuse, but—”

“I get it,” you interrupted. “And thanks. It’s not really your mess to clean, though.”

He didn’t think it was. Still, he felt like he had let Jungkook down.

After seeing you two laughing together in your hotel room, Minjun hoped that Jungkook had explained his decisions—no matter how backwards they were—to you. So, now it was time for Minjun to say something, too.

“Jungkook, uh… he made the stupid decision to play Sid’s game,” he said. “And now you’re both suffering because of it. I don’t think you should give Sid that much power.”

You contemplated this for a minute and gave a slight shake of your head.

“See,” you said, “I think Jungkook is the one suffering because of Sid’s game. And I’m in this because of the consequences of a stupid decision that Jungkook had made.”

“True enough. He shouldn’t have cared about Sid that much,” Minjun agreed. The pounding in his head doubled as he tried to think of how to phrase himself next. “It’s not really my place to say, but um—I’ve been friends with Jungkook for most of my life, so I think I know him pretty well. He’s—he has always been in love with you. He’s just… blinded by a lot of irrelevant things. And I think he realises that now. He was really shaken up after the bet, and that’s when these things happen, isn’t it? Something massive strikes and it makes you rearrange your priorities. Well, his priority is you.”

Minjun felt your body tense next to him on the couch. He had never said anything like this to you—and Jungkook had never soberly told Minjun that he loved you, either—but it was about as obvious as your warm eyes and clenched jaw.

You knew it, too. You just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“He made a really stupid decision,” Minjun reiterated. “And I think he knew that right away. Except you know Sid. He couldn’t let him off the hook, especially when he saw how miserable this made Jungkook.”

You hummed, incapable, suddenly, of a verbal response.

The shouts around you grew louder. Rated Riot were finishing the final song of the encore—and it started to sound like another band member had removed a piece of clothing.

“The bet and his feelings for you,” Minjun continued, “those are two separate things. So, I just—well, which one of them do you feel upset about?”

The anxiety in your lungs didn’t have much room to spare for oxygen, but the question still knocked all breath out of you.

“I—”

“No, actually,” Minjun said, closing his eyes and drawing back, “you know what? This isn’t something I should be asking you. I’m sorry. It’s something you should talk to him about. When you’re ready, of course.”

You still looked near panicked when Minjun glanced at you, and you hurried to respond in a way that would end the conversation, because the staff and the band would soon join you backstage. You needed another bottle of water before you could return to your job.

“Yeah. Uh, I’ll—I’ll see about that,” you ended up saying, which wasn’t much, but Minjun wasn’t going to push. “I’m, uh… they’re about to get off stage—I—I have to go check on them.” You stood up. You still hadn’t made eye contact with him. “We have an eye patch situation as you’re well aware, I’m sure.”

Minjun smiled courteously.

“I know,” he said. “But make sure to think about what I said, okay?”

“I will,” you said, trying to nod, but your head felt too full. You were worried that if you moved it, all of your uncertainty and fear would spill out.

You had hoped to delay talking to Jungkook about everything a little longer, but something in your universe was pushing against that.

“Thank you,” you said almost as an afterthought.

“Hm?” Minjun raised his eyebrows. “For what?”

“For staying with him.”

Minjun’s eyes warmed as his smile spread.

“He’s my oldest friend,” he said. “Of course, I’m staying.”

The usual lines of people waiting to meet Rated Riot at the merch stand after the show had tripled tonight. It appeared that almost everyone who had bought a ticket stayed back for the band.

You didn’t know if the eye patch had anything to do with it, but Maggie’s Instagram post with preview pictures from tonight’s show, half-jokingly titled “Rockstar Pirate”, quickly became the most-liked post on her account.

However, before Jungkook could go out and meet the fans, his bandages had to be changed. The intense jumping and sweating had not been good for his wounds, and the ten-minute shower after the performance had not been enough to prevent some fresh bleeding.

But that was to be expected. Some of his cuts were narrow but appeared deep.

What was unexpected, however, was his insistence that he was fine. He would just put the eye patch on and head right back out.

“Do you have any idea,” you scolded as you forcefully sat him down on the counter next to the sink in the bathroom of the venue, “what sort of problems I’d have if these got infected?”

You brought the cotton swab over the scrapes above his cheek, and he gritted his teeth as the antiseptic burned his skin. “It sounds like it’d be me who would have problems.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Maybe even sepsis. But I could get sued for not doing my job.”

“Hmm. And if I die?”

“Then I’d have a funeral to plan on top of that, too.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry my death would inconvenience you so much.”

“It would,” you said, pulling back. “So, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t die, seeing as I already have a lot to do.”

He grinned, always thrilled to tease you back. However, this time, he took the opportunity when you weren’t looking at him to ask, “how are you feeling?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, equally as determined to insist that you were okay and that the last two days hadn’t happened.

“I’m fine, of course,” you said.

“Of course,” he repeated dryly.

“I really mean it,” you said as you struggled to open the glass bottle of ointment. Jungkook had informed you earlier that the nurses at the hospital ‘had used something similar’ when he went there the other day, so you felt a bit more confident about this procedure. “I got eight hours of sleep two nights in a row. That’s unheard of.”

“I’m glad,” he said.

You finally got the bottle to open. Jungkook frowned and drew back.

“Well, can you be glad without moving?” you asked, approaching him with the ointment and a few cotton pads. You’d hoped the antiseptic had soaked into his skin by now. You didn’t have time to wait.

“Is that even necessary?” he asked, pouting and pulling his head back until he hit the mirror behind him. “This stings like a bitch.”

You were nearly leaning over him with all your weight to reach his face. One of your palms pressed into his thigh as you fought to keep your balance, and Jungkook stilled, but did not shut up.

“T-the cuts are not getting infected,” he insisted. He paused and bit into his lip ring when you exhaled and he discovered that he could feel your breath against his cheek. As soon as he realised that he didn’t actually pass out for a minute there, he continued, “do I really need bandages if I wear the eye patch? I personally think I’m—”

“You’re sweating under it,” you cut him off, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you traced the cuts on his cheekbone with the pad. You continued to speak distractedly, “and it’s a rental, in any case. You can’t put that on a bare wound.”

He blinked and jerked his head to the side, nearly causing you to topple over him.

“Jungkook, come on—”

“It’s a rental?” he repeated, his face twisted in a comical expression of disbelief. “How—how do you mean?”

You sighed. You shouldn’t have let that slip.

“I’m sure they disinfect the costumes after they’re returned, so, don’t worry about that,” you said. “Now please—”

“It’s part of a costume?!” he shouted, but you grabbed the back of his neck with your free hand to keep him in place. He felt a sudden shiver ripple down his spine. “Wait, w-what—a-am I a joke to you?”

The corners of your lips quivered as you tried to resist a smirk. You dabbed the cotton pad onto the bruise around his eye and did not speak until you finished applying the ointment to every cut and scrape you could see.

“No,” you said then. “You’re not very funny.”

Locked in place by your cold hands on the back of his neck, Jungkook realised he did not have any reflexes left whatsoever. He did not have much of anything, to be honest, aside from a severe case of hot, violent wings in his stomach.

“Not very f—I’ll—oh, I’ll show you funny,” he finally managed.

He grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. Surprised—and, honestly, amused—you tried to pull back from him, but found yourself trapped in his grip as he jumped off the counter.

You pressed your lips together to stifle a laugh. He tried very hard to glare at you, but his lips were pursed in an obvious attempt not to smile back and his cheeks were tinted with the softest shade of pink.

A part of you was glad, actually, that he was restraining you right now because you weren’t sure if you would have found it in yourself to resist the urge to bring your hand over his flushed cheeks.

After a loaded minute, Jungkook finally released you and shook his head, turning his back to you in a dramatic demonstration of defiance.

“Jungkook,” you said. He could hear the playful lilt in your voice. “Come on, sit down. I’m almost done.”

“I’m wearing a pirate costume!” he protested.

“You’re not wearing a costume. It’s just an eye patch. Sit down.”

He shook his head again, but turned around, mustering as much irritation as he could. You were smiling and he was hardly capable of being angry about that.

“I look like Jack Sparrow’s long-lost, half-blind cousin,” he accused half-heartedly.

He looked almost scandalised when you laughed at this.

“You wish,” you teased, peeling off the adhesive tape from the new bandages that Namjoon was kind enough to buy earlier in the day.

“Excuse me?” Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Now you’re going to tell me I’m not good enough to be related to Jack Sparrow?”

You were glad he did not move when you approached him again and carefully applied the adhesive pad to his bruises.

“That’s Captain Jack Sparrow,” you said.

He glowered, but his image crumbled the second he saw your grin.

“You nerd,” he said, breaking off into a soft laugh. His eyes were fixed on you as you gently tapped the edges of the bandages to make sure they stayed in place.

“Hey, now,” you warned, pulling back to give him a look that was about as stern as your tentative touch. “You’re the one who forced me to watch the films.”

Jungkook felt his smile spread—impossibly so. He thought he looked a little like one-eyed Joker now as he remembered watching films in your dorm room. He remembered how the two of you had complained about the slow wi-fi, which kept reducing the film quality to 240p. Remembered pretending not to cry when one half of the couple in the film died. Remembered getting distracted by the look in your eyes as you got immersed in the plot. Remembered kissing you. Remembered making you smile as you gently pushed his chest away and told him to ‘look at the screen.’

And then he remembered where he was now, and the dim bathroom brightened under your smile as you packed up your medical kit.

“Hey, so, um…” He swallowed, watching you walk away to dispose of the waste. “Can we talk, then? Later?”

Your head was still heavy, and you had a startling realisation that the only time the weight on your shoulders lightened was when you were with Jungkook—when you were smiling at each other like middle-schoolers on a clumsy first date.

“We’ll talk,” you said while trying to quiet down your thoughts that insisted that this moment here was a sign. That this was the decision. “When the time is right.”

Jungkook looked almost ready to protest, but then he realised you were teasing him for having said the same thing to you before.

He remembered how that conversation went—he remembered everything and with such clarity that his palms tingled and his heart pounded.

“3 AM, then?” he asked, grinning. “Will you come find me?”

You smiled back. “I’ll come find you.”

When the members of Rated Riot returned backstage after meeting fans, the drinks had already been finished. Everyone was leaving for the bus.

Jungkook knew better than to stay in the dressing room by himself—despite having banned Sid from his shows and being across the continent from him—so he asked Taehyung to wait for him.

Then, as he was unplugging his charger by the bathroom door, his phone vibrated with a text message—from Jude, of all people. Throughout their friendship, Jungkook didn’t think Jude had ever texted him personally, and not in their groupchat.

The text read, “come outside to the smoking area? Sid is fuming bc he can’t enter the venue.. gotta talk.”

Right away, Jungkook felt a sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.

He’d kicked Sid out in Cologne. What the fuck was he doing in Manchester?

For a brief moment, Jungkook toyed with the possibility of saying he was busy. He did have to return to the bus in case you would look for him, after all. However, he knew that not answering Sid’s call—because, really, Jude was just the proxy here—could have ugly consequences.

Why’d he fly to the UK? What was wrong with him?

It wasn’t that Jungkook felt afraid of him. He was annoyed more than anything—he’d blacklisted Sid, and still couldn’t escape him.

But Jungkook was afraid of the impact that his inescapable connection to Sid could have on you and your relationship.

“You know what?” he said, raising his head to look at Taehyung. “Maybe you should go ahead without me. There’s something I need to take care of first.”

Taehyung glanced at the younger member’s phone, then back at his face. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing,” Jungkook said as he typed back a “K” to Jude. “It’ll just be a second.”

Taehyung merely shrugged. This reaction was so casual that Jungkook automatically assumed it to mean that the older member was going back to the bus.

“I can wait then,” Taehyung said instead.

Jungkook did a surprised double-take before he put his phone away. He realised suddenly that he was embarrassed for Taehyung to witness whatever would happen in the smoking area.

“No, it’s—I have to talk to Jude,” he said, hoping that the name would deter him, but the older boy stood his ground even more firmly.

“All the more reason for me to stay with you,” he said, making it clear that one black eye was already too much.

Jungkook knew they could continue to argue about this while Sid raged outside the venue. And he knew that if he refused Taehyung’s company again, the older boy might seek you out instead.

“Okay,” Jungkook decided. “That’s fine. You can wait here. Jude’s right outside in the smoking area, so—”

“Great,” Taehyung said, taking the first step towards the door of the dressing room. “I’ll come with.”

Jungkook watched him open the door. “Why? For the fresh air?”

His bandmate gave him a sarcastic half-smile. “To make sure you won’t need a whole blindfold for your performance tomorrow.”

Aware that he’d been outwitted, Jungkook rolled his eyes and left the dressing room with a protective Taehyung following behind him.

Sid, Jude, and Minjun were all gathered in the smoking area. Sid and Jude were standing tall—with Sid towering over the other boys, of course—while Minjun looked more like he was crouching. His eyes were downcast, and his posture reflected his wish to be anywhere but here.

Fortunately, Mick, the head of security, was there, too.

“What’s going on here?” Jungkook asked, his voice surprisingly firm—as if these people had never been his friends.

“This gentleman refuses to leave,” Mick reported, casting a scornful glance at Sid. Sid, in turn, responded by raising his middle finger. “I think that calling the police will resolve this issue faster.”

Jungkook would have loved to see Sid in the back of a police car.

But he was worried that this would only cause you more problems with the label. The executives were okay with Rated Riot embodying the rockstar stereotypes, but they probably wouldn’t approve of any police involvement.

On the other hand... why not get rid of Sid once and for all? If he continued to preach his truth without listening to anyone else, it might do him good to spend the night at the station. And if he was high, too, or happened to have something on him—both were likely, Jungkook decided when he glanced at the pockets of Sid’s puffy jacket—then he might stay in a cell for a while longer.

“Give me a minute, Mick, please,” Jungkook asked, taking out his phone. He’d decided to try to handle this quietly, but he still wanted the option of calling the police.

Mick looked at Taehyung for confirmation—which irked Jungkook, because he didn’t like being reminded of his young age and relative lack of authority here.

After Taehyung nodded, the bodyguard turned back to the vocalist.

“Alright,” Mick said. “I’ll be right inside.”

Minjun raised his eyes suddenly, and Jungkook expected to see relief on his face. He saw anxiety instead. Minjun regretted that Jungkook was getting involved again.

After Mick left, Sid finally stepped into the light from the neon sign above the exit. Immediately, Jungkook started to feel more confident about his eye patch, because Sid’s face was red, black, and blue, and so swollen that he could have auditioned for the role of the pumpkin in Cinderella.

“You have one minute to state your business and get your ass out of here,” Jungkook told him. “Or I’m calling the cops.”

Sid scoffed. Challenged by the doubt in his eyes, Jungkook unlocked his phone.

“I’ll pretend I don’t know that you’ve blacklisted me,” Sid snapped, ignoring Taehyung’s presence—which was alarming, because that had never happened before. Sid typically only showed his true self to those closest to him. Or to total strangers. “But it has come to my attention that Minjun broke the rules of the bet, and I can’t ignore that.”

Of course, Jungkook thought. Of course, he would follow him to a different country, even after their fight. Sid thought they had unfinished business.

“Technically,” Minjun said, “the rules don’t apply to me, seeing as I’m—”

“Seeing as you’re the one supposed to enforce the fucking rules,” Sid finished for him, feral rage dripping from every single word he spoke. “What should I make of that, hm? You’re picking sides?”

“I’m not—”

“Your parents won’t like that, I’m sure,” Sid added because he couldn’t help but always assert his dominance with veiled threats.

Minjun clenched his jaw. He remembered the repulsion in your eyes when he told you about this earlier. He felt himself gain strength from your reaction.

“Grow some balls,” he rasped, “and keep our parents out of the shit that you pull. We’re not in kindergarten.”

Sid narrowed his eyes and took a threatening step closer to him.

Meanwhile, Jude leaned over Jungkook to provide an unnecessary explanation, “Sid knows Minjun gave you back the keys.”

Jude smelled of booze and of something intentionally sweet. Ignoring him, Jungkook kept his gaze on Sid.

“It’s just a bet, dude,” Jungkook said before Sid decided to raise a fist. Minjun had never fought anyone before. Jungkook didn’t like his friend’s odds. “Let it go.”

Sid turned his head in what seemed like dramatic slow motion.

If there was a worse thing that Jungkook could have said, he hadn’t found it yet—Sid looked about ready to bite his head straight off and tear it into little pieces before feeding the remains to baby cheetahs or whatever scavengers he undoubtedly raised in the backyard of his family’s mansion.

“That narrative works out awfully well in your favour, doesn’t it?” Sid sneered. “Considering you walk out of here with the girl, after all, hmm?”

“The girl,” Jungkook countered, “was mine to begin with.”

Sid laughed, throwing his head back. “You were ready to give her up for a game just a few weeks ago!”

Jungkook clenched his fists. He couldn’t help but notice that it was “the girl” in particular that Sid brought up as unfair.

Taehyung watched the younger boy’s body language. He knew what might happen next: Jungkook had nothing to say to that, so he seemed intent on shifting the conversation to a more physical level. A level that would likely result in more black eyes and knocked-out teeth.

God, when did he and Luna become babysitters?

He let out a sigh and took a step forward. “We should go, Jungkook. The bus is leaving soon.”

Grounded by his voice, Jungkook glanced at the older member. Taehyung nodded and Jungkook took a deep breath to relax his muscles. He turned around.

There was no point to any of this. He had nothing left to prove to Sid.

“Oh, that’s right,” Sid called out as soon as Jungkook started to walk away. “You don’t have shit to say, so you leave. Fucking typical. Once a loser, always a loser.”

Like any rational person, Taehyung groaned and opened his mouth to suggest calling the police since Sid clearly didn’t want to go away quietly.

But the older member wasn’t able to react quickly enough when Jungkook suddenly whipped around and marched back towards Sid, his expression not just determined, but downright murderous.

Minjun widened his eyes and stepped into the gap between the two boys.

“Drop it, Sid,” he said, facing away from Jungkook. His voice sounded nervous, but he pushed Sid’s chest to prompt him to take a step back.

Sid stepped back—and then took another step to give the impression that he had pulled away voluntarily.

“Why should I be the one to drop it?” he demanded.

“Because you’re the only one who still cares about it,” Minjun said.

“And I’m one part of the bet,” Sid argued. “So, it’s hardly fair, isn’t it? I won the bike.”

Jungkook calmed down when he lost sight of Sid. Instead, he noted that Jude hadn’t objected once.

Technically, three people had made the bet, but Jude seemed to consider himself part of Sid now. Or he simply didn’t care about being involved anymore.

Taehyung lingered by the door, keeping quiet as Minjun handled the unfolding situation.

It was difficult not to say anything, however, because they seemed keen on having a discussion here, yet no one was bringing up the thing that seemed the most obvious to Taehyung: the real reason why Sid cared about the Katana so much, considering that he could have easily bought twenty of them if he wanted.

Just then, Jungkook chuckled sardonically.

“You just want to win for the sake of winning,” he said, giving Minjun a grateful pat on the back and stepping out from behind him.

Taehyung was taken aback by the statement. He had assumed—perhaps unfairly—that Jungkook would resort to violence to make his point. He wasn’t expecting the younger boy to voice everything that he’d been thinking.

“You don’t care about the bike,” Jungkook continued. “You just want me to suffer. Or—oh, that’s right. She’s the one that you really want. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

Everyone in this empty lot behind the building, including the stray cat that monitored the scene from across the street while licking its paw, watched Sid hesitate.

Probably for the first time in his life, Sid was confronted with the unexpected increase in his heartbeat.

He scoffed. Then scoffed again. Then once more, so that everyone and their mothers would understand that he found the accusation ridiculous.

And everyone understood, really. But Sid’s fidgeting wasn’t making the point he thought it was.

“I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re implying,” he retorted. “I’ve—I always get what I want. Why the fuck would I play games about—I never fucking grovel for girls. I don’t care how hot they are—”

“Right. But not this time, hm?” Jungkook countered. “You couldn’t get what you wanted, so now you’re doing everything you can to make sure I don’t either. You want to make us both miserable.”

Sid was embarrassed, Minjun realised as he watched his jaw tighten. He was utterly humiliated that someone would accuse him of having a crush.

“No. No, that was you. You made yourself miserable,” Sid deflected. “I had no part in that.”

How pathetic, Jungkook thought—but there was a satisfied smirk on his lips. He’d seen through Sid. And he’d forced him to lose his composure. Forced him to defend himself.

Jungkook remembered your description of Sid’s appearance last night; namely the comparison to a sewer rat—which was, honestly, very unfair for the rodent in question—and couldn’t hold himself back.

“Seeing your face every day actually brings me nothing but misery,” he said to Sid, “so you can’t escape the blame there.”

Taehyung looked away and puckered his lips to hide his reaction to the immature remark. Even he had to give a point to Jungkook here. Childish or not, it was clever enough to make Sid squint his eyes and hesitate once more.

“Don’t change the subject,” Sid said, which made Jungkook smile wider. “You broke the bet. The bike is mine.”

Minjun cut in with a groan.

“Sid, for fuck’s sake,” he said, tired of listening to the same thing over and over—and over—again. “It’s just a bet, so just fucking drop it. We’ll pay off the Katana if you care so much—”

“No.” Jungkook reached out a hand to touch Minjun’s shoulder, cutting him off. He glared at Sid. “You know what? You can keep the fucking keys to the bike,” he said as he pulled the keychain from his pocket, removed it, and tossed the keys roughly at Sid’s chest. The older boy scrambled to catch them. “Choke on them for all I care.”

Despite the venom in his words, Jungkook did not lose the sneering smile, and Sid’s eye twitched when he looked at him.

It didn’t feel satisfying when he held the motorcycle keys, but Jungkook was the one who looked like he won.

Jungkook turned away before Sid could come up with another mocking comment to make him stay, and headed towards Taehyung, who looked a little confounded.

The bassist needed a moment to process that the conversation had ended because Jungkook had decided it was over.

Taehyung felt quite proud of him, and when Jungkook looked at him, he reached out to tousle his hair affectionately. Jungkook backed away from his touch with a groan but still gave him a grateful look.

Instead of entering the venue, Taehyung led Jungkook to the side of the building, gesturing at the pack of cigarettes he had in his pocket.

A puzzled Minjun caught up with them a moment later.

“Why did you do that?” he asked while Jungkook turned to watch Sid and Jude walk away—both of them looked a little awkward, like they weren’t sure if the show they’d started was really over. “Why did you give him the keys?”

“He can keep the bike,” Jungkook said. “He’s never getting anything that really matters anyway.”

Minjun and Taehyung exchanged a look. They had both heard Sid stumble over his words earlier. They could tell that Sid had hoped the bet would end with Jungkook losing you, and not just the motorcycle.

Minjun still wasn’t sure if Sid’s actions were motivated by his wish to make Jungkook suffer, or if he really had feelings for you.

But he supposed it didn’t even matter anymore. Jungkook seemed ready to go to war for you either way.

“So, what—what are you going to do?” Minjun asked.

Jungkook shrugged and stuffed his hands into his now-empty pockets.

“It’s too late to do anything,” he said, smiling at his friend. “There’ll be other bikes. I don’t—it’s not what I’m worried about.”

Minjun nodded. He knew Jungkook wasn’t thinking about Sid actually trying to make a move on you. You’d snap his neck if he tried, and leave his body for the crows and pigeons to enjoy. Everyone knew it, and they would have wholeheartedly supported your reaction.

No, what Jungkook was really worried about was that Sid might have already done irreparable damage to your relationship. Minjun had hoped to help Jungkook by talking to you, but he wasn’t sure if it was any help at all.

“Good riddance,” Taehyung said slowly. “Sid, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah,” Minjun agreed right away. “Fuck him.”

“I can’t believe he’s here, though,” Jungkook said. He turned back to make sure that Sid had really left. “You think he’ll come to Glasgow, too, just to fuck with me?”

“Honestly, he might,” Minjun admitted. “He’s got the bike, but he can tell he didn’t actually win. He might want to retaliate.”

Jungkook groaned. Despite his hopes, he feared that Minjun was right.

“What can he do, though?” Taehyung asked, taking out the Marlboro pack from the pocket of his oversized leather jacket. “He’s alone.”

“Yeah.” Minjun pointed at him in agreement. “It’ll be a while before he finds someone who will follow his orders.”

“Well,” Jungkook said as Taehyung passed his cigarettes to both boys, “Jude might.”

“Jude can’t wipe his own ass unless he’s high as a kite,” Minjun said—his vowels softened by the cigarette between his lips. “I’m fucking pissed that he left with Sid, but—I mean, there’s nothing we can do.”

Taehyung opened his engraved Zippo lighter with a crisp click. He lit his own cigarette, then did the same for Jungkook and Minjun.

“If he shows his face anywhere near us again, I’m calling the cops,” Jungkook decided, shakily inhaling the smoke. “Tonight was the last time. I gave up the bike. I don’t care whether he thinks that’s enough. There’s nothing that he can hold against me anymore. We’re done.”

Minjun smiled at this.

Truth be told, he felt a little giddy from the significance of this moment. He’d never spent any time with Jungkook’s bandmates, and he knew it was because of Sid. Taehyung would not have offered them cigarettes if the obnoxious menace had been here, so this moment felt a bit like the start of something new. Something better.

Minjun exhaled the smoke while Jungkook confessed, “I don’t know what it’ll be like with him gone, though.”

Taehyung scoffed so vehemently that the smoke from his cigarette nearly got caught in his throat.

“I know,” he said. “Better.”

Minjun smirked and Jungkook nodded in agreement, but he still looked a little pale and wide-eyed as he toyed with the cigarette between his fingers.

“We’ll be fine,” Minjun promised. “Might get bored much faster because Sid won’t be here to think of ways we could kill ourselves, but honestly, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah, no—definitely.” Jungkook tried to smile, but there was something else on the tip of his tongue. He took a deep drag and slowly blew out the smoke before speaking. “This is, um—kind of weird, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever said this to you, but, uh—thank you. For being… for being yourself.”

Taehyung looked away, exhaling smoke into the parking lot to give the two boys more privacy without actually walking away from them.

Minjun was smiling, too. “Who else would I be?”

“You could have tried to be Sid,” Jungkook pointed out.

“Fuck no.”

They both laughed, and Taehyung stopped trying so hard to hide his smile.

For a minute, Sid’s absence was very palpable and it felt absolutely blissful.

“You’re welcome,” Minjun said, just when Taehyung offered, “another one?”

He pulled out another cigarette for himself and passed the rest to Minjun. While the two of them lit up another round, Jungkook finished his first one.

He was restless all of a sudden. This tended to happen to him, especially lately—the longer he was away from you, the harder it was not to think of you.

You’d told him you’d find him so you could talk.

What if you were looking for him? And he was wasting his time dealing with Sid’s temper tantrums again?

“I’m going to go,” he announced to the other boys as soon as the thought crossed his mind. He dropped the cigarette and stepped on it, twisting the sole of his shoe to put it out. “If those two come back, knock them out or call the police, I don’t care. I’ll see you on the bus, yeah?”

Taehyung chuckled, much calmer to let Jungkook wander off on his own now that he’d seen Sid leave with his own eyes.

“Sure,” he said, blowing smoke out. “You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

As he walked towards the door, Jungkook remembered what you’d told him in Stockholm. You’d been right back then.

If he surrounded himself with people who genuinely cared about him, he would have enough voices to keep his mind calm. He would have someone to call if he was alone.

He would be okay.

Jungkook came to a sudden stop in the corridor when he heard your voice inside Rated Riot’s dressing room. The door was ajar, and he could see your profile as you leaned against the dressing table and talked to someone. He bent down to listen and recognised Luna’s voice in there, too.

“Did Nick text you again?” Luna was asking you. “After that time on the bus?”

Naturally, Jungkook froze on the other side of the door.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, really.

But who in the great fuck was Nick?

As quietly as he could under the circumstances—his heart had flat-lined for a second or two before breaking into the most passionate beating he’d ever experienced—Jungkook stepped to the side so you wouldn’t spot him through the gap in the door, and strained to listen.

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh. Were you always this quiet when you spoke, or was he going deaf from his rapid heartbeat? “He texted me this morning. I didn’t reply, I was—well, with Jungkook.”

Now, Jungkook thought as he paled to match the plaster on the walls of the corridor, what—the absolute fuck—was that supposed to mean?

“But, uh, he said he’d like to arrange a formal meeting with me,” you continued, and the dressing table creaked as you moved away from it, “when he comes back from Australia with Reconnaissance.”

The terrified lightbulb at the end of the corridor flickered erratically as Jungkook frowned.

Nick Zhou—your supervisor at your first internship after graduation—returned to his memory. Jungkook had heard enough to understand that Nick managed Reconnaissance now.

That probably meant that you weren’t seeing anyone else. But Jungkook wasn’t sure if he was relieved by this.

“Are you going to go to this meeting?” Luna asked.

Good question, Jungkook thought. And then, immediately after—please say no. Please say no. Please say no.

“I… I don’t know. I think I should,” you said. Jungkook dug his nails into the pillows of his palms. “All our conversations about this had been over the phone, you know? I think it might be good to hear him out properly, face-to-face.”

“So, you’re really considering this then, huh?” Luna said.

You were quiet for a very long time.

Jungkook measured each second of your silence in the beats of his heart: bang-bang-bang, one, bang-bang-bang, two, bang-bang-bang, three.

“I guess I am,” you finally said. “N-not because I suddenly decided I don’t want to work with Rated Riot anymore. I just—well, in light of everything that happened, I think that hearing Nick out just seems like a… reasonable thing to do.”

Jungkook decided he’d heard enough.

He thought he knew what you would say next. He knew what happened. He knew what this “everything” was.

His immaturity. His constant dependence on you.

His tendency to fail at everything that he tried to do for you.

His inability to prove that he deserved another chance with you.

Finally, the bet.

So, there it was, then. He’d always been terrified of letting you down, and he did that anyway.

Exhaling shakily, Jungkook turned around and crossed the corridor toward the main exit where the tour bus was parked.

You were supposed to talk. Now he wasn’t sure if he’d find what to say.

If Jungkook hadn’t walked away, however—if he’d stayed for a minute longer—he would have heard what Taehyung caught as he returned to the dressing room, biting on the filter of a new cigarette.

“If it really came down to it, then—you know,” you were saying, “I-I couldn’t be with him, and still be his manager at the same time.”

The door creaked.

“Oh.” Taehyung stopped in the doorway, not sure if he was more surprised by your words or by the unexpected noise from the door. “Sorry, am I—? I can leave.”

You had been cleaning up backstage when Luna joined you after she lost track of Taehyung. That made you realise that you hadn’t seen him or Jungkook in a while. But now that Taehyung was here, the two of you looked at him as if you had never seen him before in your lives.

The expression on Taehyung’s face was not at all ambiguous. He knew what he’d just heard. You hadn’t used Jungkook’s name, but he was everywhere in this room and in your eyes.

Noting your expression and the way the can of beer in your hands began to tremble, Luna slid off the couch and walked over to her boyfriend.

“We were looking for you!” she exclaimed with far more anger than she actually felt. “Where were you?”

“I was—Jungkook and I just—we stepped outside for a second,” he said as he pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it behind his ear. “Sorry.”

“You could have texted,” Luna said, her voice rushed. She glanced at you over her shoulder. “We were just about to head back to the bus, weren’t we? That’s what we were discussing.”

“Right,” Taehyung said. “Well, I didn’t hear anything else.”

God, you thought. The three of you were the main cast in a poorly scripted tragicomedy all of a sudden.

“Yeah, we should go,” you said, hoping that the warmth you felt all over your body didn’t show on your face—it didn’t. But your panicked gaze still gave you away. “We’re leaving in half an hour. Is he on the bus?”

Again, the pronoun that did not need an explanation—Taehyung nodded right away.

“Yeah, he—he was on his way there,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. “You can go. I’ll pack the rest of our things first.”

“We’ll help,” Luna offered. “You need to rest as much as possible.”

You were afraid she would say that. But she and Taehyung began to gather the empty paper cups and the staff members’ forgotten phones before you could object.

Stunned momentarily, you realised—like Jungkook had before—that you were surrounded by people who loved you.

And you were afraid, suddenly, to lose this if you left to work with Reconnaissance. Just like you were afraid of what would happen between you and Jungkook if you didn’t leave.

The hopelessness of the situation stayed with Jungkook as he got on the bus.

He chose not to wait for you, and instead went to the mini-fridge to find Jack Daniels. And while looking for that, he also befriended Jim Beam and Johnnie Walker. Jose Cuervo was, sadly, already almost empty.

When you opened the door of the bus half an hour later—surprised (and a little concerned) to see that it was empty—Jungkook was already feeling a pleasant buzz. He wasn’t quite drunk, but he definitely wasn’t sober as he stumbled a little while trying to climb out of his bunk and stretch his legs outside before the trip.

The alcohol had dulled the pain a little—as it was notorious for doing—but he still flinched when he saw the door open and heard your voice outside the bus.

“You need help standing?” you asked—louder than he had anticipated—and he spun on his axis, gripping the stair railing to steady himself.

He was happy to see you. And so tremendously hurt.

“Nope,” he said, licking his lips. “I’m perfect.”

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked.

“Flat tire,” Jungkook mumbled, slurring the consonants as he joined you outside the bus. “Driver said we’d be here for another hour. He doesn’t have a spare. Everyone else went—for a smoke, I don’t know.”

His eye patch had slid off and was caught in his messy hair. But the bandages around his eye had remained in place.

His scent was whiskey, but the look in his eyes was sober pain.

You were a little afraid of him like this because you didn’t know what he would tell you next.

“Mmhm,” you said. “And, uh—how come we’re drinking tonight?”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “We have our reasons.”

You waited for him to continue by counting the dark pebbles under your shoes. He leaned his back against the metal railing of the bus steps and gave you a long look.

“Sid’s here,” he said.

You looked up, aghast. Terror was the first thing you felt, and aggravation followed shortly after.

“What?” you questioned. “How?”

“He followed me to Manchester for the Katana,” Jungkook explained. “Minjun had given me back the keys, and Sid found out about it.”

“I thought you had—”

“I had,” he confirmed. He’d triple-checked with Mick to make sure Sid was really banned. “He couldn’t enter the venue, so Jude texted me to come outside. Mick suggested calling the police.”

You liked Mick. Everyone did. He was the quiet backbone of this entire tour.

But you didn’t like that Jungkook seemed to disagree with Mick’s suggestion.

“Why didn’t you?” you asked slowly. You thought you understood why Jungkook decided to finish off the most expensive bottles of whiskey that you had on the bus. Sid’s unexpected reappearance was a good reason to drink.

“I would have,” he said. “But I gave Sid the keys and he left. He’s got no reason to come back now. We’re done.”

You appreciated the cold wind on your face, because learning that Jungkook had given up his Katana willingly—to get Sid off his back for good—was painful. It felt heavy in your chest and in your lungs.

“Oh,” you managed.

“I really mean it. If he decides to show his face again despite that, I’m—I’m letting Mick handle it,” Jungkook promised. “He can call the cops or do whatever else he wants. Sid wanted to win the bet, well, he won it. I’m not going to see him again. I really mean it.”

His voice grew in volume despite getting hoarse. He was so distressed that he was nearing hysteria.

It occurred to you that he thought you would blame him for this. Like it was his fault that Sid was so dedicated to his craft of being a pest that he travelled across Europe for it.

“I’m not saying one word to him ever again,” Jungkook continued, all his words coming out in one breath. “I’m—I’m done. I swear. I’m not going—”

“I know,” you cut in softly before his panicked rambling could get worse. “I believe you.”

“I—” he stopped. His face regained some liveliness. “Thank you.”

“Is that your reason for drinking?” you asked, even though, deep down, you knew it wasn’t. “I thought we were supposed to talk.”

“I thought so, too,” he said, then inhaled sharply and plopped down on the bottom step, banging his thigh against the metal railing and wincing in pain. “Shit. But then I thought—I thought I’d rather get drunk than have my heart shattered. So here we are.”

Your stomach plummeted and the muscles all over your body jolted awake.

“What—what are you talking about?” you asked, looking around. Taehyung and Luna wanted to grab some snacks at the corner shop across the street, but you were still worried they’d catch you here.

Jungkook rested his head against the door frame.

“I’m... really, I’m tired of everything,” he said with a sigh. “I shouldn’t have messed around. I should have been honest with you about—about everything right away.”

You leaned your hip against the side of the bus. You appreciated him talking to you now, but you both knew that this hadn’t always been the case.

“You... should have been,” you concurred awkwardly.

“But I wasn’t,” he finished. “And now I’m too tired to keep trying. To keep knocking on a—the door is closed. Locked. I get it. You say you believe me, but I know the truth. I really fucked up. Not just with the—with the bet. I never treated you right. You do so much. You take care of everyone in your life.” He paused to take a breath. “And I’ve always been another fucking burden. I won’t—I won’t be that anymore. You won’t need to take care of me anymore. I promise.”

You looked at him with a worried wrinkle between your brows. “Jungkook, I’m your manager—”

“You’re my everything,” he cut you off and brought goosebumps to the surface of your skin. “But I’ve been fucking awful to you. You deserve so much better. I’m so—I’m so sorry. I have no right to—to expect you to come back to me. B-but I want to show you that I can be different. I want to show you the guy that I am without Sid. You know that guy. You know what he’s like. I want to show him to you again.”

You swallowed as your eyes drifted from his face to the rough gravel under your shoes, to the door of the venue, and eventually settled on your own crossed arms.

You felt tired, too, but this wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from him. You wondered what brought this on so suddenly.

“I really don’t want you to leave,” he continued. You straightened, realising what this was about. “But I… I understand if you will. I’ve always been selfish when it comes to you, but if I want—I want you to see that I’m growing. And because of that, I can’t hold you back.”

Your heart was beating too much, too intensely, too desperately for you to respond.

It felt—and, evidently, your heart realised it before your brain did—like Jungkook was making the decision about the rest of your life for you. A decision that you didn’t want to make.

“It’s over,” he said. “I get it. But the band loves you. We need you. You’re our—we’re nothing without you. We’re not Rated Riot. But we—the guys wouldn’t force you to stay. And I know I can’t do that, either. So, if leaving the band is the right choice for you… then you should go. You should always do what’s best for you. I wish I was what was best for you, but I’m not. Actually, I don’t think there’s anyone who would be good enough for you in my eyes, but—”

“Jungkook, please,” you finally whispered—the words painful on your numb tongue.

“Right, sorry,” he pulled back. You were afraid that if you closed your eyes, you wouldn’t be able to hear him anymore. “What I mean is, you deserve the best, and I’m so fucking far from it. I love you so much, but I don’t know if that’s enough. I just—I want you to know that if you decide to stay with us, I’ll never let you down again. But if you choose to go… I-I would understand. Ultimately, it’s your choice, as it should be.”

He stopped talking and allowed the night to fill the silence.

You didn’t know what was going to happen next.

He’d told you a lot over the past few days. He brought back a lot of memories, a lot of mistakes. And now he was taking action, too, to make sure to fix those mistakes. To make sure he didn’t repeat them.

He made a bet with Sid.

And this bet tried to prove that he still hadn’t changed, that his friends were still his main priority. But he black-listed Sid from Rated Riot’s shows and gave up his bike to make sure Sid didn’t come back.

The bet tried to prove that the two of you still couldn’t communicate. But he told you everything that he had been too afraid to say in your relationship.

The bet tried to prove that he didn’t really care about you. But he stayed with you when you were feeling your best and when you were at your most vulnerable.

The bet tried to prove that he only cared about himself. But after telling you how much he loved you, he was letting you go.

Again and again and again his words echoed in your head.

The determined I’ll be here, and the tentative It’s a song about my favourite thing in the world.

The terrified I can’t lose you, and the confident I’ll always love you.

You didn’t want to believe him when he had told you he loved you—and that was what this was about.

You were afraid of what it would mean—of what would happen—if all that there was to it, if all that hid under your uncertainty, was just your love for each other.

Minjun had made a reasonable point when he asked whether you were upset about the bet or about Jungkook’s feelings.

Perhaps the bet had quickly turned into an easy excuse not to be together. It was bad, it was awful, it was so terrible—but all it really did was provide a comfortable cover for your own fear and anxiety about him. About yourself. About you, together.

In retrospect, probably the worst repercussion of the bet was that it returned the two of you to the same place you were in before you learned about it. The place where you both wanted each other—so much—but you couldn’t.

As the silence continued to envelop the bus, competing with the night for dominance, it swallowed the sounds of the distant chatter of the people nearby.

You pulled back from the bus. It was time to stand up. Time to go.

“Come on,” you said quietly. “It’s getting cold.”

Jungkook looked at you from the bottom step by the door, and you realised that he’d been wrong that night in Manchester when he said that your favourite thing in the world was the night sky.

It wasn’t.

It was the stars—whole constellations, each formed after a specific moment in life—and the moon, and half of an entire galaxy in his eyes.

It was the way they brightened when he smiled at you, and the way they narrowed when you teased him. It was the way they stilled when he was listening to you speak, and the way they softened when he saw you at every venue. At every practice. Every soundcheck. Every concert. Every hotel. Every empty European street. Every night, and every morning. Year, after year, after year, after—

Your hands trembled as you watched him, realising with a startled burst in your chest that he loved you. He has loved you for as long as you’ve known him.

And against all odds, against all rational thoughts and fateful coincidences, against all wishes upon stars, you realised that you’ve always loved him, too.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

chapter title credits: the devil wears prada, “salt”

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[hanafubukki]

*breaks your door with an axe in the shape of bat and peeks inside* hey.

So! I got hungry for soft Lilia and baby silver with a Yuu that accidentally space time traveled in the wrong direction for a couple of days.

And for a couple of days they help take care of a baby silver, with a moody malleus showing up from time to time in the span of the weekend Yuu stayed.

So cottage core family moments! From preparing Silvers milk/food to telling certain dragon to stop staring from outside with a threating look so Yuu doesn’t put anything sus in the food.

“Malleus, please, stop! If you want, you can come in and help with the cooking”

“Help? How bold of you human, asking the prince that so humbly allows you to exist in this land, to help you with a task reserved to who are my servants,”

“Shame, I was going to ask you to be my taste tester for the ice cream. Guess I can ask Lilia,”

“But I am kind and I will assist you in your cooking endeavors!”

Yuu’s food is too good to pass for MalMal, as Yuu knows exactly what to put that he likes whenever he comes over! Which is almost every day.

He may be a prince, but no one is mighty enough to not lick the cake batter from the bowl.

Hello Anonie 🌺🌻💚

With all of you breaking down my door, I think I’m going to be cold this rainy winter 🤣🤣

…do you think Diasomnia will let me stay with them? 😆💞 also, can I have that axe I want to use it on the senate 🤣 (at least you didn’t go “here’s Johnny!”)

You are speaking my love language because yes!! Time travel shenanigans my love!!

Malleus adores Silver. He would see you and remember the stories he heard about human and would be extra protective. Lilia says it’s fine. You have the blessing of the night fae on you. Fae can tell when people lie and you have spoken nothing but the truth.

Haven’t given them details of the future, but he can’t blame you for being precautious.

Even so, Malleus keeps his guard up until, well, you bribe him.

You had seen all sides of Malleus Draconia from your time at NRC, that whole dream fiasco, and even beyond that.

But this side? The very protective and yet slightly rebellious side? Was new to you. You kind of enjoyed this more expressive Malleus.

You definitely enjoyed taking care of baby Silver. He was beyond precious and such a happy baby.

You can see why Lilia loves his sons so much. Both of them are adorable.

A part of you wanted to stay, wanted to enjoy this tranquility.

But no, you couldn’t.

You had so much waiting for you in the future.

These little ones will grow into fine men.

A lover who you adore with your whole heart.

You couldn’t wait until you returned to your time, so you can tease them.

“I see Malleus warmed up to you.”

“Not with any help from you.”

Lilia laughed, “I knew you could handle it.”

“Father’s intuition?”

“A bit of that and something else.”

With the way Lilia eyed the chain around your neck, you knew he had an idea.

The chain held your wedding ring.

Your husband always was a cheeky and smart one even during the NRC days, baring a certain event that is.

Smart bat dad.

You opened your eyes to fluttering kisses all over your face.

“Welcome back, Precious.”

You pulled Lilia down into a kiss.

“I’m back.”

☺️🌺🌻 Surprise! They are married and you were from a further future beyond nrc time.