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monsterfloofs · 2 days ago

Note

Found this blog through the cute emoji challenge you do! So here’s mine!

🐺🌹🖤

Hi Anon! This story… oh man this story has been a long time coming. I have kept this note in my inbox for oh gosh… two years apparently??? I wanted to make sure that this story got made for you. Unfortunately, this request sent just as my motivation for the monster emoji maker stories left me! ;O;;; ) I do apologize for the wait. On the bright side, this… ended up being quite the story, I put a lot of love and work into this, and I really hope you enjoy it!

🥀 Briar Wolfe 🥀

Edrick (Wolf Monster) x Anonymous Reader (sfw)

Trigger Warning : Angst and light violence!

Once a thriving palace, now no more

A curse rotting on its forgotten shore.

With vines of roses, a prick of dread,

its valiant hero has lost its head.

One good heart yet remains on this stage,

the last of royalty in a thorny cage.

Between the gnarled thicket of thorns and roses lay the skeleton of a broken castle. Where there had once been music and light, now empty, the joy constricted out of its lungs by brambles that grow thicker everyday. The tall spires are a ghoulish color of oxidized bronze, the rusted greenish blue that slowly creeps into every crevice, every nook. Soon the tall sentry towers will be swallowed by thorns and roses as well. At one time, perhaps this would paint a prettier picture in the mind's eye, of somewhere lonely and enticing. Yet living here, amongst the flowers and thorns, there is no joy. The curse that settled here, has not only spread wings over the land, but also has curled itself tightly into the heart of man. A living breathing, misery.

There are nicks and notches on the columns in the throne room, scrawling across the wood until whoever scrawled them could reach no higher. The tracking of days, months, and years that have gone by. Other things are sprawled across the floor. Pots, pans, flint, firewood, books dull with age and a small bejeweled dagger. It was strange to look around and see home, yet also realize it was a ghost of what had been. I shook out the map in my hands, staring at the places in the castle that had been drawn and the red marks I had made later as I ran out of possible exits, until lastly. . . was the courtyard.

The courtyard could lead to a potential escape, with food dwindling and supplies running out, it was one of the easier exits to take, except for one problem.

I blink, glancing up as a forlorn howl makes me shudder.

Yes. One problem, one very big problem.

I rose to my feet cautiously and tiptoed to one of the broken windows. My heart squeezed in my chest as I took a deep breath. The shambling form appeared by the broken fountain outside, his nose up in the air and snuffling, looking for prey. His eyesight is long gone, with thorns overgrown around his face, the spiders web of vines across him giving him an additional severity to the armor he wore. A tattered cloak dragging behind him as he began to limp his way through the courtyard.

“Edrick.” I whispered in a short breath. Gods, everytime I looked upon him my heart convulsed with pain. Edrick with the amber eyes and fluffy ears I used to play with when we were just children. I, a spoiled child and he, whose father before him was a knight. Edrick, who followed in his fathers footsteps, bathed in golden light on the day he kneeled before the throne to be knighted. Edrick whose tail would wag with joy, even though it caused him to be embarrassed.

Edrick, now this shambled rabid beast who snapped and snarled. Who pounced on those too weak to fight back. A perversion to everything he once stood for.

I mourned the loss of my friend for as long as the curse has been on this land. While I had made many sacrifices to survive now, I could never bring myself to face Edrick. Too many memories. The realization that I had to choose my own survival over a loved one, made my heart feel as though it had begun to rot inside my chest.

I told myself again and again, a tome from the wizards dreamhold might be able to aid me to break this curse, and save Edrick from his fate. Yet the tower was on the other side of the courtyard, and the loop of problems came back full circle. From what I had observed, Edrick was blind from the crowny vines across his face, and used his nose to make up for this lack of sight. While that perhaps might give me the smallest glimmers of hope, his sense of smell was more acute than a human’s could ever be. Back from that onslaught of memories I watch him now, sniffing- lumbering back and forth while he makes a slow but steady zig zag towards the window.

I cautiously stepped back, folding up the map and putting it into my satchel. I stayed quiet as I tip toe back to my belongings, I retrieve the dagger from its place on the floor. I reclaim the flint and not much else. If I took too many things it would only slow me down, but once I arrived at the other side, I would have to scout for new resources.

Dear sweet Edrick, I hope you forgive me.

I crept along the throne room, watching Edrick shamble alongside me, his mouth open and panting, his chest heaving greedily. I pulled old clothes from the satchel, gave one last glance to the figure outside before slamming the back of the dagger into the window. Edricks ears shot up, and he gave a scream of triumph as I threw my old clothes out the broken window. Hearing the cloth being shredded apart, I ran for the door. Pushed my back into the sturdy wood, arms strained, it opened stubbornly and I sprinted out onto the cobbled path. I heard another scream soon enough, this one enraged and bloodthirsty. I jumped the fountain and stumbled as I heard the loud snap of teeth from behind. Just a breath of air away from me, I felt that great head lunge and miss, tears spilled from my eyes as I continued to run.

With a strength I didn’t know I possessed had overtaken me, and the snapping jaws were gone as the door to the tower closed with a deep shudder.

I slid onto the floor, in a heap, shoulders jerked as the throb of my heartbreak squeezed, pulsated from my throat. I gasped, and clutched my throat with two hands, an attempt to stifle the sounds that threatened to break free. I rocked slowly back and forth, teeth clenched, another hum of pain and heartbreak skittered from me.

I want Edrick back, my sweet Edrick, the man I had wanted to marry.

It took me a while to calm myself down, I breathed deep garbled breaths that made my lungs ache with the effort.

I will find a way to fix this. I have to.

My legs shook but I rose to my feet, I replaced my dagger into my satchel, numb fingers fumbling in striking the flint. My hands shook as I made attempt after attempt, then finally, a spark of fire ignited one of torches on the wall. With a dim orange light the darkness around me receded ever so slightly, I could make out the foggy steps that spiraled around the core of the stone tower.

“May the Goddess light my path.” I whisper softly, letting my flint drop into my satchel as I take the torch with both hands, and carefully ease it from its place upon the wall.

If I could make it to the top. I may be able to find something that could help. But what if there is no cure? As far as I could remember, this new life had foggily overtaken the other, hazy halcyon days now a phantom of my old life. The curse began and Chivall, the royal advisor to the king, had immediately set about trying to procure a solution. He had been locked away for days within the tower. As the thorns slowly choked life from the palace. As fights began to break out, as the palace grounds became an awful chess board, the tower remained a silent sentinel. He can't still be alive can he? Perhaps if Chivall is no longer here, at the very least, his studies still may be. I can't believe whatever entity is plaguing the Kingdom wouldn't destroy his work. I can't give up hope now. I am one step closer to a solution. One step closer.

The slow ascend with my whirling thoughts left my legs shaky, and my breathing shallow. I stood facing the door, pausing to reclaim by breath before my fingers and palm slid flat against the dark wood. I braced my arms and slowly pushed it open. A slow high wheeze as it swung on unused hinges.

The room was deserted, there were signs of a struggle with overturned papers and chairs. Many of the wizards' curiosities were left unscathed gathering dust. Except for the beautiful glass bird who had been one of his favorite curios. It sat broken in a corner, one wing still somewhat intact. The feathers fanned open as if it had been knocked out of the air from mid flight. The room held a heaviness swathed in the air, with a sour smell that pressed uncomfortably against the back of the throat. There were dark brown stains on the floor, someone had been forcibly dragged from the tower. Though where they had gone was not known. I step over the dried blood, with my gaze swiveling around the room. It was not ransacked, many things were left as it was when it had been while occupied. So perhaps, there was still a small glimmer of hope to be had.

I light a few of the other torches within the room, before settling the one in my hand into a metal wall sconce and replacing the unlit torch onto a table stacked with books. I turned over the scattered pages to reveal they are blank, then I began to pull open drawers, reaching an arms deep into the cabinets with fingers splayed searching for hidden panels.

Perhaps they had been taken before they could find a solution. Perhaps there is no solution to be had.

I shook the stray thought away and continued the search. Bending over to take a look at the undersides of drawers, precariously perched on a chair as I pull books from a high shelf. I kept my ears tuned into my surroundings, listening for any sounds that would give me cause to beat a hurried retreat.

I resolve my search to stand in the middle of the room, empty handed. "There's nothing here." I let myself whisper those words, the words that leaden my chest and make my breath struggle to escape. I close my eyes, squeezing them tightly as I feel the world fragment and go dark around me.

And even if there was something to be found. Would I even be able to identify it?

There is a soft coo of a dove that causes me to start at the sound, eyes flying open. I look up to the rafters and see nothing. It is silent for a beat before I hear new sounds, a scraping across the floor, that has my hand flying to my satchel. My eyes land on the glass bird as it attempts to move, its large opalescent eyes staring up at me.

The bird is enchanted, I never knew.

I grab a cloth to pad my hands and carefully attempt to right the creature, it's one wing brokenly trying to tuck itself against the bird's body. Warbling weakly as it nestles into my hands. Poor creature. It's master is gone and without them it will surely lose what magick it has left.

"I am sorry I cannot help you," I whisper softly to the bird. "I have no magick to aid you."

The glassy feathers lift up in a comfortable way and their eyes slowly close, settling down into a comfortable nap. Then, before my eyes, the area within the glass turns a rainbow of prismatic colors before the bird's form starts to melt in my hands. Changing and contorting, reshaping itself to become a broken wizard's staff, with the opalescent eyes becoming a round orb of shifting color that resides at the very top.

My heart starts beating faster, hands trembling as I hold this new found object. An object that may very well change the tides of the castle's predicament. If only I knew how to utilize it. I feel more and more perplexed watching the staff with anticipation to see if any new revelations come with its new form. Yet the staff remains silent, its unearthly presence making my hand tingle with strange energy.

I have never held any kind of magickal implement before. I had been curious about magick truly, but was not allowed to study such things. Magick was for those who could wield it, and those who did not have the gift would never dare to try. My plan was short sighted at best, but now I could truly feel the scope of its foolishness. I was far out of my depth yet, it was the only option I could think of to be a potential balm.

"I. . . do not know how to utilize your gift." I chose to speak earnestly, talking to the staff as if it were a close companion. "I know not of these things, but I know your old master was a wise and loving creature. One who had been trying to break this curse, please. . ." I pause hesitating, "Dear staff, lend me your wisdom so that I may finish what he started."

There is a whoosh of wind that scatters papers into a vortex. The wall sconces fire turning blue and flaring up towards the ceiling. Standing in the eye of the storm I grip the staff with both hands, eyes as round as saucers as the room rights itself. Papers settle back into neat piles, chairs right itself with invisible hands, the table flipping back onto its feet. I gawk at the room, the room I remember, with its perfectly precarious stack of books and curios shining and dusted. A trick? A jump in time? Or simply magick doing what it does best. I had no answers. Yet I ran to the wizards desk as I saw papers in a neat stack, one hand spreading them across the table.

Diagrams I could not read, but clever letters that talked about the possibility to enchant an item to be used to severe the rampant magick from its host. It's a dark and powerful kind of spell. Chivall had written in their looping writing. Not only can said curse breaker be used to cut curses and sever spells, it can be used in various other terrible ways. It can steal the magick from others by cutting off the hand of a fellow magickian. It is a last resort, and I am hesitant to bring such an object into being. Only if I know that I can destroy it once its grisly task is over do I even dare to consider this. If it fell into the hands of someone who has naught a thought for anyone but themselves, I shudder to think what kind of monster would be created then.

My eyebrows furrow. Letting those words sink in. Dangerous and a solution not to be taken lightly, but I did not see any other way. "Can this be made still?" I asked the staff. I looked back to read and reread the passage. It cuts curses and severs spells. Such wording sounds like a blade. I hesitantly reach for my satchel and free the dagger from it's confines. Placing it upon the table. "Will this do?"

There is a spark of light from the staff once more, a brightness that makes me twist my head away and close my eyes. The lines of ink upon the paper turning gold and shimmering. As the light fades my eyes flicker to the dagger. The golden blade is now a brilliant molten red, heat radiating off of it in waves. As it dulls back to its original coloration the staff seems to crumble within my hand. Ribbons of white prismatic color flaking off as it coils in upon itself. The magick object shifts yet again, until it is a small white opalescent pendant that softly falls into my palm. I take a deep uneasy breath.

Fingers slowly curl around the gem, pressing my forehead against my fingers. “Thank you for your gift.” I murmur softly, for a moment the world is at a stand still. I stare from the necklace to the golden dagger on the table. I bow my head and respectfully let the silver chain drop around my shoulders, the white opalescent gem glinting a fiery blue as it rests against my collar bone. It still feels strange, a thrum that makes my skin prickle as my thumb worries against the stone. Then, with a hesitant touch, I hesitantly tap the blade of the dagger. It is cool to the touch, despite being molten red only moments ago. Fingers sliding cautiously around its handle before their grip tightens and my knuckles bulge.

The tower room is left behind, pristine and silent. Looking down to the stairs below, from where I stand, it is like a gaping maw with crooked teeth leading me back down, down, down.

What if I fail? Or worse yet, what if I have to kill him? I can see my hands, my hands, my hands. My hands and the hilt of the dagger gleaming. The blade plunged into his chest. The strangled gasping of breath. Gods what if I have to kill him. Could I live with myself? Could I bare to live with myself if I did? I don't know, I don't know. He wants to kill me. He attacked me, chased me. He doesn't know me anymore. Is that true? Or course it is. If he loved me, like before he would have stopped. Why does he not remember me? Why does he not remember? I don’t understand. I just don’t. Could I live with myself if [ I open the door. ] I had to kill him? Perhaps I could then take the blade and end my own existence as well. Then at the very least perhaps we could find each other once more. Gods, I can't bear to think about that. I can't think about that. Stop it! Stop it! You can't do this to yourself! But the blade gleams wickedly and blood pools onto the ground. My knees are soaked, my face is splattered. His hand reaches for me. Stop it. His hand reaches for me before it falls. Stop it. It falls to the ground and stills. Stop it. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing I can do. All I can do is watch. I won't let that happen. How can you stop it? I won't let that happen, I won't, I won't, I won't let that happen. How can you stop it?

I move as if within a dream, stepping back into the light of the outside world. The courtyard is grey. An abysmal, haunting grey, where phantoms of the past hour chasing each other in my mind. Yet, there are no signs of life here. There is no bird song, no sounds other than my footsteps clicking on stone. I do not hear Edrick, and my senses are strung so tightly they are at risk of fraying. I hold the dagger to my breast with both hands. Both hands clench so tightly that they prickle and ache. The only thing grounding myself to this moment, this space of time, the ache. I look left and then right, pivoting on my heel in a slow circle. No sign. There is no sign of him, and no sign of where he would have gone. I start moving slowly, my heart beating in my throat. My eyes locked on the stone edge of what I could see. I turned the corner and I see his looming shape lumbering like a bear towards me. Chest panting, mouth open, excited.

"Edrick," I rasp past the lump in my throat, watching his lip peel back and show those rows of teeth. I swallow hard, as my whole body shakes with nerves. "Plea-Please Edrick. Come to your senses, I don't want to fight you, I-I love you."

It was absolute mockery, the sneer of that wide split mouth. Then he lunged, without reply. My chest rising and falling quaking all over. I unsheath the dagger and plead to whatever Goddess is watching that my hand strikes true. I turn tail and run, hoping that the fountain will be enough of an obstacle that it will buy me more time. Then the world goes sideways. The ground rushing up to meet me. I have just enough time to turn, to twist onto my back as Edrick's maw sunk savagely into my leg. Vision blurring at the edges there is a high dull scream, a sound in my throat that I barely recognize as it sounds so far away. Seeing pops of color behind my eyes. I slip the dagger between the vines that crown his eyes and pull. The vines snapping in the blades wake.

Edrick reels backwards, jaw slack as he immediately lets go of me. His big furry hands fly to his face, which in my hazy vision I catch a glimpse of red where his eyes should be. All along his form, the vines begin to shrivel and grey, the deep saturated blood colored roses crumple and wither into blacked husks. Edrick stumbles, teetering on the brink before he collapses to the ground. My hand shakes so much that my fingers cannot keep a hold of my blade. I begin to crawl towards him on hands and knees, blade dropped and forgotten. "Edrick?" My throat is so tight that I can barely manage to make the words escape me.

"My. . . love?" His voice is ragged, and hasn't been used in a very long time. "My eyes, what has happened to my eyes?" A shudder runs through him, and his face lifts out of his hands, nose scenting the air. I freeze in place, blinking back tears.

"Why do I smell blood?"

I make a strangled sound, and Edrick unsteadily gets to his feet, nose twitching, fluffy eyebrows drawn together. "Is. . . are you hurt? Who has done this to you?"

That being the turning point in which I cry. I finally, finally can let myself cry. The fear, the pain, the relief, a torrent of emotions I can no longer push back for the sake of survival. Edricks hands outstretched as he slowly makes his way back towards me. One steady foot patting its way across the tile before he takes a step. He moves wearily, and unsure, one searching step after another, he finds the rim of the fountain, using it to feel his way to me. I look at his face, his eyes, and cry even harder. Desperately grabbing his hand and holding it tightly.

"What has happened?" Edrick whispers, his own voice tight and unsure. He crouches and I painfully push myself up to sit on the stone ledge. My leg burning from the bite.

"Do you not remember?" I force the words out, behind a heaving breath. "No. . ." He replies softly before giving a growl. I freeze, before gently taking his other paw to stop him from swiping at his eyes.

"D-don't, you'll make it worse," I hesitate, before saying, "Something. . . has gored your eyes. . ." He is quiet, processing the information, a hand straying to his cheek before his fingers clench. I reach up, cupping his furry cheeks in my hands, my forehead resting against his.

"What was it?" He rasps, and my heart breaks, at the emotion that colors his voice.

"I don't truly know. . . A spell of some kind. A similar spell that has woven its way across the castle ground." Ed growls and I jolt without meaning to.

"I can't remember, why can't I remember?" He shakes his head from side to side, as if willing the fog in his mind to clear. "Why do you smell. . . so afraid?"

I swallow and feel ashamed. What should I say? What can I say? I purse my lips together, squeeze my eyes shut. "A lot of things have changed, since you've been away."

Edrick tilts his head, "I don't understand."

"Edrick. . ." I say, my voice a hoarse whisper. "I think we are the only two left alive in the castle."

Edrick tenses, and I release a shaky breath. "How can that be?" He asks, instead of responding right away, I wrap my arms around him, and hold him closer. "I am not sure myself," suddenly I feel as if I am lead. "The palace. . . is no longer safe. It has fallen to ruin while you have been gone. The castle is overgrown with. . . these briar vines and roses. There have been dangers lurking in the castle, at one point the vines had a will of their own, the guards were dragged away, people began to disappear until there weren't many of us left."

His arms wrap around me as well, and we stay huddled together for what feels like hours. I wished Edrick and I could stay together like this for eons more. Mourn our past lives, our losses, lick our wounds. It isn't safe to do so, not yet. Not while this labyrinth of danger was the cage we reside. I relent and gently pull away.

"Wait, wait right here," I squeeze their hand before going to search the grounds. The bite causes me to limp, but I can still walk, a blessing in its own right. I find a broken spear, one without its blade. Making my way back I give it to Edrick, pressing it to his palm and folding his large fingers around it. He takes it in his hands.

"What is this. . .?"

"To help you feel your way. Tapping the cobbles with the staff to make sure the space is safe to tread."

I take his free paw, to kiss his knuckles, "And I shall be your eyes." Edricks tufted ears are up and alert. I struggle to bend down and reach for the dagger at my feet, resting at the fountain to cut my sleeve into ribbons.

"You have changed," Edrick said softly. "You have always been clever, ever since we were children, but where is the coquette I once knew?" I took a deep breath, and hesitated on what to say.

"For a long time I was convinced I had lost you." The dots of white that marked his brows knit together. I nervously put my arms past his great head, softly tying the makeshift bandage around his poor eyes.

"The past fears I had," I run my hand up and down his arm as I spoke. "Pales in comparison to these last months, and if we make it out alive. . . I will carry you myself to the chapel." Edrick grins at that, ferocious teeth pulled back. It makes me tense, but I refuse to let go of him. "Then let us see to that quickly my love, I can already hear those bells… Tell me what I must do."

We may be battered, but we are not yet beaten.

#monster x human #monster x reader #exophilia #wolf monster x human #wolf monster x reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf x human

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atrwriting · 3 months ago

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thinking about stripper reader with old man logan.

he came in every week or so — disheveled outfit and hair. he was older, sure — but not in the way most men his age looked. no — the years didn’t wear on him, but whatever he did that day did. his wrinkles weren’t deep, but the bags under his eyes were. his smile lines weren’t permanent, but the distant look in his eyes was. his bones didn’t crack because they were old, but because they were under too much stress. you couldn’t help it — you wanted to take that pain away.

no one wanted to approach him because he seemed to keep to himself — worried he was a creep or something. he was quiet, too — only speaking when he ordered a drink or another after that. he replied in nods or shakes of the head, and his eyes were always on the stage. despite the fact that he tipped well — no one bit.

you were feeling brave that day when you approached him. you kept it simple — black lace teddy, black lace thong, and black heels. hair bouncy with light makeup, hoping to keep the star of the show your eyes and smile. you knew he could see you out of the corner of his eye, and it threatened your confidence — but he had peaked your interest for too long for you to toss and stumble now.

“hey, handsome,” you spoke, keeping your tone light. “need another?”

he didn’t cock his head towards you, keeping his gaze in front. he swirled the small sip of whisky left in his glass, appearing to contemplate your question. after a moment, he responded, “dancers don’t take drink orders, darlin’.”

“no,” you spoke, laughing slightly. you bent at the hips, hoping to be lower than his eye line. “but they don’t when they give private dances — interested?”

“no, thanks.”

his voice was final — and even though you were disappointed, you didn’t want to push it. you stood then, taking a step back. “okay — i’ll send a waitress over.”

after working the room — it was your turn to take one of the side stages. you had your pick of which — but you decided to keep it as far away from the man as possible. if he didn’t want to be bothered, who were you to threaten a good tip? curiosity would not be killing the cat tonight — especially not when there was more money to be made.

a few men had gathered during your set, throwing a few dollar bills here and there as you swung your hips to the music. you had switched into a falls cowboys cheerleader outfit — white shorts, blue top, and white bra. cliche and overdone, but by the look of your tips — you couldn’t care less.

you also couldn’t care less when you noticed a set of eyes on you — the man’s.

he was unashamed in the way he stared at you. he had gotten another round at some point — but wasn’t drinking any of the contents. he simply gripped it tight as he stared at your swaying hips and perfect curves. you bit your lip at the thought of him regretting turning you away, the confidence intoxicating you. before the song ended, you made sure to lock eyes with him — letting you know that this was your stage and your body he was silently and secretly drooling over. when you sent a cheeky wink his way, he shook his head — downing his glass in an instant. you smiled when he stood from his seat, immediately darting for the “vip” lounge in the back that proudly boasted a sign that read “private dances.”

when you made your way into the back room, you were told that a certain someone had specially asked for you. once you made your way back there, you found what you were looking for.

“make me feel young again, darlin’.”

you couldn’t help but smile. he didn’t say it in an insecure way, but in a way that suggested that his day had been too long and too tiring.

“tell me how you like it?”

he didn’t say anything — he just watched you. his eyes never left yours as you flung off your top, exposing your breasts. he drank his entire glass of whisky before you had planted yourself on his thighs. the flesh of your ass was like to pillows, fit for his large hands. he didn’t touch you — but by how hard he gulped, you could tell he wanted to.

“touch me, sugar,” you whispered. “i won’t tell.”

there was hesitation in his eyes, but soon his gaze darkened. restraint had fallen through the cracks, gone and forgotten. was a shame he had already paid for the dance — you would’ve fucked him for free.

now it was time to make it worth his while.

the man beneath you ground your round hips down into his pelvis, groaning at the friction. he hadn’t seen peace or pleasure since never, but it held his facial feature hostage as his nostrils picked up on the scent of your arousal. warm, tangy juices that leaked through the lace in your panties onto the denim of his jeans.

“take off your pants,” you breathed. “i’ll remind you how young you are — if you promise you’ll show me the skill that only comes with age.”

he had you bent over the table, hands behind your back held by his belt. he planted two heavy feet next to each of your ankles, keeping your legs spread and ready for him. his thrusts were hard against the back of your hips as you only had the table’s edge to support you. you felt him repeatedly hit your cervix, wincing at the aggression.

“that’s not the spot, huh, darlin’?” he spat.

you stayed silent — wanting to see how he reacted.

“i can feel it — resistance,” he grunted. “that sweet pussy needs more, doesn’t she?”

his hard, calloused hands rotated your hips so the tip of his cock repeatedly began to smack into the softest and gummiest part of your inner walls. a moan ripped through you like no other — your back arching upwards as your hips desperately tried to meet his thrusts.

“there it is — that’s it, darlin’. come on, fight back.” you could feel the rough skin of his finger tips dig up and into your pelvis, welcoming the pressure. one of his hands moved underneath you — hauling your hips upwards — pressing against your lower abdomen. he could feel the outline of his cock fucking into your womb, stuffing you full. “i can feel how deep you’re takin’ it, darlin’ — pussy so greedy, ain’t she? — always wantin’ more? those young boys just ain’ it? i’ll take care of her, darlin’…”

you were a whining mess beneath him — practically incoherent. he could hear, smell, feel, taste everything you were feeling. he had every part of you in his hands — completely vulnerable to his mercy and touch. and when your hips started to shake — fighting with him and against him — all he could do was force them down as you took his cock. you whined and whine and whinedwhinedwhined for more until the glam makeup began to melt off your face.

the man watched as your body shook for him — him and only him. you found his wrist, holding onto it for dear life as you tired to anchor yourself. the pleasure was too much, causing your head to spin. you could feel the man rub the skin of your ass tenderly, coaxing you into your orgasm. your womb bloomed for him, wanting to suck him dry and never let him go. his groans were animalistic, filling the room as you begged him to fill your pussy. he smacked your ass once, twice, thrice before he pulled out and painted your back with his cum.

once he pulled out, you were still on your stomach on the table as you tried to catch your breath. he bent down to meet your eyes — a youthful glow on his face — before he pressed a kiss to your lips.

“you just ruined men my own age for me.”

“get your things, doll — takin’ you away from here.”

———

depravity - L xoxo lmk what u think ;)

#wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine smut #the wolverine #logan wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan x reader #logan howlett

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redcherrykook · 3 months ago

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──𐙚 spot me instead- gym jealousy request

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content: gymrat!JK x gymrat!reader, jealousy, public sex, bending over, choking, mirror sex, ass-guy JK, unprotected sex, creampie

note from cherry: i hope that didn't disappoint cloud anonie, i know u said he doesn't do anything until they r alone butttt i rlly like this scanrio!!! LMK IF U WANT A DIFF VERSION ILY

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"Yeah good job on that babe, you're getting so much stronger" jungkook says with a broad smile after you just finished your bicep curls, having upped the weight by 2kgs from to weeks ago

"Thanks" you reply, pressing a kiss to his cheek,

He looks around for a second, hoping to see the same man's eyes watching

That guy had been here for almost all your late night sessions, carefully watching you with that burning gaze of his,

Jungkook isn't a stranger to his girl being oggled at, the gains have been showing after all that work

He did keep an eye out for him though, noting to wrap his arm around your waist more often whenever he was also there

His favorite part about always working out with you was your smile after accomplishing a new set of weights or an extra rep,

His second favorite is the sweaty, flushed look on your face and the way your chest rises in the tiny sport bras you'd wear

He teases you too, sometimes omitting the shirt, sometimes flexing even when it wasn't necessary

Without being able to spot the guy this time, jungkook just resumes his chest press, laying down on the angled bench and watching your plump ass move while you walk off to the back, probably searching for an unoccupied smith machine

He smiles to himself, starting his set like he normally would

However, when he comes back up, his jaw immediately clenches

"Hey, i've seen you 'round here. You look pretty strong" the tall, short haired male says to you

Although kook can't hear the words, the imagine of you in the mirror, smiling while looking up to the muscle mass in front of you is enough to ruin his mood

What is that jerk saying to my woman?

"Ah, thanks" you reply, trying to stay polite when you can see the anger boiling inside jungkook from having caught a little glimpse,

His stare is so strong, you can practically invison his tongue pressing the inside of his cheek, or the way his eyes sharpened

"Anyways, mind spotting me pretty?" the guy asks, a smug smile on his face,

You're about to make a face and dismiss him, your boyfriend however, was way faster

"I'm not usually a fan of guys calling me pretty, but i'd love to spot you"

Jungkook's reply has you trying to hold in a laugh, his broad back in your view, blocking you from the flirty guy's gaze

The guy scoffs, "woah, easy there"

Jungkook steps closer, tilting his chin up to him slightly,

The tone of his voice is stern, so much so that it sounds like a warning, and you just know,

you're gonna get to feel his jealousy pounded into your pussy once this guy left

Knowing Jungkook, he wouldn't mind doing it in front of him either

"Listen, you stop eye fucking my wife and we have no problem, if you talk to her one more time, you're not gonna want to come back here"

Embarrassingly enough that is what it takes for the guy to leave without another word,

It is also enough for the wetness between your legs to rise, probably flooding your light blue leggings with a wet spot between your tighs

"God you're so sexy when you're jealous" you tell him, stepping back to be in front of his Cleary pissed of expression,

You slide an arm down his chest, creeping under the hem of his shirt

"Over to the bench, bend over, you need to he reminded who you belong to" he mutters, landing a harsh smack to your ass,

Not in the mood to piss him off even more, you agree, quickly scooting to the bench

With this time of the night, the small apartment gym wouldn't have any visitors to catch you,

Or so you had hoped, the thrill of it clearly overweighing any and all rationality

You're met with your face in the mirror, folded in half over the angled bench,

Jungkook throws his shirt over to the side, slapping your leggings covered ass once more

"These fucking tight, tiny pants are doing nothing to hide what's mine" he groans, his large palms groping at your cheeks before ripping the leggings down to your knees

He licks his lip as you keep watching him through the mirror, his hands massaging at your ass and smacking it after each soft touch

"You're mine understand? This is my ass, my little cunt, you're all mine"

His hand wanders down to your thigh, slipping between them to rub your clothed entrance with his fingers,

"So fucking wet, i knew you'd like this baby, you just love this don't you?" He says, rubbing his thumb against the soaked material of your underwear before also ripping off your panties,

You moan, head falling down on the edge of the bench,

"Keep watching, see who's gonna fuck you this good" he says, his voice breathy and growly as he spanks your ass once more, having already pulled out his heavy, needy cock from his pants

He pumps it a few times, holding eye contact with you in the mirror, slapping his tip against you a few times

You bite your lip softly, small whimpers leaving your lips while your hands clam around the sides of the bench, eyes almost fallen shut from anticipation,

When he does push himself in, he's merciless, hard thrusts rapidly collding with your skin

"Yeah, take this cock baby, mine, my little pussy" he grunts, slapping your ass repeatedly while you try your best to keep watching his face, twisted in pleasure so beautifully

The bench rocks, lewd slapping sounds echoing around the empty gym,

He keeps pounding into you, harshly fucking his possesiveness into you,

All you can do is moan and take it, too good to even beg for mercy,

Suddenly, when Jungkook reaches that sweet spot right, hitting it with every hard thrust of his hips, you're no longer able to keep your head up,

Jungkook is quick to catch on, his tattooed arm making its way to the front, hand grapping your throat and squeezing it tightly

You let out a loud, strangled moan

"Keep watching who's fucking you so good, keep your eyes on me" he mutters, cursing out under his breath,

Your eyes look back over to the mirror, his buff arms flexing with every muscle, large hand wrapped around your throat and his pumped chest glazing with sweat, all on display for you to admire

Both of you are close, chasing after that knot in your lower stomach to finally burst,

The grip on your throat tightens,

"Say it pretty, who's fucking you this good?"

"You! Jungkook! Jungkook" your voice cries out, cheeks flushed and sweaty while your eyes are in constant connection to his proud gaze in the mirror,

"Thats right baby, who does this little cunt belong to?" he asks again, this time, you need to take a second to reply, your orgasm so so close in reach that it's hard to talk when you're filled to the brim with his thick cock hitting every spot,

"Who's tight little pussy is this?" Jungkook repeats, his groans becoming louder inside your ears

"Yours! Yours kook all yours, fuck please please" you begin to beg,

Once he lets out a last single "fuck..mine.." you can feel his cum filling up your walls, coating you in himself,

His thrusts slowing down with your high coming down on you as well,

Both of you pant, he stops moving his hips and presses a couple kisses to your shoulder, then softly up your neck while removing his hand from your throat

"Mhm.. kook that.. fuck" you breath out with an exhausted chuckle, resting your head on the bench

Jungkook laughs too, spreading your soft cheeks to reveal your swollen cunt leaking with his milky cum, lazily dripping down between your legs

"I know baby.. fuck, you're all mine. Gonna take you home and eat you out yeah? Deserve a nice reward after i was so rough on this pretty girl" his finger reaches down to press on your clit, lips already pressing small kisses on your ass before moving his tongue down to taste himself on you

"You can't imagine how much i love you" you say while moaning softly

#redcherrykook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #bts fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff

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cherryspicest · 3 months ago

Text

Silent Desires

BLACKPINK Rosé x Male Reader 13.6k words

It took quite a long time before I managed to finish this. Kinda struggled with the smut part since I'm not really used on writing one and it was my first time. Of course, still learning.

Was also kinda lazy to proofread it since I have no much time left to do it. PC monitor is broken as well.

The house perfectly matched what you imagined back in Indonesia: two stories painted in blue, and visible wood planks on walls. That one alone window on the second floor must be your bedroom. It had curtains so you thought it might be. Black water filled the canals below and it stretched up to four blocks from your right. It wasn’t smelly, but sure was dirty.

The driver helped carry boxes containing your stuff from home, some were heavy and not, and those light ones were under your carry. When you asked him to place it at the front door, he refused and insisted on placing it inside the living room instead. He was taller than you, a visible look of a state man on his face. Usually they’d wear red caps during work like what TV shows would portray.

Amid work, you saw the neighbor on your right took out a black garbage plastic that was twice the size of her width, and she struggled to carry it inside the garbage can. She was slender, had her hair dyed whitish purple, and a hint of Asian in her eyes. She wore a white top with thin black sleeves covering her arms, and denim shorts that exposed her pretty legs. They were mesmerizing. But you didn’t want to look like a creep either. Seeing her glance at you, you waved your hands. Hoping for atleast a smile or a wave back, you didn’t get one. She chose to ignore your greeting as she headed back to her house. Maybe she was blind or her eyes were blurred, so you didn’t take that bad too much. But the feeling of rejection still hits you like a train.

When all boxes were brought inside, the driver returned to his van and waved goodbye before pulling off. Took hours before every item from each box was pulled out, fixed in places and corners. Most furniture was made in tarnished wood. They were elegant.

The sun had started to set, you could see it by the orange clouds and vibrant violet skies outside your window. It was your first sunset in Canada and you loved the scenery. They seemed like perfect wallpapers you'd see on the Internet.

You stepped outside for fresh air and saw the girl at the right house once again. She sat on the doorway stairs, shading below the black roof. She must’ve not seen your greeting awhile ago, it must’ve been an unintentional ignore. You were shy, everyone would do, but in fear of being a loner you chose to overcome it.

A grass field separates your houses, but only a few steps, like thirty or thirty five steps from yours. She kept her composure and watched your presence coming to her property, a toothpick in her mouth. Her eyes behind those specs remained unwelcoming and a lingering bitchiness within.

“Hey there um. . . I’m your new neighbor by the way on your left so I guess it wouldn’t be bad if I introduce myself to you aye?” You began, keeping your tone calm and friendly. Behind you were nervous and shy.

She played with the toothpick with her tongue, moving it from the left to right corner of her mouth. Her eyes gazed into yours and there was silence for seconds. When you tried to talk again, she interrupted you.

“Too bad for you I don’t talk to strangers” She answered with an Australian accent, so she must be an Aussie.

“I mean like at least-“

“I don’t . . . Talk to strangers.” She stood up. She was slightly smaller than you, but she had the height. Walking slowly towards you, you began to step back. “Do I have to repeat it again to you Mister? I don’t have time for these corny things. If you’re a new bird here, keep it that way as long as you don’t bother me.”

“Alright chill” You raised both palms. “I’m sorry for disturbing you Ma’am.”

You began to walk away while she kept her eyes at you, standing firmly, watching you disappear on her property. You must’ve been so lucky to stumble upon a kind of person on your first day. They said Canadians are welcoming and appreciative, but it seemed it was all a scam.

It was a slight struggle to forget that interaction, but soon you’ve moved on. Days continued with cleaning and adjusting to the new surroundings. The town near the village had good amenities and stores to buy goods from, and you realized the currency seemed low, then you also remembered it’s pricey when converted into your currency.

Each day you’d walk past her house, you can’t resist looking for her presence. She was pretty, everyone would agree, some might not, but in your eyes she was, though her attitude said otherwise.

Days continued with no interaction with the neighborhood. A day later it was time for the first day of class. You jumbled through your closet, finding your best outfit. You wore a simple black oversized T-shirt and cargo pants, like your usual outfit when going out on malls with your parents. But it was a weird feeling to wear civilian clothes on normal days of school. In your country they’d require you to wear a uniform in some cases.

The university looked like an old British house. The walls were made in bricks, and pillars were carved in vertical strips, colored in white gloss paint, that held up much of the entrance shade. Students walk past you. They were tall; it was expected.

The first subject was Science, and it took minutes before you could’ve reached your classroom. You had to ask some professors for the room direction, told you to walk 2 floors above, then turn right, saying you’d see a cone bush at the front of the door; which was on the corner near it. As you entered the classroom, you sat on the seat near the window, third row from the blackboard. Shelves stood at the back most of the classroom. Frames of old looking people hanging on the side walls with their names below of their faces. ‘Jonathan’ if you had read some of their names correctly.

It all started with introductions and knowing each other. Some were old students so they had formed a bond already. Learning you were from Asia, they seemed surprised. When you returned to your seat, someone had already sat beside you. His name was James when you asked. He was friendly, his vibe was cool enough to make you feel comfortable to talk.

During break, he had opened up most of the happenings around the school, and some students you need to avoid stumbling into. Sounded like a cliche school scenario, but it’s the states. Three women walked over the corridor, catching most of the students eyes around the area, even the both of you.

“Who are those? They look Asian.”

“Like you, yes” James continued. “That’s Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie. One of the popular girls around the campus, obviously. All of them were sophomores.”

“So they are Asian?”

“I just said it a second ago.” He glanced at you. “There used to be four, until that issue happened. She goddamn disappeared like a rat from a cat.”

“You know what happened?”

“I don’t know man, I ain’t touching other’s shit. But I’ll tell you, she’s hella pretty. That Australian ‘yaur’ and ‘wotah’ would make you impressed if you’ve only reached that time when she was here.”

Once they disappeared on your sights, you both continued your way back to the classroom.

You thought everything seemed to flow smoothly, until you met this group of boys who had entered the classroom late. They didn’t approach nor face you, but the way they gave you those eyes was enough for you to understand; not friendly. You didn’t mind and pretended they didn’t exist. Few hours had passed, Monday class had come to an end, and you and your friend had separate ways at the intersection near the school.

On you walk home, you saw the neighbor girl once again. The sun had set down, but it was not hard to familiarize her face on the dim. She sat on the same spot, a toothpick in her mouth, and wore her thin framed specs. You wanted to ignore her presence but she’s just too attractive to resist, and when she caught your eyes, trying to land a quick glance at her, you just bowed.

As usual, you received nothing but eyes and silence.

Back in your house you finished the first assignments of the day, it was History and Science, so it took much time despite its simple instructions. You heard voices outside your window. You were confused. The moon had shone brightly between dark clouds, and it’s eleven in the night. You peeked over your window and saw a SUV parked in front of your neighbor’s house, its headlights lit. Three women stood and one of them rushed your cold neighbor into a hug. They wore fancy clothes, like in a club or party.

You watched closely and realized they were the same girls you’ve seen back in the corridor. And when they all stepped inside, you finally pulled away. You remembered what James said, the girl who had left their circle and decided to not go to school anymore, and maybe she was that woman who chose to rot in her house instead. Maybe yes, maybe not. Questions lingered in your mind as you packed up your things for tomorrow, then later you found yourself sleeping in your bed.

Tomorrow was the same usual day, but things went sideways when the arrogant looking boy group came to approach you while you scrolled through your phone on your seat.

“Hey man, heard you’re the new rice eater around the campus again huh?” He grinned, his tone sarcastic. “So, how tho?”

“What how?”

“I mean . . . How you get into this school? I don’t remember that it’s easy for people like you to attend here.”

“Ah? By having a brain, I guess?”

He chuckles and looks back at his friends; who were grinning along with him. You reminded yourself to stay low and humble. You wanted to be known on campus, like a popular one, just like how you were known as the “Friendly guy” in your old school. And once you made a big mistake with these morons, it'd put you into a crumpled outcast inside the university.

“Alright, they like your answer rice boy, but I don’t. ” He scoffs, giving light nods. “Here, if you’re trying to act cool and shit here, it won’t work. So don’t start something that people would hate you for. I’m just reminding you boss, not threatening you. As long as you play with the system around here, you’re fine, aye?”

You nodded slowly, though deep inside you’re annoyed; you hated getting into a situation like this. You felt like getting controlled or so what, and for the sake of your positive look from the other people you just agreed to his terms.

James accompanied you most of the school hours. The Math professor was absent today, so you found yourselves sitting on the bench outside, in the park.

“So you met Deandre?” He opened up

“Yeah, he’s the bully in the classroom right?”

“Sort of. Like man, that dude came from a wealthy family so of course his attitude would be obviously like that. You remembered what you saw yesterday?”

“The girls?”

“Yeah those fine ladies, he dated one of them. I don’t remember who, but he did. So yeah, he became more known to the campus until his ego just went” He mimicked a plane with his hand and raised it upwards, making a swooshing sound.

“Well about the girls, you told me that the woman who left was ‘Aussie’ right?” You remembered last night’s event. Jisoo, Jennie and Lisa, they were three, but still unsure. They had given the vibe.

“I guess? She had the accent, so yes. Why?”

“Well I have this neighbor who speaks with that accent as well. She looks cute, and tall. You know these cute girls with specs.”

James scoff, shaking his head. “Nah man, I doubt it’d be Rose. She had left Canada already and maybe returned to her hometown.”

“Yeah, maybe I’m just assuming too much.”

So days continued like this. James has been by your side most of the time, and you met some new friends along the classroom. Clifton, Julia, and Tyrone, that’s where their names are. They were old students who began here three years ago. They had formed bonds already, knowing each other before you could have, but you didn’t mind. Every new bird starts with this.

Yet there were the morons who never stopped bothering you. During breaks, when you’re alone, they’d come and ask for some extra lunch or snack. It’s not a sort of bullying way where they’d punch you suddenly, but more like they’d threaten you when you don’t contribute; telling you they’d frame you up for stealing someone’s snack from their bag. James couldn’t do anything as well, as much as he wanted to help, he knew what this group of dick heads could do if you’d go against them.

Remembering their words, just go with the flow. You’re not some sort of a main character where punching them would turn you into a superstar

As usual, there were no changes with your interactions with the cute neighbor. Every time you’d walk past her house, sometimes you’d see her outside on the usual spot she’d sit in. Exchanging glances on each other, you were used to it, and every day that passed by, having the same usual empty interaction, you began to feel tired of chasing your wanted friendship until you start ignoring her.

One night you walked home late. You stayed in the library for a long time without realizing it. You also didn’t want to skip a gym session, so you worked out around seven in the night, then finished by nine already

You saw her at the front of her property talking to two guys, one stood behind her. They had bandanas around their forehead. They wore baggy denim shorts and some sleeves that had pockets on the chest part, where one pulled a cigarette box out from it. You walked slowly to watch the scenario, it’s strange to see her talk to someone else anyways.

The guy behind grabbed her arm forcefully and she tried to resist but was not deemed enough to match a moron’s strength. The man on the front lit the cigarette in his mouth, a hint of glow in the stick, and right as he came closer he blew smoke at her face. You kept your composure and thought she must owe them something, but then the discomfort in her eyes, pleading for help, left you no choice but to save her.

“Yo leave the girl alone.” You said as you approached, your tone calm. A hint of frustration when they looked at you in unison, despite your neighbor’s arrogant attitude, you felt the sense of needing help in her eyes.

“Who are you, punk?” The white man with the cigarette answered as he faced you, taking another in his cigarette. “Never seen your face around here yet?”

“You don’t need to know who I Am bro, just leave her alone.”

“And what will happen if I don’t?” He slowly clenched his fist, you noticed it. And as he slowly took a step forward, you reached out to your pocket and pulled out the butterfly knife you loved playing with. Their courageous eyes turned hesitant when they noticed, and as you spun and free styled the blade he took a step backwards.

You took a step forward, and they flinched when you feinted them. Just a bunch of dick-heads they were, acting strong but lacking action.

“You’re lucky, woman” The guy who held her arm said as they left the both of you, running across the empty street.

You watched them disappear from the darkness. Your neighbor slowly looked at you. Hoping for some kind thanks or appreciation for saving her life, well you didn’t get it, again.

“I can handle myself, why do you have to butt in.” She hissed and walked back to her house.

“What’s your problem?” You raised your voice. “Thanking is the least thing you can do, why do you have to be this shit ass?”

She ignored your words, shut the door closed, and the lights from her door disappeared. Guess helping her was not the right move to earn her trust. Since the start she was this toxic, she never changed, and to think she’s just alone in this house without anyone visiting her but her friends completely gives the reason. You’re tired of chasing her. She’s not worth it anyways. It’s better to be independent than to chase some person who doesn't give a single shit at you.

In your bedroom, you were about to sleep. Move your circular pillow and unroll the blanket wide. You were still bothered by the past hour scenario and worried they might come back, so you took a quick peek at her house from your curtains. It’s just that you’re worried about some bad things that may happen during the night and who else could know what those assholes have been running in their minds right now.

When you saw the lights from her bedroom shut, you finally laid back and slept the night away.

The next day at the school, a seminar was held at the gymnasium where most students were required to be at the place. Chattering and noises filled the whole gymnasium. You and your new group of friends sat together at the upper box, third row, enough to see the announcer deliver his words from the court floor.

You saw the three ladies once again sitting in the same row as yours. The morons were there as well, staying by their side, one guy carried the short hair’s bag. Were they some sort of servants? No they were not when you saw the guy who threatened you rest his arm around the cat shaped eye girl’s seat. She was fine with it, smiling at him despite the corniest move a guy would do.

Then you met them later again in the corridor as you stepped out from the male’s comfort room. The girls were with them, stood by their side and one behind. Your eyes met Deandre’s, it was full of wickedness, and a smirk forming in his lips.

“Yo rice boy, what’s good? Can help me out for some slight extra money? You know it would be bad if I’m left hungry for the day.” He began. “Just a little you know? I mean not that I have no money, but at least . . . An extra?”

“Sorry bro, I can’t help you with that.” You forced a smile and began to walk out. Then he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, making you stop.

“Come on bro” He softened his voice that only you could hear. “Remember what I said back then? I bet you wouldn’t like the consequences when you don’t provide something, right?”

And there you are, stupid enough to give half of your brought money in your wallet. Following the system, the same thing that runs in your mind over and over again for the sake of your dream popularity. Nice guy in a jean jacket, that’s what you wanted. Their eyes locked on you while you walked out, keeping your friendly vibe despite the anger boiling inside you.

Days turned into weeks, and you received the same usual treatment from them all over and over again. You just seemed to be these morons play toy. Every time you’d walk back home, it’s always frustration that you’d bring, that you just wanted to beat them until they begged crying on the floor. If it weren’t for your scholarship that required you to behave and act like a chained goat around crocodiles, then you would have shown those morons what they deserved.

As well, you continued to ignore your ‘appreciating’ attitude neighbor. Between those days, you were used to it, and then you felt it’s something normal you’d do. Until one day, while walking back home, she approached you with crossed arms in the middle of the street. The sun had started to set down on the thick, dark clouds like it’s clinging on its own. She wore a simple black shirt and denim shorts.

She pulled out a few money bills from her pocket and reached it at you. “Here.”

“For what? ”

“For saving me last week.”

“No need, thank you anyway.” You began to walk.

“I’m just returning what I owe you.” She continued, and you paused.

“I don’t look like money, Miss. I just did what a normal person would do—help somebody who’s in distress. I didn’t do that to impress and such. Just take your money.”

“Every Monday, you’d walk past my house between five and six in the afternoon. Then, all of a sudden, you appeared nowhere on the street at nine? ”

“And you’re assuming I'm stalking you? ”

“I didn’t say anything, boy?”

You groaned. “You know what? A simple thank you will end this conversation instead. Besides, I won’t even have a conversation with someone like you anyway.”

“Hm? Thank you, my neighbor superhero; that’s what you want to hear, right? ”She forced a smile, narrowing her eyes. “Plus, why do you even want to be friends with me in the first place? You boys are just the same. Tell me you’d be friends with me, then I get comfortable with you, let you inside my house, and then we wait to invite each other to fuck in each other’s mouths in my bedroom. That’s your plan, isn't it? ”

You scoffed. “This woman is ridiculous.”

“Don’t act blurry, Y/N. You guys have the same minds when it comes to meeting girls.” She tilts her head, keeping her gaze. Though she’s pretty and her pair of alluringly slender legs, it never came to your mind to fuck her somewhere else around.

“Alright, you're generalizing too much. Look Miss, I just want to be friendly to the people around me. You’re my neighbor ma’am. The lot on my left is empty, and you’re the only person I could talk to around this place. Isn’t that hard to understand?” You answered. “And, did you just call me by my name?”

She kept her composure, not even saying a single word.

“See, I must be right, you are friends with the famous girls in the university. That night, I saw three girls visit you in your house. There are three as well in the school: Lisa, Jennie, Jisoo, and you’re probably the Rose that James was talking about.”

“So what?”

“So what? It means that you’re just one of them. A bunch of assholes that make fun of students not popular as you all do, and abuse their souls out just because they don’t fight back.”

“Oh, I’m an asshole now?” She took a step forward and landed a push on your chest. “Talk shit at me if you don’t put your ass down when Deandre is around you.”

“I ain’t a coward around him, don’t you dare call me that.” You pointed at her.

“Then what do you call yourself then?”

“I’m doing it on purpose. I just want . . . “ You cut yourself off. Opening up your dream of being a popular boy in the university will just ruin your image more at her. “I’m doing it for my scholarship. You think I’d still be here if I punched him in the ground?”

“A scholar?’ She scoffed and glanced around her surroundings. “Poor for you, you have to endure that. So don’t cry on me that you’re experiencing those. You chose this University, face the consequences then.”

She might sound aggressive, but some of her words were right. Her last phrase ‘ you chose this university and face the consequence ‘ hit you. You wanted to experience life in the west because you saw how most of your relatives seemed to enjoy their lives here. Luxurious sedans, modern houses, that’s what you saw most in their pictures. Then you wished to apply your school experience here from your hometown thinking it’d just be the same.

You had mixed feelings with your encounter with Rose; disappointment and excitement. She was fierce and straightforward. Up close, you wouldn’t expect such an attitude from her gorgeous visuals. You wondered if she had a boyfriend, or probably no one would even wonder with her arrogant attitude.

She was annoyingly attractive.

The next day, it was Saturday, so you had no classes. You finished all your assignments right away before so you wouldn’t worry about chasing papers to your professors. You went for a jog around the village, no streets were missed to walk into. Most houses were colored assorted but had the same design as yours and Rose’s.

Finishing your lap, you walk past Rose’s house and see her garage door lifted open. It wasn’t hard to see her in the dim, and when you got close, just under the garage door, you saw her fixing a vehicle’s engine. The car was purple, you could tell beneath those dusts, and looked like a mustang built from 80’s

Black stains marked her arms and gray shirt. She wore baggy pants and a cap, her pony tail squeezed between the cap’s closure. She noticed your shadow from the floor and quickly looked back with her wrench pointed at you.

“What are you doing?” She asked in a warning tone. There was visible tiredness within her eyes.

“Are you trying to fix your alternator?”

“Why do you care?”

“Maybe I can lend some hand for you, I missed doing mechanical work, especially with cars and stuff.” You leaned against the wall, crossing your arms.

“I don’t need.” She turned back and continued her hands on the engine. You just watched her, she said no and you wouldn’t want to be an annoying fly that would force yourself into her.

Several seconds later, there was a spark and she squealed, pulling her arms away quickly and moving from a distance. Her eyes slowly looked at you, her face fresh from shock.

“You just made the scenario worse.” You stepped in and took a look at her engine, where you noticed a red wire with little smoke in it. “Worse thing is, you’re trying to check every wire in here when this red wire has visible tears on it.”

“What are you saying?” She gave you a look as if you’re saying bullshit, still standing at the same spot.

“Your alternator is shorted. So you might need to get yourself a new wire for this.”

She slowly took her steps closer and stood beside you, picking the red wire where the smoke had fully disappeared. She watched it close, then her eyes shut as a sigh escaped her mouth.

“You can buy some wires there in town. Just gotta tell the staff there this and that and you’re good.” You began to walk away

“Shit.” She groaned, then turned to look at you. There was frustration in her tone. “Alright, can you do me a favor?”

“Favor? I thought you didn't need my help?”

“Come on, please don’t be dick head for now.” She hisses.

“I’m now the dick head between us now huh? After talking shit at me yesterday?”

“Y/n!” She widened her eyes, warning you.

“Now, you’re turning the tables again” You scoff, then reach your palm at her. “Money.”

“I don’t have cash right now.” She dug her hands in her pockets. “I’ll just pay you in some way, Just-“ She groaned. “ Buy me the wire for now.”

Well, you couldn’t resist her. She had this sort of lack of temper management, maybe only to you or to everybody, but yet you still find it attractive and hot. The wire shouldn’t cost much of your cash so you agreed with her request.

It only took around ten minutes to find the exact wire from mechanic shops and later you arrived back at her house. The wire cost two and a half dollars. You bought two in case things went sideways, you knew how Rose would obviously act if it did so.

“You sure this is it?” She looked up at you.

“Yeah. I told him my boss would kick me out of the house if he gave me the wrong one.”

She chuckles, it was your first time seeing a smile form in her lips and it was beautiful. You hoped you’d see more of it. You began to step out of her garage again and her face became intrigued,

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“Home, why?”

“Did I tell you to?”

Your brows furrowed. “Are you my mommy or something?”

“No, but you can’t just leave right away.”

“Why not?”

She tilts her head, resting a hand over the car’s grills. “So you can just walk away from your asshole neighbor that easily?”

“Probably yeah, I hate assholes.” You grinned and she turned her back at you, continuing her hands on the car. You heard her talking with her head ducked inside the engine.

“Alright, stick with your decision then. ”

You left out a quick chuckle at her before you walked away from her garage. The sun had shown a great promise above the skies where you wanted to get off right away under its burning rays. Before you would have reached the tree near your house you heard Rose make a loud “ow” that sounded like a moan and groan at the same time. It sounded good, you didn’t deny. There was this sort of excitement inside you when you heard it, but still it’s just bad.

You ran back then found her at the same spot, her head still ducked in the car’s engine, and when she noticed your shadow she slowly looked back.

“What happened?” You asked worriedly.

“Why are you here?”

“I heard you just yell or so and I thought that something happened to you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to help me.”

You glanced away. “Human instinct bro. I mean come on, even a stray ass dog will come here when you yell like that. So what happened?”

She smirked and shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe I hit my head? Lost a finger, popped my eyeballs out.”

“What the hell is that answer?”

She rolled her eyes and threw the wrench at your front. “I obviously need help, asshole. Why the hard to get behavior?”

“I’m not.” You picked up the wrench and slowly stepped into her garage once again. “It’s you who’s doing it. Acting arrogant the whole time then turns into a little pup when things go down.”

She pushed your arm and it left a black stain on your gray tee. “Yah? Calling me a little pup as if you’re not one as well in your school, huh?”

“I’m just doing it for the sake of my scholarship and dream popular-“ You quickly stopped when you realized you slipped off your greatest secret, but it seemed too late already you saw her eyebrows raised and she chuckled.

“Popularity? So you want to be a popular guy huh?” She covered her mouth, and you watched her giggle in amusement. “This dude what the hell?”

“Alright, laugh all you want.”

She continued laughing at you, placing continuous taps over her car. You felt embarrassed that you wanted to squeeze yourself into a tin can, never to be found again. Was this a turn off? Nevertheless, you began fixing and removing the old wires of the alternator of her car, making yourself busy at least.

“Yeah yeah.” She finally uncovered and heard her sniff. “Fucking hilarious, that is something that a nerd guy would dream in a high school musical. Damn boy, I never thought you’d be funny” She stood beside and noticed your silence. “Wait, so you’re not joking?”

When you didn’t answer, she placed another push on the same spot, turning the stain even darker.

“Don’t make a fool of yourself, Y/n.” She said between chuckles. “Tell me that you need bitches without actually telling me you need bitches.”

“Hey?” You paused while ducking in. “That’s not the point why I want to be. To be honest, I don’t need one.” You lied. Though you wanted one, maybe someone like her or either herself. She gives this bitch vibe who’d you call ‘mommy’ and kneel upon while she verbally or physically abuses you. She’s hot as hell.

“And that’s something a bitchless guy would say in a girl so he’d feel like ‘I’m manly and tough, I don’t need girls in my life because they’re bunch of useless beings’ “

You tapped the battery with the wrench, sounding a ‘ting’, and you stood straight. “You know what, I’m done. Fix it yourself.”

“Oh no, baby boy is crying again.” She made a mocking sad face. “Did I hurt his feelings again?”

“It’s just annoying that you’d always make me look like I’m some weak ass shit who couldn’t do anything.”

“I did not say you are, and plus I’m just stating the facts based on my experiences.” She snatched the wrench out from your right hand, then moved closer at you.”They’d tell me the same sentences all over again thinking they’ll impress me.” She squints her eyes, tilting her head. Her hair brushing over your hand. “But guess who’s falling into their knees at the end? Calling me ‘Mommy’ while I ruin their mental shits out and even with those they’d still always look for it.” Her voice became soft, a lingering mischief within her tone. “Seems like I’m pretty irresistible right?”

You were frozen, and at the same time you’re lowkey enjoying the moment with her hidden side.

“Why aren’t you answering, you know I hate these kinds of people who leave me hanging.” She added while she kept her eyes locked on yours.

You shook your head to snap yourself back to reality, you were falling into her trap or some sort of hypnotism. She’s too alluring, every second you’d feel something pulling you into placing your lips on hers.

“Whatever, I’ll just finish this” You ducked back below the hood, continuing your hands on the wires. “I still have a meeting later.”

She scoffed. “It’s Saturday dumb ass.”

“Meeting isn’t always related to school.”

“As if I knew it?”

So you stayed by her side most of the day, fixed her broken mustang’s alternator, then had small conversations with her. You were getting dirty every hour. The amount of dust, dried oil stains and burnt ashes all over, but you didn’t care anyways. She had treated you to lunch, surprisingly for her, and you’re starting to see her bright personality on every hour that passes by. You thought James lied.

When you got some water inside her house, you saw notebooks and pens on her desk and the lamp light lit open. Most books had your university’s name on it. A brown acoustic guitar with a capo stood beside the desk. She plays instruments? Damn she’s just attractive.

Finally, you had replaced all the broken wires with new ones and when you told her to start it up, the mustang came into life, roaring while the engine shook within the rhythm. She squealed in happiness. You saw her covering her mouth from the windshield while she enjoyed the view inside like a kid who sat in a Lamborghini for the first time of her life.

You stepped a few steps backward and enjoyed the view of her car that was revived from the dead. You let out a relieved sigh. You watched her step out from her car as she approached you with a light smile on her lips; now this seems sincere rather than a forced one.

“Ko-ma-wo”

“Uh, what?”

“It’s thank you in Korean.’ She answers.

“Oh” You hesitated for a second, then gave her a quick bow despite looking stupid because you knew that’s what most Koreans do when receiving thanks. “No problem.”

“As I told you a while ago that I’m pretty cashless right now, I don’t know how I would pay you.”

There were a lot of thoughts running in your mind, and obviously they were what a guy would like for a hot girl to do: free sex, having her knees down at the floor while she devours your cock, maybe a dog style on the garage, or maybe be his boyfriend. But you were educated, not some punk ass dude who’d treat them like objects. You knew the boundaries, so instead you just kept it to yourself.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to. I enjoyed fixing your car anyways, so it’s more of my own liking rather than a forced work.”

“Well . . . I don’t think I can agree with that.” She looked skeptical. “I just don’t feel like living in a world knowing I’m indebted to someone.”

“It’s fine, Rose. I volunteered, so I don’t really need you to feel indebted just because of that. I told you myself, I don’t need it.” You emphasized the final three words, hoping she’d finally agree with your request. But it was not a request either. You’d call it a consolation thanking because she finally talked to you properly without being a bitch.

She sighed, her eyes closing while she looked down. Both of you were outside the garage, but still under the lifted door that covered you from the blazing heat.

“I’ll think about how I would pay you. But for now, thank you for your help.” She nodded lightly. The smile was still light.

“Alright, I’ll see you again.” You smiled back. “Take a shower already, you don’t wanna stink and get seen dirty by the neighborhood.”

“Yah? Even if I’m dirty like a beggar, I won’t stink.”

“Of course, you’d tell me that.”

So another point for your memorable interaction with the neighbor. She is Rose. You’d call her with that from this point. You remembered that moment where she was very close to you. And right, you were stiffing and yet you had to make yourself looked calm as possible because you didn’t want to look so weak and soft either. That voice while she tells how most of his boys called her ‘mommy’, was enough to make you gulp alone in your bed while leaning against the bed board with the blanket covering the lower part of your body.

One final check on her wouldn’t hurt, so you did peek over the window—saw the lights shut on her bedroom—then laid back to your bed, thanking god for a great Saturday.

Sunday ran past as there wasn’t something to do. You just stayed up inside the house, fixed some things and arranged your items that didn’t need to be arranged, and yet you still did. After a while Monday has come so you’re back to reality. Faced with numerous seat works and homeworks, you were buzzed—but then you remembered you had inspiration—Rose. James never knew about her being your neighbor and decided to keep it first to yourself. She might not want others to know her presence and as you knew James thought she had left Canada.

Deandre and the gang were like hornets that had their hive touched by you, they just won’t leave and disappear at least for a day until they sucked out your resources. Most will be depressed, but you were smart—bought a pack of cheap cookies that only cost around five to seven dollars, and you bring one extra every single day for him. Perfect timing, that’s all what it takes—but not now.

You washed your face in the comfort room. The water cold, it was refreshing. You were alone in the room and there was peace at least after a long day merging with crowds in the corridor and the room. The running water from the faucet. When you stepped outside, pulled the door open, a woman stood at the front leaning against the opposite wall. Her eyes on the left corridor and travels towards you once she has noticed your presence out. She had a good set of eyes—more of like a cat shaped and you realized then she was one of Rose’s friends.

“Oh there you are.” She smiled. “So I think you’ve seen me already, probably.”

“Deandre’s girlfriend?” You didn’t hesitate. She was that girl on the court where his arms were around her seat. Was she this? Maybe not, but would it make any difference?

She chuckled, covering her mouth. “Not really. How do you say so, Mr. New face?”

“Well, I just assumed? Just how he’d bring you with him taxing me for some shit everytime in the corridor?”

Her chuckles sounded so expensive that you’d wish to hear it for an hour straight. And with that pretty fierce cat face, every boy would fall for it.

“You're more confident than I thought so.” She smirked. “But anyways I’ll just get straight to the point why I’m here. It wouldn’t really sound good if rumors start to spread when that one popular girl is seen talking to a new bird like you right in front of the male’s restroom.”

“Yeah, they might think—“

“I gave you a head or such.” She interrupts you like she knew what was running inside your head. Never thought she’d be open minded. “So, do you drink or not?”

“Well . . . Sort of? Only at reasonable events and parties.”

She pulls out a card that was entirely white and blank. “Tomorrow, 10 pm in my house.”

“What’s happening? And what am I supposed to do with a blank card.”

“Show that to my guard at the front gate, and it’s a party.”

“Is this a dream or something? Are you really inviting a guy who you have never met before?”

“Well I met you right now, plus it’s more of a friend’s request rather than my own. So are you going, or are you wasting the once in a lifetime chance?”

You were hesitating while her eyes were locked at you, waiting for an answer. But then, she’s right there in front and you wouldn’t want to make herself disappointed. At Least not waste her time inviting you just for you to say ‘no’.

“Alright, I’ll be there.”

Her eyebrows lifted and a closed smile appeared in her lips. “Okay great! Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Toodles.” She walks out, maintaining eye contact for a while while she waves her hand at you. She walks sassy—not in a way she’d wiggle her butt at every step—but more of reminding everyone that the prettiest is passing by. Almost nearing the class shift, it was time for you to head back to the room.

At the final break shift, you opened up the party invite to your friends. They were surprised, obviously. Not even expecting such a popular girl to come right in front of the comfort room to reach out for a party invite.

“Jennie herself?” Clifton freaked softly that only the four of you could see.

“Yeah, she reached me out this blank ass paper”

Your friends studied the paper. There was just nothing, even you could think she’s just fooling out of you. Was she? Yes or no. She doesn’t seem to be the type of person. If she did make a fool out of you—can you even complain?

“Probably invisible ink” Julia says while she tilts it back and forth. “Just not some ordinary paper card you’d cut out”

“Well what’s your plan then?” James asks. “Can you bring friends?”

You place your hand over your face. “Fuck, I forgot to ask. But do you think I can?”

“I’d say not, blud.” Tyrone answers while he pulls his bag from the floor, placing it behind his back. “Those girls are just picky with the people they’re encountering. You're one lucky bastard.”

“How did you make her invite you?” James asks, his tone filled with confusion and curiosity. “As if you’ve done nothing and suddenly that girl just came looking for you . . . Right in the toilet? Pretty bullshit. ”

You shrug shoulders. “I don’t know. Ask her yourself. You know like when the nerd guy in a K Drama suddenly gets the popular girl’s heart?”

James swung his hand. “That’s some bullshit, you ain’t in a fantasy world bro.”

“Like I have the courage to talk to her in the first place?” says You.

“Anyways, goodluck.” Julia raises her thumb. “You have the GC to chat on. If you need help, we'll be there.”

“Thank you fellas.” You smile. Having these kinds of friends is like hitting a jackpot in a slot machine. Only the four of you, even though it might sound little, it was fine rather than a bunch of plastic backstabbers.

Back home it’s the usual routine: gym and cardio. Finished by ten in the night and it was your most late one. You had eaten a set of combo meals in a fast food chain, and it felt like carrying a baby in your tummy as you walked a kilometer.

You saw Rose outside, carrying another garbage bag to be thrown in the can at the front. When she noticed your presence on the street, a light smile formed in her lips, and of course you couldn’t help but smile back. She had a toothpick in her mouth—again.

“Late night junk works.” You began and she chuckled while she pulled the toothpick out from her mouth.

“Late night walk back home.”

“Quite a struggle to find a bus back to this town,” says You.

She pushes the lid down. “Poor you. Why? Was the date so good?”

“Date? What do you mean?”

She raises her brows. Her eyes darted everywhere but you. “Date with your girl or so . . . “

“My girl?” You scoff. “Where did you get that?”

“ I — “ Her eyes finally met yours, and the feeling was different. You could feel it. “—I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking?” She rolls her eyes. “Such an asshole.”

“Well that wasn’t a question tho?”

She sighs, her eyes closing. You loved poking her with your unnecessary follow ups, and seeing her get annoyed feels satisfying— it’s like poking your cold crush back in elementary. You still did remember it. Well, Rose is your crush, sort of? And since silence seemed to follow your words, you decide to add things more.

“I went to the gym, never realized my rest was too long until I noticed the clock, then I decided to eat outside, and here I’am.”

She nods lightly. Her mouth forming an ‘o’ then looks away. “Well, stupid you.”

“Yeah stupid me.” You chuckle, and you find yourself forcing a smile. She’s not even looking anyways so it’s fine. “Anyways, I’ll head home now. I have to rest. You should too.”

She tucks a few strands of her hair behind her ear, then gives a light nod. “Still have things to do. I ain’t like a baby kid like you who needs to sleep early.”

“Well you’re a baby as well: Baby attitude.”

She rolls her eyes; her face shows disgust. “As if I cry when I get real-talked?”

You resume your steps and pretend you don’t really listen to her words at all. Of course, she’d open that up over and over again, and she’ll always find a way to counter you. “Whatever, goodnight.”

“Yeah that’s right, walk away idiot.” She raises her voice, but not that loud for the whole neighborhood to hear. It was only meant for you. “He really always gets on my nerves. But, he’s goddamn kind at the same time. Fuck this, Roseanne.” She whispers to herself while she watches you in the distance. Then later, she heads back inside as well.

Struggling to pick whether a stylish or a casual one, you still ended up choosing nothing. And not because they were your favorites, but because you were overthinking what people like them would wear on house parties. You laid back to your bed and watched the ceiling. What are you even supposed to do now? Countless questions appear every second in your head, and then you start to feel sleepy afterwards, until you drift into paradise.

Tomorrow was just a regular school day. Finished papers and passed them to the professor, hanging out with friends during break, then later on it was wrapping up. Your friends remind you to at least enjoy and behave at the same time; you didn’t know what was about to come later as well. It was around eight and a half night when you got to your house, and surprisingly, Rose was nowhere to be found outside. Maybe she’s busy.

A black loose shirt with spread collar and khaki pants was your choice. It is stylish and comfortable at the same time, making it the perfect outfit for a whole night run with strangers. Assignments and projects were not something to be worried about, as you finished them earlier at the school during break hours. So, you’re currently stress-free—almost. And the only thing to stress right now is the later’s event.

At the front of your house, you begin to book for an Uber. You know it’s costly —as if you have any other choice for it. Tapping the book button, you realized you missed a field to answer, and it’s the drop off location. Shit, you forgot to ask her, and Jennie never said the location either. The paper was blank, so you’re left clueless.

A headlight shone at your spot from the right. You cannot see who’s car it was, but it’s annoying you. Its engine roared when it accelerated, sounding like an old car. As it parked at your front, you realized it was Rose’s, and you saw her when she rolled the windows down.

“Get in.” She began. Her tone sounds like she’s been doing this for years to you.

“Well, I have a party tonight and—“

“And you think we’re not going to the same place either?” She tilts her head and checks her watch. “Almost ten pookie, you don’t wanna miss the party.”

What a savior. Even if she was an annoying neighbor, she was there to help you at the exact time you needed one. She was hot, and her outfit made her more. A black fishnet long sleeves that revealed more of her skin beneath while wearing a black crop top inside. She also wore denim shorts—as usual. This was the most alluring outfit you have seen from her throughout the time that you didn’t even realize you were staring at her throughout the time she was talking.

“Yah!” She raised her voice, snapping you back to reality. She tilts her head with a face that reminds you she was talking.

“Oh sorry.” You shook your head. “I’m just really flaky right now. Finished some assignments and stuff, yeah?”

“Ah, weird for me to tell Jennie to invite a nerd for a party.” She scoffed.

“Do a nerd even wear like this, huh?” You show off your clothes.

“And I didn’t know you could wear something nice at least.”

“Alright, sure. So you picked me up just to insult me again?”

“Just stating the facts.” Her lips form a smirk as she moves her hand over the gear knob. “Seatbelt, Mr. Crybaby.”

You shook your head in annoyance; there’s no absolute counter to her at all. Well there was, but you’re in her car, so as if you have the courage to speak shit at her. Once she heard the click from your seat belt lock, she accelerated the car; hard enough to push you back to your seat.

Throughout the ride, you and her shared a few conversations. Watching the lights across the town, it was amazing. The car ride vibe was entirely different compared back to your home country. You’d describe it way more peacefully by the few cars that came from the opposite lane.

Shortly later, she parked her car behind a black SUV. When she told you this was her place, you stepped out and stretched your arms. The walls were perfectly trimmed bushes that were almost thrice the size of your height, it was funny. Several parked cars lined up in the same direction where Rose’s car was, and most were luxurious ones, ranging from Chevrolet’s to Mercedes’s.

She guided you inside, where you saw how wide the place was. At first, you thought it was some event place or house. But when Rose told you this was Jennie’s, it gave you another reason to believe your friend’s words that messing with them is the biggest mistake you'd make.

The guard let you both in when he inspected your invitation cards with a small blue lighted flashlight. He was well built. The clothes shaped his width, reminding the ones who would want to trespass her place. Inside the house, it was slightly dim, and it gave a sort of club vibe where you have to walk through darkness before seeing the lights. Well you did, but instead, it was a living room with some people around. The lights were pinkish red. Few people were on the second floor while some leaned against the railings.

“Rosie!” The short haired girl approached her. She was tall and was one of the three popular girls. “I like your outfit, so freaking bad.”

“Do you really have to glaze me that much, Lisa?” Rose grins while she holds her hand. Lisa’s eyes slowly land on you as her eyebrows raise.

“So, who’s this new face you’ve brought tonight?” asks Lisa.

Rose looks at you, and while she says her words, she keeps her eyes at you for a while before looking back at her. “A kind guy who helped me fix my Mustang last week in my garage.”

“Oh, so we’re bringing strangers now?” Lisa looks at her while she lands a few glances at you.

You felt Rose’s hands around your arm, and her thumb began rubbing shapes in your skin. “Darling, you really think I’m just bringing strangers here? Of course, you know the obvious."

Lisa’s expression turned bright as she nodded several times, knowing the answer through Rose’s actions at you. “You’re starting to keep stories from now, huh.” She pokes Rose. You didn’t even expect Lisa to reach her hands at you. “Lisa, by the way.”

“Y/n.” You accepted the hand offer. A judgmental person, that seemed what she is, and the courage she had to call you a stranger in front of you was bewildering. Good thing, Rose managed to play it off smoothly, and you didn’t expect her to save you at all, knowing she’s an asshole towards you.

When Lisa walks away, you look at her. “Why did you save me?”

“I’m not entirely an asshole to embarrass a person who helped me as well,” says her as she meets your eyes. “Come, I’ll let you meet my friends.”

“Shit, that would be too embarrassing.” You slightly pull away.

“I thought you wanted to be popular?”

“I do.”

“And I’m giving you the chance, yet you’re here with your baby attitude again.”

“Shit.” You sigh, resting your hand on your hips while you try to gather your courage to face such students like them.

“Tonight, you’d be known as my boyfriend, and they won’t do shit about it.”

“You’re my girlfriend?” You raised your brows. “How I wished to be.”

She tilts her head as her eyes narrow. “Just for tonight, idiot.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah, keep wishing. As if I’d boyfriend someone like you.” She rolls her eyes and starts to pull your hand with her. “Come on, no time to waste.”

Yeah, rejected as usual. You were just playing with it; you intended to act sad, but still it was quite painful to hear such rejection. She led you to a couch where her friends sat, and you saw a person that's always ruining your mood every time you see him. Deandre, he was there, at the couch sitting beside Jennie. And as Rose feels your sudden step aback, she grabs your wrist.

“If I say you touch me, you will touch me.” She softly says while both of you approach. “No but’s and if’s.”

“Hey, baby.” Jennie stands and approaches her, kissing cheeks. “Quit late, huh?”

“Sorry darling, my boyfriend is quite a snail-head in times of events like this.” She grins, looking at you.

“What a surprise, Y/n,” says Jennie. “You didn’t even tell me yesterday that our Rosie is your girlfriend already. Quite a mysterious transferee, huh?”

“Uh,” You stutter, and when Rose notices your awkward act, she warns you with her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep it lowkey, I guess.”

“Ah lowkey.” Jennie lightly nods and nudges your arm. “I understand, you know. Rose is quite a popular one in school, and I assume you’d hate rumors when they realize you’re a transferee.”

“Yo Jennie, why invite an outcast here?” His voice. Once again, you heard it, and it’s enough to ruin your mood. “Guess you got the wrong person. I don’t think he’d enjoy the party by reaching out for glasses and serving us like a waiter some shit.” You heard his friends share chuckles and laughs.

“Deandre, what a fucker.” She whispers, rolling her eyes. She was still facing you.

“Babe,” says Rose, enough for Deandre’s whole friends to hear. “Come sit beside me, I’m missing your touches quite fast already.”

So she called you babe, and hearing it was enough to make you blush deep inside. You’re just both acting. You reminded yourself, and this isn’t the best time to dwell into your feelings. You followed her request and sat beside her. As you sat, she rested her right leg over your thigh, and snuggled against you.

All of their eyes, even Deandre’s, were on both of you. They were silent, some looked away and pretended like they didn’t laugh at his joke. Rose enjoyed the view on their faces.

“Touch me, now.” She whispered while keeping an eye on them.”

And gently, you did. You placed your hand over her thigh and caressed it gently, enjoying every inch of her skin. It was smooth and soft. You could stay up the whole day doing this over and over again, and not get tired.

Deandre was silent. Within those smirks and scoffs in his lips hides the embarrassment he feels towards the both of you.

“At Least he could pull Rosie than you could do.” Jisoo teases. She was sitting on the right couch.

“She just had no one to bring, trust me.” Deandre answered back.

“Not really, Drei. We both know I could bring any handsome guy in the school with a simple hi, right?” says Rose. “Just tell me you’re being a crybaby because you were not the one with me tonight.” She looks up at you; your faces are a few inches apart. “Right, babe?”

You were getting flustered, but it’s all just a plan, remember? Everything is fake.

“Yeah, yeah.” You forced a smile.

“Aww come on. What’s with those simple answers?” Rose pouts. “You don’t love me?”

“Ah, of course I do love you so much.” You took the courage to caress her cheeks, down to her neck. “You’re so gorgeous tonight.”

Then, you felt her hand over your chest, where she unbuttons one, caressing the same ways as yours.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She says between.

Your said so ‘cuddles’ was enough to shut Deandre’s mouth more. Another scoff from him, then a word never came out of his mouth again. He only watched both of you share cheeky moments together. His friends shut quiet, acting normal, some were on their phones. Deandre’s dogs, that’s what they are.

The heat between the three of you has finally cooled down, they were avoiding their eyes on you, while Deandre would place glances sometimes. Jennie came back to the table with bottles on both hands: a whiskey and gin. Shit, liquors, it’s been awhile. You had the last of those during the post-prom night event, where you stayed with close friends, drank all night; not even caring about your haggard looks.

All part of new friendship—you wanted this. Jennie insisted on pouring the liquor on your shot glass. You didn’t expect her to be this kind. You assumed she’s a two sided woman.

It was bitter, felt your throat burn as the liquid passed down. You hid your uncomfort through closing your eyes and swallowing hard, while looking emotionless. It’s a tough battle. Shortly after a few shots, your body seems to condition the liquors, until you realize you’re starting to drink it normally.

Looking at Rose, she’s hell of gorgeous. The way she sat, both legs over the sofa, her whitish purple hair free on her left shoulder while she rested her left hand on the cushion—was a sight to enjoy. Beneath those fishnet sleeves teases her curves and smooth skin. The world seemed to slow down, it was just her you see. As the pink light colors her face, there was the sense of allure and attraction within your heart.

You excused yourself for a bathroom break, they didn’t seem to care, so you went right away. Splashed cold water on your face from the faucet, that was it—you just wanted a refreshment. The bathroom luxurious. As you stepped out, you had to pass by several couples who were making out on the wall.

Back at the table, Rose had become quite more flirtatious. She was getting drunk; Jennie told you, and the fact that it was your first time seeing her act like this was a changing experience. So you just let her be. It’s only a plan, something not to be serious about, and within her touches and snuggles lies nothing but falseness and showing off to people—she’s just helping you, remember. She’d never be your girlfriend. Smiles and laughter surrounded you, and you were just here forcing yours.

You had decided to take fresh air outside Jennie’s place, right at Rose’s mustang. The sight was relaxing, though it’s nothing but a grass field. You stayed under a tree beside her car. The crescent moon shone between dark clouds, and there were the stars.

You were drunk; you knew that, and as you shook your head more makes your vision get fuzzier—it was funny.

You heard crunches of soil near you, and behind you saw Rose approaching. She walked playfully, swinging her arms freely. “Hey baby.”

“Stop that.” You forced a grin.

“Why? Don’t you love it when I call you that?”

You walked towards her car, and leaned against the hood. “No.”

“No your ass, bitch.” She stood beside you and playfully pushed your arm using her body. “What are you even doing here?”

“Taking fresh air.”

She giggles and covers her mouth. “Just tell me you’re not used to crowds.”

“I’m used to it,” says you, “I’m just exhausted.”

“Ah.” She lightly nodded, and there was silence. It’s quite comfortable to have moments like this with her alone in a quiet night—wished you’d have another of this soon after. Soon enough, you didn’t notice she was looking at you until you glanced at her.

“I like your outfit.” She smiles lightly. “Not being an asshole, but it’s really nice.”

You were flustered. “Thanks . . . I just save this kind of clothes for times like this. But you know what’s nicer?”

“What?”

“If I don’t have these on.”

You winced internally, almost wanting to run a kilometer away. Rather than a disgusted look, her face showed off more of a disappointed look.

“That’s some corny ass shit, Y/n.” She scoffed.

“Just kidding, forget about that.”

“I don’t forget corny jokes that easy, crybaby.” She tilts her head and teases you with a forced pout.

“Well . . . I’ll be honest right now,” You say, “I like your outfit as well. Quite weird for me to see you getting attractive each day.”

You said it from the bottom of your heart. She really was. Everytime you’d see her outside her house, despite the same clothing style she’d still be beautiful.

She seemed to accept your words. Then, she moved closer to you, her eyes gazing at yours. “You know what will be better?” She tilts her head, her body shifting at you. “And it’s when these are off from me, and it’s right in your hands. "

You froze, and found yourself staring back into her eyes while she wore that mischievous smile on her lips. She copied your joke, but why did it work so well for you. Her deliverance, not so maybe.

“Why is Mr. Tough guy silent, eh?” She leans, your face a few inches between, and grins while giggling mischievously. “Feels shocking when your words are thrown back at you as well, doesn't it?”

“Yeah, and you said it so well that it didn’t even sound like a joke anymore.”

“Oh?” She tilts her head, keeping her face close at you. “Did I even say I was?”

Both of you were close, and the urge to kiss her lips, pull her into you, consumes your mind. Your heart was racing fast. This is the time, to take your chance, to finally fulfill that desire you wished. It didn’t take long enough for her to notice you glancing into her cute lips.

“Come on, do it.” She says softly, her breath hot on your face and smelled of liquor. “I could see it in your eyes, Y/n.” She moved even closer. “Do you need mommy’s permission again?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, hesitating. She’s drunk. She doesn’t mean anything of this, and you didn’t want to take advantage of her—even if your urge to do it was boiling inside you. Shit, whatever. You didn’t want to miss it, and you finally took the chance as you pressed your lips on hers. They were smooth like cushions. It all started off with just presses and touches of lips, and the play had changed when she placed her hand around your nape. You’re completely clueless with kisses and such. There you let her continue the kiss, feeling her pulling your lower lip between her lips, giving it a tender suck. Your heart was racing faster, feeling the excitement consume your body. But it’s right here—it’s happening.

She slowly pulls away, tracing her hand on your cheek down to your neck. “Looks like someone doesn’t know how to kiss a girl, hmm?”

You nod sheepishly and look down in embarrassment. Never in once you did have. Shortly, she lifts your chin back at her.

“Let me guide you then.” A sly smile appears on her lips “Inside the car.” She commands as she walks towards the driver door, biting her lips at you.

As you sat inside, she pushed the retract button of your seat, then straddled herself atop you as the seat retracted full. She wasn't heavy at all, yet the feeling of her weight on top of you was euphoric. There’s no such thing as discomfort when an alluring woman is right on your front.

She flipped her hair to the right, then sensually slid her fingers from the side of her neck, down to her shoulder, where she pulled down her sleeve to expose her bare shoulder. “Am I pretty, asshole?”

“Yes, you—”

She leaned and crashed her lips once again into yours, not even letting you complete such a compliment. The rhythm turns aggressive, and the way she’d devour your lips like no tomorrow excites you even more while her hands cradle your face. Her curves were delighting as you placed your hands on it.

You didn’t know how to answer her kisses back, and you let her control you. She wasn’t even complaining, seemingly enjoying the position she had, and as the make out prolonged, you began to feel her tongue between your lips, where you didn’t hesitate to welcome it as she explored your mouth. Your hand grips into her waist as you feel your body burning into excitement.

She pulled away and sighed sensually, straightening her back. She licked her lips wet and bit her lip while she gazed into your eyes full of lust and desire. This is a drunk Rose. In any situation, she’d always look gorgeous—hot.

“Ssibal , igeo neomu segsihae” She hisses, pressing her hands over your chest, then slowly unfastens your buttons. Contemplating decisions, she stopped when you grabbed her hands.

“Rosie, do you really want this?”

She scoffed, and pushed your hand away. “You really had the audacity to stop me when you can’t even kiss properly, huh?” She leans closer into your face, making sure you’d hear the following words from her hot mouth. “And I don’t want you calling me with that name. Wouldn’t it be better if you start calling me—“ She moves to your ear, whispering “—your mommy , hmm?” Slowly, she runs her lips into your neck. “You know I hate when something gets in my way, and you just went and did it. But lucky you, I’m not in my mood to give you pain. Now, all I just want is something inside me—and I think your goddamn dick is the perfect one.”

Your cock stiffened even more. Her words were not something you’d expect from that asshole neighbor weeks ago, with only eyes and gazed communication that became tiring every single afternoon. From giving eyes, to exploring each other’s mouth in her car—it escalated fast.

She helped you pull her fishnet sleeves down from her shoulders, leaving only her black crop top and her delicate skin. Her hips began to rub into your crotch slowly, like she knows how much your cock wanted it—and you really did. A sly smile would form in her lips between grinds when she sees the enjoyment from your eyes. Your breaths and her soft moans fill the quiet surroundings.

Quickly pulling down the black crop top herself revealed a pair of tits that hid beneath the thin fabric. They were just enough for your palms to hold on; perky, petite, and soft. Her nipples hard, and while your thumb enjoyed caressing it, she’d arch her back and let out moans. Her hips continued to grind you. She went faster as you massaged her tits like it’s a separate thing from her.

“Fuck.” She moans and holds your hands, pressing it more into her breasts. “I need something more than this.”

The door clicked on your side and she pushed it open, welcoming the fresh air. You watched Rose dismount herself from you. There were no people around, and she wouldn’t be seen either as she used the mustang as a cover.

“This way.” She pulled your arm, shifting you to face her outside while keeping your ass on the seat. She knelt down; you know what’s gonna happen next, and you were bracing for it. While she unbuckles your belt, she’d give quick glances at your eyes, her lips smirking like a girl unwrapping her Christmas gift despite knowing what’s about to show up already.

Pulled your pants and underwear hard down to your feet, she let out a moan as she appreciated the view of your stiff cock.

“How I missed this.” She points it towards her mouth before her tongue darts out to give a wet lick around your tip. A shiver runs down to your body; irresistible, sort of shocking yet you wanted it for long. It was your first time, and it is addicting. She teases you with her tongue licks around your tip, then shortly, she takes you into her hot mouth, pushing herself into your base. You gripped your hands behind, on the seat, clinging yourself within Rose’s devious act.

The woman moans between swallows, her bobs going slower, then faster — then slow again. You closed your eyes to savor the sensations flowing outward from your crotch. Your hands are gripping the seat harder. You couldn’t help but get mesmerized by the view of her sucking your cock off while kneeling down on a rough concrete road outside, shirtless with her breasts exposed—nipples hard.

You run your fingers on her hair, gripping a few strands as she pulls away.

“Mind helping me?” She looked up at you with a provocative gaze.

“You can’t just suck my dick like this while being shirtless outside.”

“Why?” She raises a brow while keeping a hand wrapped around your cock. “"Don't you want them to know that the guy who they think they can just boss around like a poor pup, is currently having his cock swallowed by the popular guitarist student of Chandelier Academy?” She gives your cock a quick swallow, leaving a slick sheen of her spit between it and her lips. “Are you ashamed of mommy giving his fake boyfriend a head?”

“No.” You shake your head sheepishly.

“Now shut your goddamn mouth.” Then the ravaging continues, slightly raising herself to face your cock down, pushing herself until your base. A moan escapes your mouth; it was sensational, and you’d never get tired—wishing this would last until the morning. Your hands made way on a few strands of her hair while she gave your cock a deep throat, and sensing her struggle you gently pushed her further down, feeling more of her mouth’s insides.

She gags; you were worried, and she felt it when you started to loosen your grip on her hair, so she grasped your wrist back and pressed your hand tightly once again at her hair—telling you to continue further—and so you did. All you could do was watch your arrogant neighbor take herself deep into your cock, and as well savor every delicious sparks of pleasure radiating from your shaft, up to your spine and into an overwhelmed brain.

“I’m cumming, mommy.” You hiss between gasps. It was near, and within these seconds you’d create a mess in her mouth. Rose responded by quickening her pace, up and down—fast. And you found yourself groaning, placing your hand over her head like you were clinging your life into it. No questions needed to ask whether you’d pop it out inside her mouth or not—that was the answer. She went faster every second, and shortly, feeling it now at the edge of your cock, you released it into the back of your neighbor’s needy throat. The sense of relief consumed you. All of that stress and hesitation turned into nothing but thick white semen inside her mouth.

She finally slows her pace, her mouth still wrapped around you as a mix of your cum and her saliva glistens on your cock. Then she looks up at you.“I missed that, did you like it?”

Your nods formed a smile on her lips, and soon she stood up on her feet where she pushed you inside further. Closing the door with her, she moved to the driver seat, shifting her body facing you on the passenger side, where she spread her legs. Her denim shorts were still on, and when she noticed you just watching stupidly, she raised a brow.

“I removed your pants myself, so are you,” stated Rose. This was the greenlight, your hands made way into the button of her shorts, unfastening it, and pulled it to her knees. Her black undergarment greeted your eyes; you kept it on for a while as you admired the view of her delicate thighs, running your hands on them. You’d tease her with your slight touches over her crotch area, where she’d let out a soft moan despite the black thin fabric that separates you and her skin. “You know how to make a woman wait, huh?”

“I’m just making every second count,” says you between heavy breaths. “Might be the first and last.”

“And who said it would be?” Her fingers run on your jawline, as excitement fills you upon hearing those words. You heard it right— might not be your last ever; she said it herself and surely it wasn’t your drunk mind making up voices. “Now don’t keep me waiting before I change my mind.”

You placed kisses on her legs, up to her thighs, then to her belly. Her skin is soft, addictive. Running your hands on her hips while you plant those sweet kisses, she’d spread her legs wider, telling you she couldn’t wait to give in.

Pulling her black undergarment down welcomed your eyes with her delicious pussy, like a meal you’ve wanted for years. Your body burning with desire and lust, and you didn’t wait any longer to devour her cunt right away, latching your lips around her tender flesh.

“Goddamnit.” She grunts, her hand grabbing into your hair as she watches you. Shortly, your fingers find her opening and slip inside, sliding in and out, as you lean towards her to suck her nipples. She was at your mercy, and the sensation was consuming her.

“Faster” She let out a small whimper, her eyes shutting tightly. In response to her request, you quickened your pace, moving faster than usual. Your fingers wetter. “I’m near”

She’d keep her vulgar words until now, but that even made you like your work at her even more. Her hands were still over your head, her nails digging into your scalp. Pain was nothing but an obstacle, you didn’t really mind.

(You quickened more)

At the final reach, she lets out a gasp as she orgasms; her slick wetness dripping into your fingers. Her breath quickened, and she closed her eyes in relaxation, then ran her hand over her messy hair while her desirous eyes gazed at you. Her body was irresistible. You’d take a curvy petite figure every night and day with you without getting tired.

A sly smile spreads across her lips as her gaze settles on your cock. “Now for the exciting part.”

She pushes herself upright, wrapping her arms around your neck as she crashes her lips against yours, hungrily devouring the kiss. Your bare skin touches hers, and what excites you more is seeing her slender, naked figure right in front of you, her weight over your lap as you feel the heat of her body.

You let her do her work on your mouth. Messy? It was not for you— just entirely hot that you’d last forever doing this with her. She pulled away to position herself atop you. Your cock quivers with need. She grips your cock and gently teases it over her needy clit. Her eyes dripped with lust, mirroring the slick sheen of her body.

A moan of pleasure escapes her lips as she finally lowers herself onto your cock—a sound that’s hot and bratty, just as you’d imagine. Her arms remain around your neck as you sit upright, her body pressed close to yours, with her long hair cascading over her face, hiding it from view— you know she’s watching herself.

It started off slowly. You, who was your first time, found it slightly uncomfortable at first, but as time progressed, where she began to change her pace, made you forget such thoughts. Her hips grinding against yours was all that mattered; you loved seeing both of your naked bodies pressed together.

“ Jenjang Y/N. neo jonna himdeureo (Fuck Y/n, you’re so fucking hard.)” She muttered close to your ear, sounding very tired— though her pace over you said otherwise, grinding faster. You didn’t understood a single word from her, probably her dialect on Korea, but her tone was enough for you understand that she was enjoying it.

Throughout it all, you’re fucking her inside her car, savoring the feel of her orgasming pussy wrapped tightly around your cock with each thrust. Your hands pressed against her curves, feeling the sweat of her body, and supporting her while she gives a nice ride over your cock.

You’re nearing your peak again, and she’s grinding against you faster now, loud moans escaping her lips. One arm stays draped over your shoulders while the other runs through her messy hair and then over her head. You enjoy the view of her sweaty body, and your hands find their way to her breasts once more. Her lustful eyes lock with yours, and she eagerly devours your lips. Her body presses harder against you, matching the rhythm of her fast grind.

“‘Shit!’ Rose gasps, her voice trembling with anticipation and broken by breathless moans. She’s approaching her peak as well, her body tensing with each thrust. Just before you can release, she quickly pulls away, raising herself and stroking your cock rapidly. Thick, white semen erupts from you, spilling out with each stroke as it travels down to her fingers. At the same, she runs her fingers over her clit, her own juices mixing with the mess on the floorboard.

Her mouth finds its way back to your cock, swallowing it deep and then licking the remaining semen from around it. It glistens with her saliva and your cum, but what you appreciate most is the sight of her face beside it, a hint of your semen at the corner of her lips. Fatigue is evident in her eyes—she looks ready to sleep, or maybe not, as she hints at the possibility of another round.

“Like that?” she asks softly.

“Who wouldn’t?”

“My exes,” she shrugs, a smirk playing on her lips. “Maybe it was me, so I had to improve.”

“So I’m lucky to experience your improvement.”

“Kinda.” She rests her chin on your lap. “I’ve never slept with a guy without being in a relationship first. So, yeah, I guess so.”

#blackpink #blackpink rosé #blackpink roseanne #university #canada #smut #blackpink smut #roseanne park #bp rosé #bp roseanne #male reader #jennie blackpink #blackpink lisa #blackpink jisoo

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silverfairywings · 2 months ago

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— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT I

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: not sure what this is but let me know if u want more lol

You’d think that hiding behind the Spymaster of the Night Court, a literal Shadowsinger, would allow you to blend in well enough to go unnoticed.

The auburn silk of your dress is a near perfect match to the grandeur of the Autumn Court ballroom you’re unfortunate enough to have to be in, and you tell yourself that the attempt at camouflage is the reason you were so drawn to the colour.

When Rhysand approached you and the rest of the Inner Circle with the invitation of a ball thrown by Eris to celebrate his newly inherited title of High Lord, your sister Nesta had dragged you out to shop for new dresses. You were adamant to wear an old gown until the dress caught your eye, the gold beads glinting in the light, almost mimicking a gently burning fire. The deep orange hue of the silk slip was muted ever so slightly by the sheer overlay, cinching at the waist before cascading to the ground and the wisps of fabric around your legs gave the illusion of sparks every time you moved.

Nesta had made a comment about the dress being perfect for Autumn Court and you had to physically restrain yourself from grimacing. You just liked the colour. It didn’t mean a thing.

Nesta and Feyre looked like perfect representatives of the Night Court and even Elain was donning soft shades of purple and blue tonight, a perfect embodiment of twilight. You loved your sisters, but you felt like you never quite fit in to the Night Court the way they had grown to. And you certainly felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb tonight.

Eris was definitely going to comment on the dress and you curse yourself internally, not having thought it through. He was jarring at the best of times, let alone a night that was solely dedicated to him. And you were dressed in the colours of his court.

You were extremely glad when Eris’ mother was the one to greet you all when you first entered the Autumn Court and not him. It allowed you to fully appreciate the beauty of his lands with unrestrained awe. Your sisters knew that Autumn had always been your favourite season, so the way you were so happy catching each falling leaf out of the sky was even more amusing to them considering they also knew how little patience you had for Eris.

That’s why you find yourself hiding behind Azriel’s wings tonight. As soon as you spot Eris making his way to greet Rhysand and Feyre, you sneak behind the Shadowsinger in an attempt to make yourself invisible.

“Seriously?” mutters the Illyrian, but he stays still for you all the same.

“Keep quiet,” you hiss, prodding him in the back. “You know very well how much he targets me. Gods, I thought he hated Cassian, but I seriously give him a run for his money.”

Mor, overhearing you, snorts into her cup. She creeps up next to you, lowering her voice to match yours. “You are so oblivious. He doesn’t hate you. He wants-”

“Might I interrupt the riveting conversation that I’m sure is going on behind the Shadowsinger’s wings?” you hear a voice drawl from in front. Your blood runs hot at being caught and you nearly burst into flames when Azriel starts to lower his wings, revealing you and Mor. She rolls her eyes at Eris’ attitude and walks away to talk to the pretty faerie in the green dress.

The years have softened the strained relationship between the Circle and Eris and none of them view him as a threat any longer. That doesn’t mean they find him any less irritating though.

Eris smiles at you when you cross your arms and clench your jaw, already feeling impatience with him bubbling up inside of you. He glances down at your dress and his lips quirk up a little higher. “Looking stunning as ever, Y/N.”

The others have already dispersed, and even Rhysand and Feyre have started to garner the attention of other important people they need to talk to. As they start to leave however, Rhysand speaks to in your head. Let me know if he’s bothering you too much. Just… try not to throw a plate at his face this time, please.

You glare at the back of Rhysand’s head. That was one time.

He doesn’t respond but you see his shoulders shaking with laughter for a millisecond before Feyre nudges him to behave in front of an Autumn Court official.

“Talking about me?” Eris asks, amused. You open your mouth to snap back at him, but notice the growing number of guests that are around the two of you now that the others have moved away. You bite your tongue for once. He is the High Lord now after all.

You plaster on a sweet smile. “Only good things… High Lord.”

Eris raises his brows at that, but chooses not to comment. He holds out his hand instead. “Dance with me.”

You’re about to laugh in his face and tell him absolutely not, but his request has caught the attention of a couple guests and they nosily look over in what you’re sure they think is a subtle way. “I’m a little tired. Sorry,” you say through gritted teeth, still smiling.

“Surely you’re not going to deny me such a small request on tonight of all nights?” he says softly, part mocking and part pleading.

You know for a fact he won’t force you to dance, but if you deny him in front of the other guests, it’ll undermine him and while you dislike him, you’re not that cruel. Plus, Feyre would probably have your head if you were to insult a High Lord in public. In private, she only ever laughs when you disparage him, but appearances are everything.

“Of course not,” you deadpan, reaching for his outstretched hand and trying not to react to the way the warmth radiating through his palm is warming your previously cold fingers.

He leads you into the crowd of dancing guests, placing his free hand on your waist as you rest yours on his shoulder, keeping a respectable distance. He rolls his eyes and tugs you forward so your chest is nearly flush against his own. When you glare at him, he merely smirks. “It’s a little hard for two people to dance when one of them is halfway across the room from the other.”

You hear a giggle from one of the guests near you and nearly whip around to glare at them. Eris catches the expression on his face and it’s as though he can read your mind with the way he’s holding back a grin. “My apologies,” you mumble, before lowering your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “Smartass.”

“I do so enjoy your pet names for me,” Eris teases, utterly unbothered. Every time you interact with him, you swear to yourself you’ll keep a cool head. And every time, you fail. “I like your dress.”

You narrow your eyes at the compliment, but since he hasn’t actually said anything insulting or with a double meaning like he usually does, you don’t have anything to be annoyed about and begrudgingly accept the nice words. “Thank you.”

“You look ravishing in the colours of my court.”

You step on his foot.

He hisses in pain, but the grin doesn’t leave his face when he sees that he’s succeeded in irritating you.

“I didn’t choose the colours on purpose,” you say, defensively. “I just happened to like the dress.”

“You know, you often happen to like Autumn colours,” he muses, expression turning thoughtful and not in a sarcastic way this time. “Or any colour that isn’t of the Night Court’s fashion. Tell me, do your sisters know how you long to find someplace you actually belong?”

Your stomach drops and you feel like you’ve been doused in freezing cold water.

“I wasn’t aware you were a Daemati, High Lord,” you say, scowling. Eris furrows his brows at the title and spins you out before bringing you back in, this time a little closer than before. “You’re wrong.”

“Stop calling me that,” he mutters, a hint of impertinence in his voice. It takes you by surprise since you assumed he’d be revelling in all the glory, the power of High Lord coursing through his veins. Instead, he sounds like a boy being denied his favourite sweets. “Call me Eris again.”

“No.” You frown at him, pulling back slightly to meet his stubborn gaze. “We’re not friends. You’re the High Lord of Autumn now and I’ll be addressing you as such.”

“What, I’m High Lord now, so you have to respect me all of a sudden?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you sigh, already anticipating this conversation taking a turn you don’t want it to.

“You have to be pleasant with me?”

“Yes.”

“Listen to my commands?”

“Yes.”

His smile turns wolfish. “Then I command you to call me Eris.”

“I can think of a few other things to call you, if not High Lord,” you mutter, careful not to allow any eavesdroppers to hear.

“And while I’d love to hear them, I doubt they’d be suitable for the delicate ears of court officials.”

While he’s exactly right, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief tells you that he’s insinuating a completely different type of unsuitable and your cheeks burn.

“Don’t you ever tire of being so wearisome?” you say, drily. His eyes soften ever so slightly as they scan over your face.

“Don’t you ever tire of pretending?” he asks quietly, meeting your eyes determinedly. You don’t bother asking him to clarify.

“Why can’t you just mind your own business?” You try to snap at him, but the way his words hit you deep have all the bite leaving your voice and instead you sound imploring.

Eris doesn’t answer your question and just keeps going as the two of you dance. “My mother wants me to tell you that you’re welcome to visit any time, by the way.”

“I’ll let Rhysand know.”

“She didn’t say Rhysand, she said you.”

”What?” You look up at him, shocked. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say, “Why in the world would your mother want me to visit? She saw me hurl that plate at your head last month.”

“Yes, and she told me I probably said something to deserve it,” he grumbles, but without any real malice when talking about his mother. It’s clear as day that he has nothing but love for the sweet woman.

“She’s a smart one, your mother,” you say, grinning at the thought of Eris being reprimanded. You catch him watching you without speaking and immediately frown, not wanting him to think you’re actually smiling at him. Which you definitely aren't. “I still don’t understand why she wants me to visit.”

Eris shrugs, although his eyes stray from yours, and he’s seemingly bored with the conversation as he looks down to the floor as your feet move gracefully across it. “She likes your attitude.”

“My bad attitude?” you ask, wrinkling your nose in genuine confusion.

“Passionate,” he corrects you, meeting your eyes again, and you find no traces of humour in them. “And ‘fiery’ as she called it. Don’t feel bad for not being able to always control your emotions in front of others like the rest of them. You’re allowed to feel.”

Any response you might have had is lost to nothing and the silence stretches as your heart feels like it’s slamming against your chest. It’s a mix of fear and something else with the way he’s looking at you and you suddenly need to be anywhere else.

Clearing your throat, you step back in the middle of dancing and lower your hand from his shoulder to smooth down your dress. Your other hand is still ensnared in his and it lingers there while he speaks.

“If you do accept my mother’s invitation, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want to,” Eris adds and you try and listen out for any veiled mocking.

“Why do you even care?”

At this, his lips quirk up almost involuntarily. Slowly, his fingers start to loosen up around your hand and he begins to let go, faintly trailing his hand down your own as he does so. Instead of stepping away, he walks closer, stepping to the side slightly to lean down so his lips brush against your ear in a way that makes your breathing erratic.

“My mother was telling me that she saw you practically light up like a forest fire surrounded by the trees. She feels as though you should be able to stay longer next time,” he says in a normal voice before lowering it to a whisper. “She also overheard one of your sisters call Autumn your favourite season.”

Before you can protest and, let’s face it, lie to him, Eris calmly walks away and you know for a fact that the smug bastard is smirking at the way he’s succeeded in getting under your skin.

There’s no way you’re accepting his mother’s invitation, as sweet a woman as she is. You think about all the possible ramifications and decide to push the thought in its entirety out of your mind.

Nothing good ever comes from agreeing to dance with Eris. It’s extremely similar to playing with fire, you think.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x you #Eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fanfic #Eris vanserra imagines #eris x oc

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queenshelby · 4 months ago

Text

Siblings (Part One)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Half!Sister

Warning: Incest

It was around 10'clock at night when you heard a quiet knock on the door. You couldn't help but feel a little surprised—and a bit nervous. You had never had a visitor this late before as usually your siblings were out, getting themselves into trouble, and your Aunt Polly, who had taken it upon herself to look after everyone, was in bed.

Your sister Ada, with whom you shared a room, had sneaked out earlier to see her boyfriend Freddy, so it was just you that night, alone in your small room, lying on your single bed, wearing a nightgown and reading a book.

"Who is it?" you called out, your heart skipping a beat.

"It's Thomas," came the reply. His voice was quiet and calm.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should let him in that late at night. He had just come back from the war a few weeks ago and his demure had changed towards you. It was almost like he had become obsessed with you, wanting to keep you company more often than you were used to.

Thomas was gone for five years and came back more handsome than ever. He had a rugged jawline, and deep-set blue eyes. He wasn't tall, but well-built with a perfect gentleman's body.

The war had hardened him, made him stronger, but also wiser. He had seen the worst of humanity, and you could tell that it had affected him deeply. It was understandable; he had been through hell and back.

"May I come in?" Thomas eventually asked, his voice still composed.

Without saying a word, you stood up and covered yourself with a robe , before opening the door slowly.

The light from the hallway spilled into the room, illuminating Thomas's figure. He looked a bit tired, but his eyes were still bright and clear.

"Of course," you said finally, as you walked back to your bed and folded your book closed.

"I have heard that there was trouble today, at the docks," Thomas said as he sat down on the edge of your bed. He looked tired, but fatigue failed to sap the confidence and dominance from his demeanor.

You sighed and nodded. "Ada told me not to go there, but curiosity got the better of me Tommy," you admitted whereas, the truth was, that just recently you began to involve yourself with Isiah, another Peaky Blinder and your new-found love had gotten you into trouble.

"Curiosity, eh?" Thomas chuckled, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Isiah wouldn't have anything to do with this curiosity now, would he?" he then asked, his eyes locked on yours.

You looked away, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks. "He never meant for me to get involved, Tommy. It just kind of happened," you replied quietly, seeing how Isiah took risks and those risks involved you.

"Listen Y/N, you are a fucking Shelby," Thomas said, his voice stern but not unkind. "And you need to be careful about who you associate with."

"But Isiah is your friend, is he not?" you asked, slightly confused with Thomas's sudden change of tone.

"Isiah works for me Love. That doesn't make him a friend," Tommy replied curtly, his gaze still fixed on you. "Despite, even if he was my friend, I wouldn't allow him to be involved with my fucking sister," Tommy added, the veneer of calmness cracking a bit.

You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a knot forming in your stomach. The way things were going, it seemed as though you had made a mistake. With the tension in the room growing thicker by the second, you felt compelled to speak.

"Honestly, I don't even know why I got myself mixed up with him, Tommy," you admitted, shame coloring your voice. "I suppose I was bored," you added as an afterthought.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed your face. "You're better than that, Love," he finally said, his voice steady and firm. "And if boredom is what bothers you, then I am sure we can make arrangements for you to work at the betting house," he then told you a lot more gently than before, placing some stray hair behind your ear.

"Aunt Pol won't allow it," you said quietly, not because you didn't want to work there, but because you believed that your aunt would not approve of such an idea.

"It is not up to Pol," Thomas said shortly, his fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek gently. "But out of curtesy, I will discuss it with her, alright?" he added after a short pause.

Before you could respond, Thomas's hand dropped from your face, and he stood up, his presence in the small room suddenly overwhelming.

"But Y/N, if you are going to continue seeing Isiah...," he began to say and you quickly interrupted him.

"Not after today," you replied firmly. "Not after what happened at the docks. I promise," you added, reassuring your brother.

Thomas looked at you, relief visible in his eyes. "Good. I'll hold you to that Y/N," he said before leaning down to give you a peck on your forehead.

You blushed slightly, shocked by this sudden display of affection from your half-brother. But before you could react, Thomas walked out of your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and, when you settled back on to your bed, you couldn't help but wonder what just happened. Thomas and you have always had a close relationship since him and Arthur had assumed responsibility for you after your father got arrested by the police, but you have never witnessed such a display of emotion from him before.

As you lay there in the dark, the silence was broken by the moonlight filtering through the blinds. The light cast a soothing glow on the room and made the floral quilt on the twin bed look more inviting. Your mind was abuzz with thoughts, each one trying to get a different message across. You tried to silence them and focus on the recent events.

This whole situation with Thomas, your curiosity, the sudden shift in your relationship - you knew that it was not something to take lightly. It felt different, and you could not ignore the strange tension that lingered between the two of you.

You sighed deeply and turned to face the window. It was then that you noticed the stars twinkling in the night sky ever so slightly. They were there, silent and unassuming, much like Thomas. You couldn't help but wonder what was going on in his mind.

Thomas had always been a mystery to you, even before he left for France, but now it felt like there was a whole other person behind the blue eyes that you had grown up with.

Days had passed and you indeed started working at the gambling den , which was located in the heart of Small Heath. It was a bustling place, and it was chaotic during peak hours, but you found joy in the chaos. Surprisingly, Aunt Polly did not seem to mind much; she knew that this was one of the ways to keep you out of trouble.

While you were working there, your brother Thomas kept a close eye on you and as different men attempted to flirt with you, they quickly learned that you were untouchable, a notion further solidified by Thomas’s warning glares.

On two occasions, he even threatened gamblers with a gun after you were propositioned for a date, and it was clear to you that he wasn’t playing around. Thomas Shelby never made idle threats, after all.

"You do realise that most of these men are harmless, Tommy," you said to Thomas one evening, after you had closed the betting shop for the night. The sky was a deep indigo and the stars were shining brightly.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes sharp and piercing. "That may be true, but you are my sister and they need to show you some fucking respect," he retorted, his voice steadier than before.

"But Tommy," you began, still unsure of what to make of this sudden outburst. "I am capable of handling my own affairs. I can fend them off," you assured your brother who appeared somewhat overprotective of you.

"I am sure you are," Thomas agreed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But what kind of employer would I be if I did not at least protect my employees from unwanted advances, eh?" he asked, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards in a half-smile.

"A pretty shite one I suppose," you admitted, returning his half-smile with a lopsided grin as he locked the door.

"Exactly," he concurred, shaking his head as you stepped onto the sidewalk, right by your brother's side. "Now let me walk you home. It's late," Thomas said as he always did when you worked in his betting house until after dawn.

As Thomas and you walked side by side, the silence between you was comfortable, but there was still something that kept niggling the back of your mind. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but it seemed like Thomas was hiding something from you.

Nonetheless, as you walked to the house you shared with Polly, Tommy and the others, you couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to gauge what it was that was causing this strange behavior lately.

It was like he took a liking in you that almost felt, more than brotherly, but you decided not to focus on the matter and instead enjoyed the warmth of his company while it lasted.

Days passed, and your routine at the gambling den turned into sort of a normality, despite the occasional tensions between patrons and your brother that threatened to boil over.

On evening, at your house when you and Tommy were on your own, you ought to address it, his overprotectiveness and the strange tension that kept building between you.

But, Tommy simply brushed it off and told you that he was simply concerned for your safety.

"But I am safe here Tommy, with you and the others," you reminded him, your tone gentle yet firm. "And at the gambling house, even if some of the customers are inappropriate, it is a safe place because no one would dare to fuck with you, Arthur or John and I think you know that," you said, unable to mask the frustration that crept into your voice.

Tommy looked down at you, his gaze intense but soft. He took a deep breath before speaking, as if choosing his words carefully.

"Y/N, I know that you can look after yourself but, what I have learned over the years, is that no one is safe. Not here, not anywhere," Thomas said, his voice still firm but softer than before.

You stared into Thomas's eyes, feeling a strange mix of emotions coursing through your veins. Awe, admiration, and... something more. Something you couldn't quite put your finger on yet.

"The war changed you, you know?" you said the words before you could stop yourself.

Thomas sighed and looked at you, his expression filled with a mix of sadness and guilt. "Yes, I know," he admitted quietly. "I can't help it, Y/N. I've seen and done things that most people couldn't even imagine."

You nodded, understanding dawning on you.

"No, you are right Tommy. I can't imagine," you said softly, caressing the scar on his cheek, causing Tommy to lean in closer, his eyes locked on yours.

You felt your heart race as you looked into Thomas's eyes. There was something about him that made you feel safe, yet also intensely aware of your feelings for him. You had never felt this way about anyone before.

"But you know what's amusing though?" you murmured, breaking the silence that had enveloped the room as Thomas leaned over some more, his fingers lightly traced your jawline, you couldn't help but play along. "You are so overprotective towards me when it comes to potential suitors and there is almost no reason for you to be that way, because I never even kissed a boy before, so it just seems so absurd to me," you continued, allowing yourself to drop your guard, just a little.

"I find that hard to believe, Y/N," Thomas murmured, the pad of his thumb brushing the corner of your lips before slowly moving to trace the length of your jawbone.

Your breath hitched in your chest, hearing his low voice uttering your real name; you always felt an odd sense of familiarity from him, especially when he chose to use your given name, just for a brief moment. It almost felt like the two of you were not step-siblings.

"No, it's true. I never kissed a boy before, Tommy," you confessed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn't know what had come over you, but suddenly, you couldn't help but feel drawn to your half-brother. "What is it like?" you

asked, your lips barely moving as Thomas continued to trace a path along your jawline.

"What's what like?" Thomas asked, his voice low and husky, as he leaned in even closer to you.

"Kissing," you clarified, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks as you admitted this.

Thomas seemed taken aback by the question, his gaze lingering briefly on your lips before meeting your eyes again.

"I guess it depends on who you are kissing," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes, it's just a kiss and it feels like nothing because it means nothing. But other times, it's more than that. It can be a way to express your feelings for someone. To show them how much you care about them," Thomas explained, his gaze still locked on yours.

"Do you think you could show me?" you whispered, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

Thomas's eyes narrowed as he looked at you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your breathing had quickened.

"Seeing that you are my sister, that would be inappropriate, don't you think?" Thomas said, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice.

"It's just a kiss, Tommy," you replied, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. "And no one needs to know," you continued, your heart pounding in your chest as you confessed this vulnerable part of yourself to your brother.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes searching yours as he processed your words. You could see the wheels turning in his head, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to tell you no . But then something shifted in his gaze, a heat that made your heart race.

"Alright. Fuck it," Thomas muttered, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

You gasped slightly, surprised by how sudden the kiss was and how soft and gentle his lips were.

Your hands reached up to grip his arms, feeling the firm muscles beneath your fingertips as you leaned into the kiss. Thomas's other hand reached up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss.

Not knowing what to do, you followed his lead and when he parted his lips, you did the same before tentatively touching your tongue to his, experimenting with the new sensation.

Your brother's lips were warm and as the kiss deepened, you felt a fire ignite within you, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. Your heart was racing as Thomas's hand dropped down from your hair, tracing a path around your neck as he deepened the kiss once more before, suddenly, he pulled away.

You stared at Thomas, your lips still tingling from the kiss. You could see a storm of emotions raging within his eyes, but you couldn't quite decipher what he was feeling. Was it guilt? Shock? Excitement? Pleasure?

"I am sorry Love, but I have business to attend to," he told you with a horse voice, his breathing heavy and uneven from the kiss.

You nodded, trying to catch your breath as well. You could feel a blush spreading across your cheeks as you moved away from him, giving him some much-needed space. Thomas looked at you, his eyes heated with desire, before turning away and leaving the room without another word.

Even after he had left. a jolt of pleasurable heat still lingered on your lips where Thomas’s mouth had just been, you couldn’t believe what had just happened. Your stepbrother, fucking Thomas, he had just kissed you and you didn’t know if you should feel guilty about it or if you should be elated.

“You’re an idiot,” you muttered to yourself as you ran your fingers through your hair, still feeling dazed. Your mind was racing, replaying the image of Thomas kissing you, over and over again.

Your lips were still tingling from the contact, but the room felt cold and empty once he left, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts.

You couldn't believe what had just happened. Thomas had kissed you. He fucking kissed you and you were the one that had asked him to do it.

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u3pxx · 8 months ago

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KIM KITSURAGI - “Is that. My kineema.”

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something in him is about to break, *big time*.

EMPATHY - And it’s not going to be pretty, do something!

- DRAMA [Formidable] - Everything is fine!

- “Sure is.”

DRAMA [Formidable: Failure] - Surely he’s aware that he’s not the *only* person in the world who owns a Kineema?

YOU - “Is it really *yours*? I mean, plenty of people have their own Kineemas, right? Like working men, government offices, uh, firefighters I guess, maybe even animal control people? Exactly! A million different people who could’ve driven it into the uh…”

DRAMA - Pause, my liege! Ixnay on the Ineemakay!

YOU - “It could even be our *mysterious* joyrider!”

KIM KITSURAGI - Your frenzied babbling falls deaf to the lieutenant's ears. Instead, he approaches the broken vehicle, sunken in the ice. He moves with a caution and gentleness you haven’t seen him display before.

INLAND EMPIRE - It must be cold and lonely down there, in the icy water. Maybe he could sense its sorrow, calling to him…

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - His hands, which are always stiffly placed behind his back, are trembling.

ENDURANCE - This is the shuffle of a tired, tired man.

HALF LIGHT - He’s going to do something drastic because of you. Oh god, terrible! You’re a terrible liar! You can’t look at this, you just can’t!

VOLITION [Formidable: Success] - It's not *you* who drove his kineema into the sea. You have plenty of faults, but this one is decidedly not yours.

KIM KITSURAGI - He kneels down with his head bowed, casting his face in shadow. He plants a hand on the ice to stabilize himself, squinting to get a better view of the motor carriage. “Detective, it says ‘57’ on it.”

YOU - Sweat drips down your brow, and you feel a terrible headache coming. “Maybe our joyrider has an affinity for that number?”

LOGIC - He's not stupid, he knows that it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - “57.”

YOU - “What about 57?”, you brace yourself.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Precinct 57.”

YOU - You wince. “Kim, look-”

KIM KITSURAGI - “When I woke up in the Whirling-in-Rags with no memory of what happened during the days before, I've taken note that something of mine has gone missing.” He grits his teeth. "A very. Important. Something."

He runs his hands over his face, messing his already unkempt hair in the process. Regret creeps up on his features. “God. Fuck. They’re going to fire me over this, they’re not going to hear me out.”

EMPATHY - Desperation settles in the lieutenant's tone. Sadly, you find yourself in agreement, even if you don’t want it to be the truth.

YOU - “People are more valuable than machines, Kim.”

KIM KITSURAGI - “Not people like me.” He rasps.

YOU - “…”

KIM KITSURAGI - Before you can say anything more, you fail to notice the lieutenant carefully walking onto the edge of the ice. He looks over the frigid water, a dizzying blue that mirrors and distorts his exhausted face back to him.

YOU - “Kim?”

KIM KITSURAGI - Seconds pass as he looks to be contemplating something. Out of nowhere, he casually takes another step where the ice ends and the sea begins. It happens all too quick for the lieutenant to even voice a call for help— if he even wanted to — his body plunging into the cold water before your eyes.

YOU - “KIM!!!!”

uhhh bonus stuff? sorry i have swap au brainworms pfttt

(im not sure what skills kim has at the moment so rn he only has narration as his inner monologue ok whoops, i would like to keep harry as the guy who thinks in dialogue trees so im still figuring it out pfttt)

also, this was done bc i wanted to expand on these old scribbles of mine, just like an idea, i just think that he'd be having an even worse time wheezes

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #harry du bois #den's disco swap #disco elysium role swap #HI nobody look at the fact that. i am a novice writer at best DFGHJFGH #i had idea for some comic dialogue but it ended up being this instead whoops. i mean i could still draw this as a comic #anyways. i was like. trying to reverse engineer my idea of how kim can change into his bomber jacket instead of his uniform.#which. i dont think you can do with just simple convincing bc that thing is fused to him in spirit so there has to be like a good reason wh #oh it gets ruined! how? it gets like wet or smth! how'd that happened? he threw himself into the sea #also isnt it fitting that my memory problems is making me not remember the things that happen in disco elysium very well wheezes #so whoops if the characterization is a lil off lmaoooooo #but i have been trying to figure out how i want harry to be in this swap au #i dont think he's as well as he wants you to believe he is. and just the image of him pushing this 'youre allowed to be in denial about +#this' to kim about the kineema was so vivid in my head and idk if that tracks but hell. its in there now dfghdjfg #sunnysidedraws #sunnysidedisco

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sunr1seblvd · 1 month ago

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- you are in love.

you are in love.

summary: the three times jj fell in love with you, and the one time you fell in love with him. warnings: lowk lovesick!jj, swearing (duh), somewhat canon violence, small reference to luke (gross), underage drinking, not proofread, the scenarios aren't in timeline order but who cares a/n: loved writing this! i'm also taking requests or people that just wanna talk in my inbox, so hit me up :) feel free to send me some feedback, i'm always trying to improve. wc: 567

you can hear it in the silence.

10:20 AM - the chateau

it was uncharacteristically quiet for a morning at john b's place. he and sarah were out in charleston looking for clues, kie was stuck working at the wreck (jj wasn't sure how that was a bad thing because of the free food), and pope and cleo were out helping heyward with orders.

so here jj was with you, girl of his dreams since the 3rd grade. you and him sat in the living room on the pull out sofa, half asleep and in your own thoughts.

he wondered what was going through that pretty little head of yours. was it him? was it someone else?

he felt comfortable in the silence. he shifted towards you, looking into your e/c eyes. you looked back into his steel baby blues, feeling blush creeping up on him slowly.

you giggled to yourself, turned around, and went back to sleep.

you can feel it on the way home.

11 PM - somewhere in the obx...

jj and the pogues just found the gold. like...the gold.

everyone was screaming about going "full kook! full kook!" and so were you!

but if you ignored the gold bar in your hand, and the mud, rain, and general dirt on your skin and clothes, you were so much more than that.

"jj, you good?" you asked and nudged him playfully, bringing him out of his romantic stupor.

"y-yeah! of fucking course, baby! you helped john b over here find the gold!" he yelled as the van errupted in cheers.

"yeah, and almost died in the process," you joked, cheesing hard.

if jj wasn't surrounded by all his friends or you didn't smell like actual cow shit, he would've kissed you on the spot.

you can see it with the lights out.

jj knew this was stupid, but he wouldn't be jj if he didn't do this.

it was pouring down, the rain slamming onto your house. he knocked slightly on your bedroom window. he saw a faint light turn on and saw you pull your curtains apart.

"jj?! what the hell- it's pouring down, get in here!" you hissed.

he climbed into your room, knocking down a book on your shelf. both of your head whipped towards your bedroom door, knowing your parents were right down the hall. you turned off the lamp, the only light in the room being the moon.

"what are you doing her- is it your dad?" you whispered.

"yeah, it was..." jj trailed off.

"c'mere," you motioned for him to give you a hug, and you felt his tears blotch onto your tee.

"you're okay..you're okay, shhhh," you murmured, not wanting to alert your parents.

he had never felt more love in that moment than in his entire life.

you are in love.

10 PM - the chateau's dock

maybe you were going insane, or maybe the bottle of beer you and jj were sharing together finally kicked in, but you think jj maybank just kissed you.

sure, you had feelings for jj, but it never really occured to you that he might like love you back.

you both sat at the edge of the docks of the chateau, looking out to the starry night sky. you were crisscrossed towards him, still in shock about what had happened.

"i'm sorry! that was sudden, i'm not mad if you didn't wanna talk to me again-" he rambled and got ready to get up when you pulled him down and kissed him back.

you kissed each other, the only noises around were the crickets and the occasional frog.

you are in love. true love.

#jj maybank #jj maybank obx #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader fluff #ʚ rena's posts !#ʚ rena's shows: obx !#ʚ rena's characters: jj !

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on-leatheredwings · 9 months ago

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Dirty Laundry (18+)

Yandere! Dick Grayson x (Fem) Reader

> romantic, 18+ > Request: I think Dick would be a major creep and your rules didn't say anything about no nsft, so can I ask for a fic with this scenario: Dick stealing reader's underwear and using the dirty ones to get off while cumming into the clean ones. And putting the "clean" ones back into her dresser hoping she doesn't notice the stains and wears them? Thanks! > a/n: …………………………………… Ohhhh, so you’re crazy. Meaning, you’re just like me . thanks for the dick request i want to write him better/more ;u; had fun writing this! > tw: someone cumming in your panties without your consent or knowledge, so sexual assault. As well as yandere-typical thoughts and behaviors. > Word count: 1847 (Ugh this was supposed to be like 3 paragraphs max but i’m me.)

Dick’s your best friend.

… You guess.

He was new to Blüdhaven, and you two just seemed to keep bumping into each other in the rare times you left your apartment. Might as well get to know the guy. You didn’t have much choice in the matter, once he attached to you. And that was okay, because you liked him back and, frankly, were in quite desperate need for friends. The man currently lounges on your bed, sifting through a magazine while you’re mixing audio for this indie rock cover band that’s commissioned you. That’s your side hustle and passion, when you’re not being a work-from-home researcher for S.T.A.R. Labs.

You’re an hour into your work and Dick Grayson is lounging on his spot on your bed, because he has claimed a spot at this point. All is well with the world. Then, your stomach lets out a groan, and so do you.

A pair of eyes, all ocean blue and twinkling, slide over to you without a second’s hesitation. You meet them, unblinking and unperturbed. Does he know he’s kind of a freak? Being all light-eyed and adoring?

You stand up without fanfare, removing your headphones from your ears and letting them sit around the column of your neck.

“I’m going to get food from the place next door.”

You yawn and walk away from your desk. That usually was much harder for you, but Grayson’s presence in your life had made it more of a priority for you to care for yourself. “Don’t touch anything,” you say, plainly and without venom. Without another word, you’re gone, and Dick launches up from his seat once he hears the front door to your flat close.

He told himself he was going to do this today. He told himself, and he is a man of his word.

He opens the bottom drawer of your dresser, where he knows you keep your clean pairs of underwear. Then he trespasses into your closet, where he knows you keep your laundry basket.

Dick knows where a lot of things are in your apartment, and he has made it his job to know every inch of your bedroom specifically. When you leave the room, like times like this, he enjoys going around and familiarizing himself with everything. And he’s planted cameras, of course. He does leave your en-suite restroom alone, an act he pats himself on the back for. You deserved your privacy, after all. To his disappointment, you do tend to masturbate exclusively in the shower, and he must tide himself over with the audio his cameras pick up, rather than visuals.

After a moment’s hesitation, Dick buries his hands into your laundry basket. These were the things… you wore. His eyes twinkle as he smiles. Still, he had no time to waste. While often busy, the Chinese place you were at was also known for its fast service. Dick grabs the first pair of panties he sees: blue lace-trim, white in color, with blue gingham. You’re so cute.

He sits in your closet, back to your hamper, slides off the jeans that look really good on him which he hopes you’ve noticed. All of these actions are done a little clumsier than normal because his pulse roars in his ears.

He lets his head fall backward, and he begins pumping his cock with your panties in that same hand. He thinks of your face, your body, your hands. He really likes your hands, so adept and amble, always flying across a keyboard or strumming a guitar. He thinks about the honest things you say, truthful but usually with tact. He thinks about your eyes crinkling when he’s being a show-off, and your pretty lips that you’re usually wetting with your tongue rather than finally just getting lip balm.

At this point, Dick is a wreck, eyes glazed over and only half-open. His eyelashes flutter as he struggles to keep them open. He goes slack-jawed, pink lips only a little swollen from his biting down on them. He’s about to finish, he knows he is. It’s building in him like the birth of a tidal wave. Pre-cum and his sweat have soiled your gingham pair, and he looks at the very plain pair of navy blue boyshorts in his free hand, clenched into a fist. He finds himself blushing. Your underwear is so… you, and it’s hilarious that holding them in his hand is what is flustering him so much. Considering what he’s doing.

Dick whimpers, a sound that’s both embarrassing and utterly liberating. Pleasure pulses in between his legs, his back shoots into an arch, his balls hike up to the base of his cock. He cums with a raspy cry, right onto the crotch of your boyshorts. He had initially planned to just finish anywhere on the fabric, but at the last second decided to cum where your cunt would touch. He’s kind of romantic like that. (He’s also kind of a pervert, and he knows that.)

He pants in the afterglow of his orgasm, cheeks painted over with rosy pink. He tosses your white pair back into its home, the laundry basket.

His calloused fingers reach up for the corner of his mouth, which had been agape this whole while.

… Was he drooling?

Dick robotically proceeds to rub his semen into your underwear until it's just a dark stain. He pulls his dark jeans from the pool of black denim they formed at his ankles, he runs his fingers through his hair at a job well done. He returns your boyshorts to your dresser, neatly folding them like all the rest. And finally, he wipes his mouth. He returns to your bed, and it’s like nothing has happened since you left.

Dick Grayson – Gotham pretty boy, badass superhero – should probably cringe; in any other context, isn’t that so lame…? But considering it was you, honestly, what could he have expected…

You come back into your bedroom, a bag of takeout swinging from your hands. His eyes don’t leave you for an instant.

… You simply have that effect on him.

You stomp through his room until you’re right in front of him, where he pretends to be scrolling on his phone. Your arms are akimbo as you stare down at him, blocking your room’s overhead light with your skull and casting your shadow over him. He looks up and smiles cheekily.

“Alright, Dickard.” Dick’s lips quirk. “Get out. I’m going to shower and change.” Sniffing yourself on the way back, you decided it was high time you did.

Dick’s brain goes a mile a minute. Shower. Change. Underwear? His heart skitters but he doesn’t show it.

“Aw, don’t let me stop you. Feel free,” he teasingly sings.

Your eye twitches and you take it upon yourself to physically move him. Not that you could if he chose to actually resist. You know that he must be strong, stronger than ‘doing acrobatics as a hobby’ must make someone. You’ve caught a peek at his abdomen and biceps now and then. Guy is ripped.

“Go eat,” you order, throwing the takeout into his hand. “I got enough for the both of us.” Why, Dick could twirl his hair and kick his feet right now – despite a prickly exterior, you really were a sweetheart, weren’t you? He refuses to have you pay for him though. He will definitely be returning the favor thricefold.

You successfully shoo the six feet tall model out of your room.

Once he’s out, you take your shower, standing for five minutes in the spray until it grows warm. You think with amusement at the idea of movies and TV making women showering such a sexy, erotic scene. Bitch, you are in here scrubbing pots and pans.

After the job’s done, your feet land on your worn shower mat from college, and pad towards your bedroom once more. You catch a towel on your way there, belatedly remembering that Dick Grayson may still be loitering in your bedroom, and you weren’t too keen on the idea of him seeing your private bits. Warily shifting eyes from behind the door, you see no one’s around.

Knock knock.

“Are you done?”

Dick’s voice from the hallway makes you panic, fearful that he may burst in before you’re ready and presentable.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a woman while she’s getting ready in her boudoir!“ you yell, hoping some rich person’s instinct suddenly clicks in him. You thought rich men were supposed to be gentlemanly. Really, ever since meeting Dick, who is son to the richest man in the state, you’ve learned rich people all must be whiny, clingy, braggers, show-offs, and sometimes, just plain brats. In your hurry, you swipe a panty from your drawer and slip it on past your thighs. Body still damp from the shower, you don’t notice anything.

The rest of your clothes follow, and you choose to sit back down in your desk chair. You turn back to your double monitor set up, ready to become a screen zombie once more when you remember someone’s waiting for you.

Without turning around, you holler, “Come in.”

Without a moment’s pause, Dick reenters, takeout plated for the both of you in each hand. He places one smoothly in front of you with butler-like precision.

“Your meal, madam,” Dick says in a Parisian accent, and you do smile in amusement. His eyes dilate, but you don’t notice.

“Thank you, my fine sir,” you return, a little embarrassed, accent weak, but willing to keep up the bit.

Dick knows not to disturb you too much while you work, so he wanders away as you slip your headphones over your ears once more. But before returning to His Spot on the bed, he quietly treads to your dresser. He sneaks a glance to make sure you’re still occupied. And you are, that blue wash of light painting your skin.

He pulls out the drawer, and�� hhhhh.

He heaves with breath involuntarily, although it’s nearly imperceptible. You do make him slip more than he likes, but he’s experienced. He glances once more to make sure you didn’t hear that, and of course you didn’t. You’re still fiddling in Ableton Live.

He shuts the drawer and stalks to His Spot on the bed, and anyone who knows Dick Grayson would see that he is tense. He is stiff.

And how could he not be? You’re wearing the underwear he had cum on. Did you notice? Is this your way of coming onto him? No, you’re too forward to play games… Something he finds both refreshing and a shame, because he loves games. You simply mustn't have noticed. Regardless, the knowledge fills him with such ecstasy and arousal… and longing.

He eyes you discreetly as his skin reddens. He tries to act natural by eating steaming orange chicken, plucking it from his plate with a chopstick. One day, he’ll have you, in body and soul.

Until then, he can entertain himself with this game, however one-sided.

#yandere batfam #yandere dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader #really enjoyed writing a more mellow reader!#mine

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snowballseal · 2 months ago

Text

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?”

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that.

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look.

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

��I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.”

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit.

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question.

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly.

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework.

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers.

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

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bunnisari · 1 year ago

Text

❥MONDAY — c. springer

seven days a week.

PAIRINGS ✩ — plug!connie x fem!black!reader

WARNINGS ✩ — both are under influence, spitting, usage of 🍃, hair pulling if you squint, fuck idk i suck at warnings just smut at the end leave me alone i can’t deal rn + i’ll come back to edit

CONNIE has been unfocused more than usual. He has high energy usually and is bouncing from task to task but today, he can’t seem to grasp reality.

“Bro is you good?” Onyankopon says in between a laugh. He had been calling Connie’s name for about a minute. Connie looked up from the counter, multiple packs of weed sitting on the counter. Ony was looking back from his spot on the cream colored couch, his dark green tracksuit making him stand out.

“…Yeah” Connie nodded his head at him, continuing to place weed on a scale. “Yeah ight…i’ve been calling your name” Ony walks around to the kitchen island. “Well I didn’t hear you” Connie snaps back at him.

Ony smacks his teeth, bucking at Connie. “Yo sassy ass be around Sasha too much”. Connie shook his head. “You remember that one drop we did at Marco’s yesterday….” Connie suddenly brings up.

Ony looks up, thinking back to the previous day. The party was big, he gave a couple college girls a 3.5 then left by himself. “Yeah…why?” Ony asked in confusion, now wondering if something happened to make him bring it up. Ony and Connie were like brothers, they had committed to this game together. They protected each other all the time.

“Do you remember seeing Sasha with a girl wearing pink beside her?” Connie specifies, thinking back to his first time spotting you.

“Yeah you talking about Y/N?” Connie nods his head, Y/N

“What about her?”

“Nothing, jus asking” Connie lies to Ony. There was something. Connie’s mind had been suffocated by the thought of you. He remembers how you smiled at everyone Sasha introduced you to. He also remembered how you looked up into his eyes, yours red and low.

He told you his name and you told him his– atleast he thought you did. The music was playing so loud he didn’t hear you. But that was the last thing he was worried about, he was focused on the way you were staring him down.

Since he woke up this morning he’s been thinking about the mystery girl who sucked the soul out of him. The mystery girl who’s pussy was the wettest and warmest he’s ever been in.

He cried everytime he came that night, that’s never happened before. He hoped you didn’t notice, not wanting to creep you out. He also wondered if you enjoyed it as much as he did, and if you were thinking about this particular hookup all day as well.

He’s never felt anything like you before. You had to be a crystal bitch or somethingggg like pussy putting spells onna nigga🫃🫃

He just hopes he can meet you again, for a proper introduction.

❥

You sip on your Starbucks Frappuccino, two small Tiffany and Co. bags in your other hand. You were walking down a shopping outlet, deciding to spend your free time shopping. For the past couple of days, you’ve been straight partying. The most recent one was a bit memorable though. You were pretty cross faded and had some of the best sex in your life. You couldn’t exactly remember who it was with though. He was wearing light blue and white, you can accurately remember. Tattoos all over and he smelled amazing. But his name?…..can’t exactly remember that one. You just brushed it off though, maybe he’ll come around again but you weren’t worried.

Your phone started to vibrate in your back pocket. You grabbed it before reading the contact name, ‘Sash🫶🏾🤍’

You pressed the green icon, Sasha’s face appearing on the screen. “You gotta come to this kickback” She says before you can speak.

“Girlll, i’ve been out for days. I think I still have a hangover” You whined, looking up at the Coach sign before walking in. “Well it’s not like an actual kickback. Jean is just throwing a get together,” You sighed, looking down at Sasha as she was munching on some chips. “Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!! It’s gonna be like fifty people max” She pleaded, bringing her face super close to the camera.

“Okay fineee,” You groan, sipping the last of your Frappuccino. “What’s the dress code?”

“Mmmm… sexy casual” Sasha nodded her head. “Kk, I’m gonna finish up shopping babe. Send me the addy” You said your goodbyes before hanging up.

❥

Connie laid back on Jean’s couch manspreading. He had a blunt in one hand, the other resting on the couch. He had no tasks for the rest of the day and decided on stopping by Jean’s, a mutual friend.

His eyes were already red and low, he could start to feel his munchies kick in. He smoked the last of the roach before putting it out. There’s a good amount of people here. Maybe about 30 or 40.

Some people smoking hookah in the corner, some outside just chatting. The vibe was calmer than what the house parties he usually attends are.

“Ay Con!” Connie looks back from his spot on the couch. “Come take a shot!” Eren called him over,holding up a shot glass. Connie wasn’t much of a drinker but did every once in a while. It simply wasn’t for him. Standing up and walking over to the island, he hears a familiar voice speaking from the door.

“Wowwww shots without us?!” Sasha walks over from the door, you trailing behind her. Connie can feel his heartbeat pick up. It’s you. Your now standing infront of him, looking 10x more stunning.

“Y’all remember Y/N” Sasha gestured to you while snatching the bottle from Eren.

“Hey” You flashed a smile that made Connie jr harden just a bit. Your eyes wandered around the room. Not too many people, but enough for you to have to raise your voice a little if you’re trying to have a conversation.

Your eyes stopped on a pair that were only staring right back at you. You could feel your breath hitch. Holy shit no way

❥

The night has been filled with pure tension. Sexual tension at that. You’ve come to find out that ,mystery boy with a huge dick, name is actually Connie. The entire night he’s had his eyes on you, both of you keeping eye contact. A part of you kept wanting to look back from your spot on the couch. You’d only immediately find his eyes. It was as if you were silently conversing. You both wanted more of eachother, but how do you approach your “one” night stand asking for just another round.

“Imma go get a refill” You say to Jean, passing him the hookah. He nodded before continuing to converse with Sasha.

You walked into the kitchen, holding your red cup in one hand. Much to your surprise, Connie was the only one in the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter, his head down and all his attention focused on the blunt he was currently rolling.

You walk over to where all the bottles were, Connie’s head immediately lifting as he gets a whiff of sweet perfume. You smile to yourself when you feel his stare on you. You pour a little hennessy in your cup before turning around.

Connie’s looking at you with his eyes low and redder than before. You keep eye contact with him as you sip from your cup. Your gloss staining your cup.

Connie watches you closely, focusing on every single detail about you. He’s wondering what makes you so different from any other girl he’s been with.

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You decide to speak first, breaking the ice. Connie can feel his dick twitch at the sound of your voice, a slight rasp from the burning of the alcohol.

Your thighs clench together as you watch Connie lick his lips. “Shit…..guess I was waiting for you to come to me.” His voice coming out low and deep.

The tension in the kitchen is so high right now, even Ony who’s sitting on the couch can feel it.

A lazy smile breaks out on your face, Connie’s too as he licks the blunt. His eyes never look away from yours, dragging his tongue across the wood. You can even see his tongue piercing that was deep in your pus-

“Mhmm, well i’m here now so…” You trail off, walking a bit closer to him. You can smell his cologne from where you stand. Your intoxication was making this no better for you, as well as the PartyNextDoor that’s playing in the background.

You watch as Connie lights his blunt. He brings it to his lips before puffing twice, just to make sure it’s lit. He sucks in a breath before blowing the smoke out. He reaches his hands out, holding out the blunt to you.

You hesitate before moving closer, taking it from him. You reach for a napkin to wipe your lipgloss off but Connie only grabs your wrist. “You don’t have too, i’m okay with it”

“Oh…okay” You bring the blunt up to your lips, the smoke immediately making you cough. “God damn, strong ass…” You can’t finish your sentence through a fit of coughs. Connie lightly laughs as he reaches to grab an unopened water bottle on the counter.

You could already feel like you were baked off of just one hit, your eyes looking a little sleepy. “I’m already high what the fuck…” You blinked up at Connie.

“I guess i’m just used to it” He hits it again. “You’re literally smoking the devils lettuce. That shit came straight from hell” You take a gulp of water.

Connie could tell you were a lot less tense. For some reason you trusted him like a lot… even though you’ve never had a full conversation with him.

“I enjoyed last night a lot” You lean against the counter, head tilting. You know that you’re being bold all of a sudden but fuck, this man was too fine.

Behind his faux chill demeanor, Connie was freaking out. He wanted to feel you again. He never wanted you to stop talking and he could look at you for hours.

“Yeah, me too” He’s fighting his anxiety, trying not to seem to excited to be talking to you. He was praying, even crossing his toes that he would be able to get another look at your naked body.

You bit on your lower lip, contemplating on whether or not you should keep making the moves.

“I’m gonna…go to the bathroom” You trail off, not giving Connie another word before walking off with your cup.

Connie almost jumps off the counter, fighting the urge to throw his rolling tray to the side and follow you right to the bathroom. He wanted you to keep talking to him. Connie watched you walk up the stairs, he couldn’t miss this opportunity.

❥

“Fuck, talk to me mama” Connie breathes into your ear, your hair roughly tangled around his fist. You can feel him in your stomach, punching your cervix over and over.

“Ah-mmph..I can’t” Your hands hold onto the sink, grasping it harder than you can grasp reality.

Connie feels a bit bad that he wishes he didn’t have on a condom right now, wanting to feel you raw.

“Yes you can, you are now —fuck— aren’t ya?” Connie taunts you, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “I don’t want p-people to hear” Your head rests on Connie’s shoulder.

“Why not? Don’t want anyone to know how much of a slut you are?” Your eyebrows furrow, you were pretty sure you saw tears falling down Connie’s eyes the first time you hooked up. You clenched around him purposely, earning a whine from him.

“Oh i’m a slut?” You lifted your head back up to look at him in the mirror. You used Connie’s vulnerable state to push him off of you, giving him no time to be confused before you drop to your knees.

“What the– fuck” Connie groans out. You watch as this grown man literally slaps his hand over his mouth. Your tongue runs up his cock, licking up all your wetness. You rise up, peeling Connie’s hand off of his mouth. He watched you intently. You squished his cheeks together before spitting your wetness in his mouth.

A part of you feels really really slutty. No man has really made you feel like this. Yeah sure you wanted him but you wanted him to chase after you, not the other way around.

You watch Connie swallow with no hesitation. “You’re cool and all Connie, but I don’t even know you. It’ll take a little more than a blunt.” You watch Connie’s mouth open agape.

He was very very confused. He thought you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. You let him eat you out before letting him put his dick inside you. Then you suddenly stop him? What the fuck-

“Just letting you know, i’m a bit expensive” You fix your clothes and hair in the mirror.

“Bye Connie” You sweetly say, before exiting the bathroom, leaving Connie with a rock hard erection.

“Fuck i’m too high for this” Connie face palms himself. No way he just let a girl edge him.

@getoscrybaby @ginger4sugar @cybercandy1 @rintcrous @conniesministallion @junevenile @yourrfavzxri @reinerszn @lowkeysumgyall @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @royalty-cashinout @lovelytayy @starpdfs @syarblu @urmotherswhor3 @simp4tenko @emery-333 @hopefuloperaangelnerd @pinkfqiry @donutsrsweetbagels @katymae12344@urivl @mdibby @dezibou @dramaticOflwer @animeloverzx @y3rn4y0n yOn @honeyxluv @jupittterrrrr @iikatsukii @glossygirrll @severenswife @h3v3n1y + many more beautiful people <3

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nickfowlerrr · 4 months ago

Text

when you’re ready, come and get it

GIF by spaceslayer

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: no explicit smut. sexual content. some fluff. 18+ only.

words: 4.7k

notes: another random two am fic drop - who’s surprised? the starting dialogue of this fic had been sitting in my docs for almost two years and i finally got around to actually writing something for it lol. i hope you like it! thank you in advance for reading. as always, any comments and reblogs are always welcomed and so appreciated. let me know your thoughts! 🩵

Your back is sore as you head toward the door of the cramped little apartment you’re stuck in for the night.

Safe ‘house’ your ass.

“You had to use all the hot water?” Bucky yells from the bathroom you exited only minutes ago. You smirk to yourself and roll your eyes as you reach for the handle of the front door, “You’ll live,” you yell back, letting the closing of the door behind you signal your exit.

You’re in sweats and a long sleeve, sneakers on your feet and your phone in your pocket as you begin the short walk to the Chinese restaurant just down the street from the building you're staying in.

It’s been a long, grueling day and you are starving.

The further down the street you get, the closer the smell of the food - it keeps you moving despite the aches that are wrecking your body. Unsurprisingly, getting shoulder tackled by a super soldier leaves you a little worse for wear.

You almost groan out loud at the thought of him.

You have no idea how you’re going to get through this night.

It’s dark out, but the street lights gleaming off the wet pavement and the storefront signs of the few places still open light your way. At least it stopped raining.

You recognize the name of the shop, stop in front of the door and head in. The entrance bell jingles and a young man comes out from the back to greet you. You give him your name and only have to wait a minute before he comes back with the bag of food you ordered before your shower.

Your stomach growls as you start back down to the apartment.

All you want to do is climb into that bed, pop some advil, scarf down this food, and hopefully sleep off the pain you can feel creeping up your body, slowly but surely.

Your hunger again encourages your speed and before you can get lost in any thoughts, you’re back at the front door.

You unlock it and unthinkingly push it open with your shoulder. You grimace and bite back a growl at the pain that radiates up your neck and down your arm, and at the memory of being sent flying into trunks and boxes lining a cement wall, which you also ended up colliding with.

You sigh and shut the door, locking it behind you. You set the food down on the dark wooden table in the area you call the kitchen. You begin to take the containers out before you turn around to face the bed.

Your eyes narrow in on him instantly as annoyance surges in your veins at the sight before you.

“What are you doing?” you ask sharply, an accusation in your tone.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he replies without looking up from the tablet he’s working on. His hair is damp, a mess of dark brown he keeps behind his ears and out of his face. His brows are furrowed as he reads, all the while he’s laying with his ankles crossed, relaxing on the bed shirtless with his grey sweats low on his hips. Fucking hell.

You bite your tongue, fighting the scowl threatening to take over your face.

“Laying down in my bed, that’s what it looks like.”

“Who said it was your bed?” he challenges, finally looking up at you.

“I did. Just now. And also when we first got here two hours ago,” you point out.

“Well, it’s a good thing you have absolutely no authority over me, then, huh,” he smirks tauntingly as he tosses the tablet to the side.

“Get out of the bed, Barnes.”

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, sweetheart, but I’m not moving.”

He crosses his arms like a defiant toddler, his blue eyes almost twinkling with a dare to challenge him, self assured as he always is in your arguments. You lick your lip,

“I mean it, I’m not getting on the floor.”

He shrugs, “Don’t care. Not my problem.”

You can feel your skin getting hot from your irritation and your neck straining as you tense. You really aren’t in the mood for this. You can’t fight right now.

Well…you could. But you won’t. You have food to eat, you can argue who sleeps where later.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, “Jackass.”

You ignore him and walk into the bathroom without closing the door behind you. You wet your hands for a second under the sink water and then pump the sweet smelling soap into them, lathering up and washing your hands. Despite the sound of the running water, you can clearly hear the crinkling of the plastic bag that contains the food as you imagine Bucky is sorting through it all. You finish washing and turn the water back off.

“Don’t touch my lo mein,” you warn him, voice raised as you dry your hands on a towel.

You lean your head out past the door and see him as he twirls some noodles from your container.

“Jackass!” you accuse, throwing the towel down and marching from the bathroom right toward him.

“Don’t be greedy,” he chastises through his bite before grabbing his own container, unphased by your reproach.

“Greedy? As if you don’t have your own food.”

“Sharing is caring,” he taunts before he walks back over to the bed.

Your eyes follow him in disbelief. He sits back in his spot and makes himself comfortable. You scoff before turning back to the table. You grab your opened container and the pack of utensils the restaurant gave you and walk over to the bed, too. You feel Bucky’s eyes on you as you get to the other side of the bed.

“I told you I’m not moving.”

“And I told you I’m not sleeping on the floor. You can do whatever the hell you want.”

“So we’re sharing, then?” he asks. The smile pulling at the corner of his lips is easily pushed aside by you. You don’t want to read into it, so you won’t.

You twirl some lo mein and take a bite, “Sharing is caring,” you echo him as you make yourself comfortable.

You lean over and grab the remote to the 40 inch television hung on the wall across from you. You can complain about the tight quarters and the singular bed, but at least the place is relatively liveable. The tv was a surprise, but welcomed.

You leave it on the channel it lights up on, reruns of some procedural you’ve seen a hundred times over.

You eat in uncharacteristic silence, but every so often you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you. You don’t return his gaze, instead staying focused on your food and trying not to show your discomfort when the pain in your shoulder and neck blooms deeper as the night goes on. You’re grateful he seems to be worn from the mission, too. If he wasn’t, you know he’d have found something to pick with you about by now.

An hour passes and you’re both done with your food. You throw your trash away and head to the bathroom. You leave the door open as you brush your teeth and Bucky enters just as you finish. He watches you intently as you take a pain pill before shoving the bottle, along with the rest of your toiletries, back in your bag. Still, he’s quiet. You would normally call him out for his silence and staring, but you don’t have it in you to start something right now.

You turn to walk out of the bathroom and accidentally bump into him as he moves to step toward the sink.

You hiss at the pain it sends through you, so quiet that had it been anyone else, they wouldn’t have even noticed the sound that escaped you. But this wasn’t anyone else.

You don’t stop walking after you bump into him, just head back toward the bed without pause. Trying to act like nothing happened and that you are perfectly fine. Which you are! Aside from the stabbing pain radiating up and down your arm... you’re good.

You pull the comforter out all around the bed - better to avoid any tugging and pulling in front of Bucky if you can.

As you’re about to climb onto the bed, Bucky emerges from the bathroom. Still shirtless, still oddly silent. It’s starting to get a little unnerving now.

Slowly, you lay down, being careful not to move too fast and doing your best to not move your arm too much.

Bucky gets into bed beside you. You don’t want to, yet you can’t help but notice how gingerly he climbs in. As if he’s trying to make as little movement as possible.

You try to get comfortable, it’s not the first time you’ve had to share a bed on a mission, but with Bucky there’s always that extra heat…tension. Your pointless arguing about who will sleep where, both of you knowing you’ll end up sharing again only to vow the next morning to get the bed to yourself the next time you find yourselves in this situation, it’s damn near routine now. And yet, the tension remains. And the pain you’re feeling isn’t helping in the slightest.

Neither is his shirtlessness. He’s always like a furnace but somehow it feels like he’s radiating even more heat without the barrier of a shirt. You’d love to pull off your own, but the tightness in your shoulder would definitely protest the motion.

“You alright?”

Bucky’s voice breaks the silence. His tone is soft, voice quiet, but it still startles you a bit, catches you off guard.

“Uhm,” you breathe, hesitating, “I, uhm… ‘m fine,” you whisper back. His eyes are on you, you can feel them, but you don’t turn to look back at him.

A beat.

“Would you mind getting the light?” you ask in the same hushed tone.

Another beat.

The bed creaks a bit as Bucky gets up without a word.

The light cuts out and the television is the only thing left glowing in the darkened space of the studio.

He gets back into the bed, being just as careful as he was before, and grabs the remote you left in the space between you. He shuts off the tv and you take a breath, relaxing a bit now that you know he can’t really see you all too well.

You grimace as you readjust your head and shoulders under the pillow.

Ow.

You lay in silence. In pain and discomfort.

…You have some arnica in your bag you could roll on, but that would give you away in a second. You could roll onto your side but then you’d be facing Bucky and you don’t want to make things awkward…er.

You wait a few minutes before you peek over to him in the dark. From what you can tell, his eyes are closed, his breathing seems steady… Fuck it, you think. Whether he’s sleeping or not, you don’t want to feel this any longer than you have to. You quietly push the comforter off of yourself, kicking it off your feet, and delicately roll yourself up.

You keep the layout of the space in mind as you navigate around in the dark. You’re tiptoeing carefully, hopeful you haven’t accidentally woken him up as a floorboard creaks beneath you when you get to the table you left your bag on.

You find your toiletries bag and feel around until your hands grasp your roll-on. You walk lightly back over to the bed where you sit down.

You unscrew the cap and start rolling the cooling bliss up your neck and on your shoulder - the small part of it that’s exposed by your shirt, at least.

You sigh to yourself and loosely put the cap back on, dropping the bottle beside you.

Fuck it, you think again. Shirt’s comin’ off.

As soon as the material of your long sleeve is over your head, the lights come back on, eliciting a harsh gasp from you as you jerk your head in the direction of the light switches.

“Fucking hell, Bucky!” You chastise as you bring a hand up to rub at your neck. You moved too quickly when the lights came on and now a new wave of tension stabs at your neck and shoulder once more.

How the hell he managed to get out of the bed and across the room without you hearing is beyond you, but you aren’t really all that surprised.

“So when you said you were fine,” he walks back over to the bed, “what you meant was..?”

“Was that I’m fine,” you repeat yourself firmly, head downcast as you keep your back to him.

The smallest bit of self consciousness flares inside of you as you realize you’re in only a bra and sweats as he’s free to scan your body behind you, but you quickly decide you don’t care. You’re more focused on the strain and his apparent concern for you.

The bed moves and you feel the roll on being grabbed from beside your thigh. Bucky is right behind you now; you feel yourself freeze and inadvertently tense even more.

You inhale sharply as his hand meets your skin. You don’t move as his finger slips down the strap of your bra. You listen intently as he unscrews the cap and you sigh again as he moves the arnica roll on up and over your shoulder, just slightly down the slope of it, and then back up toward your neck as you let your arm relax, and then your head as you tilt it in the opposite direction to allow him more access to your neck. God, that feels good.

“I didn’t mean for you to get hurt,” he says quietly.

You furrow your brow. “I know that.”

“We didn’t have time, I wasn’t thinking,” he starts.

“I was directly in their line of fire, Bucky, I know.” You reach back and take the bottle from him, he lets you as you keep your gaze in front of you and your back to him. “Is that why you’ve been so quiet?” you laugh softly, “You felt bad about pushing me?”

You screw the cap back on and toss it, along with your shirt, gently to the floor beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, ignoring your questions.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You finally turn to face him, moving your whole body, bringing a knee up on the bed as you climb back onto the mattress. “You saved my life…again,” you add. “Thank you.”

Bucky scoffs as he sits back on his haunches, still facing you. The mentholy smell of the arnica rub is thick in the air, but you don’t mind it. You look at him, his hair still a mess, his normally icy blue eyes just the tiniest bit darker now. You force yourself to look away before your gaze once again drifts down to his solid chest.

You huff as you lay back down in your spot. The roll on and the advil you took earlier are helping with the pain, but the tightness is still bothersome.

“Still?” Bucky asks with a raised brow.

You roll your eyes. “Not all of us have super healing abilities, Barnes.”

His tongue mindlessly wets his lips as he considers you. “Turn over,” he tells you, his long hidden Brooklyn accent making its rare appearance. Your lips twitch at the sound. One of the reasons you enjoy arguing with him so often is because of that damn voice. His accent gets thicker when you’re in your back and forths… You’re hit with realization then of what he just said and you’re sure your confusion is written clear as day on your face as you give him a look,

“Sorry?”

“Turn over,” he repeats.

“Wha-,” you titter nervously, looking up at him as he stays on his knees next to you. “Why?” you question.

“Would you just listen to me for once? Turn over before I turn you over,” he orders.

You ignore the tingle in your belly…and lower, at his instruction and the easy air of authority his voice so effortlessly holds. Half the time it irritates you, but the other half, though you try to push it away, gets you feeling like this.

You swallow thickly and blink away from his intent gaze before you slowly move to turn yourself over without causing any pain.

You take a shaky breath you hope he doesn’t notice as you adjust yourself, trying not to smother your face in the pillow.

You’re not sure what he’s going to do, your body is buzzing with the unknown, your nerves are on edge, but here you are following his orders nonetheless.

The bed shifts as Bucky moves closer and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel his touch again. You shudder as he lets his hand ghost from your trap, over your shoulder, and down your arm. The bed shifts again as Bucky straddles you. You can feel his warmth radiating off of him, his knees on either side of your body.

“Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You breathe, and stay quiet. Bucky waits a moment longer before he continues.

It starts slow, his touch soft yet firm as his hands massage you. Your eyes close without your permission as you exhale a heavy breath. This is good. Really good. His hands are like magic as he applies just the right amount of pressure to your back. He works a tight spot and another heavy breath leaves you.

Oh fuck… that wasn’t a heavy breath.

That was a moan.

It doesn’t stop him, but you, you’re mortified. Your eyes snap open and you hurriedly try to push yourself up. It’s to no avail. Bucky keeps you down easily with just one hand on your back, the other lightly squeezing your shoulder. Your heart is going to beat out of your chest. You don’t really know what it is you’re feeling right now, but you think it might just be the end of you.

He’s essentially on top of you. and he’s warm. and strong. and even beneath him, he smells so damn good.

You don’t feel helpless often, but right now, under Bucky, being kept in place like this by him, you do. Like prey caught by a predator…

Except you don’t feel scared.

Embarrassed, but not scared.

In fact with Bucky, you always feel safe, protected. Like earlier today. He had your back, he was watching out for you, like he always does, whether you’re fighting or not. He’s always there.

He squeezes your shoulder soothingly just a bit more, “Relax,” he eases, his thumb rubbing into your tight muscle. You force yourself to breathe again and relax back down into the bed.

You do feel a little helpless, but god help you, you think you like it.

“This is okay?” he asks, voice deeper now as he starts massaging your back again, working a little deeper.

It takes you a second to voice your affirmation, and it comes out as more of a deep hum, but he takes it.

Your lashes flutter once more and you sigh, another soft moan slipping from you as Bucky adds slightly more pressure. His hands move a little lower as he works at the tension in your back, and he leans in a little closer as he speaks again.

“This okay?” he rasps in your ear.

Your breath hitches as you slacken even deeper into the bed.

“Yes,” you murmur headily. It’s not just from his touch, it’s that it’s his touch. You’ve done this dance with him before, but you’ve never gotten quite this close. You’ve shared heated moments, wistful stares, lingering touches, almost kisses, hell you’ve woken up in his arms before on nights like this, but it’s never been quite like this.

The base of his palm rubs at a particularly tight spot. He massages you carefully… and when you suddenly feel his lips press against the skin of your shoulder, you can’t help but whimper at the contact. You think maybe you’re imagining things, that his touch just feels so good it’s causing all these thoughts to run wild in your head…

Then you feel his fingers brush against the band of your bra.

“Bucky…” you waver.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathes.

You don’t even give yourself a second to catch up before you respond.

“No,” you mew.

His hands squeeze your soft waist and his lips brush your skin gently. Another weak moan leaves you.

Bucky smoothly unclasps your bra and his hands ghost over your back as he pushes it off of you.

His touch falls to your hip where he takes hold of you once more. You can so easily feel his strength in his grip before he pulls you lightly to turn over toward him.

You do just that, slowly and carefully, until you find yourself right beneath him, his heavy lidded eyes set on you, his lips parted as he takes you in beneath him.

Your hands find the waistband of his sweats and you pull him closer to you. He lowers himself down and your noses brush as he comes in even closer. You’ve wanted this for so long. You breathe each other in for a moment before your eyes close and your lips finally touch. It’s soft and hesitant, just a single kiss. Then another. And another. And then all at once, it’s a whirlwind of fervency. Your hand is crawling in his hair as you hold him closer. You try to lean up into him, but he stops you and follows you back down until your head is resting on the pillow. You murmur your protest and you can feel Bucky’s smirk against your lips. He kisses you one more time, deep and lingering, before he finally pulls away. You’re breathing harder, looking up at him with nothing but want and desire swimming in your gaze.

He lifts a hand to rub at your shoulder gently and you sigh at the feeling.

“Feels better?”

“Yeah,” you breathe with a light nod.

“Good,” he breathes in turn. Your brows furrow in confusion when he moves from above you and instead lays down next to you on the bed. You had a different idea of where things were about to go…

Your bra is halfway off and you don’t know whether you want to remove it completely or pull it back on. Oh god… maybe this was all just a dream, your fantasy playing out all too realistically and tricking you.

While your mind is worrying itself, Bucky rolls onto his side, facing you, and gets your attention. His hand comes to rest on your lower tummy, smoothing over to your hip. “I didn’t realize you’d gotten hurt earlier,” his voice is low and sincere. “I really am sorry.”

You watch him bring his hand over to the strap of your bra, the cool metal chilling your skin as he drags it down your arm. You don’t stop him as he does, instead you let the other strap fall further down your arm before you pull it off altogether and drop it off the bed and onto the floor. He moves in closer to you and his eyes fall to your lips. He inches closer before kissing you again. His hand ghosts up your waist as you murmur against his lips, “‘s’okay,” you shake your head at his needless apology, kissing him back. His wandering hand cups your full breast and he kneads it, your nipples peaking at his attention. You moan into the kiss, getting a low groan from Bucky in turn as he deepens it, and you attempt to roll onto your side and into him to be even closer.

Again, Bucky easily stops your movement, gently pushing you back down, but not breaking the kiss as he follows you.

“Wha?” you mumble, pulling away from him, “What?”

You’re getting more confused and frustrated the longer this goes on.

He laughs and your eyes narrow at that goddamned smirk on his face.

“Look, sweetheart, as much as I’d love to take this further,” he simpers, bringing a hand to caress your cheek softly, “you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you argue back.

“Just lay down,” he laughs again, “relax. You’re gonna be even more sore in the morning. You don’t need me making it worse.”

“I can take it,” you try to argue again, to defend yourself, really.

“I’m sure you can,” he allows with a soft smirk, “But if you’ve been feeling this between us for as long as I have, two more days of waiting ‘ll be nothing.”

You pout. “Right,” you say unbelievingly. You turn your head back so you’re facing the ceiling. “Tease,” you mutter under your breath - knowing full well he can hear you.

“Pot, meet kettle,” he scoffs.

You roll your eyes and let your head fall to the side to look at him again.

“You need sleep,” he says softly, leaning in close to you again. You reach to touch his face, his cheeks stubbly.

“Would you get the light?” you ask in the same tone.

Bucky leans in and places a chaste kiss on your lips. He hums quietly, licking his lips as he pulls away and sits up. “I’m gonna be kissing you all the time now, you know that, right?”

You breathe a laugh, smiling softly as you watch him get up and go turn off the lights.

You pull the comforter up and over yourself, keeping one foot out so as not to overheat too quickly.

Bucky shuts off the lights and gets back into the bed, sliding in next to you under the covers.

He gets comfortable in his spot and after a few seconds, you slowly inch closer to him. Your hand touches his as you both lay on your backs. You get closer until you finally decide to turn toward him. Sleeping on your side will be a lot more comfortable, and -

Bucky cuts off your train of thought as he suddenly, but gently, pulls you into him, allowing your head to rest on his chest as he keeps a protective arm around you.

“We both know we’re gonna wake up like this anyway,” he says, finishing your thought without knowing it.

You fight your smile as you curl into him, finding the most comfortable spot for both of you. The skin to skin contact is intimate and so natural, you don’t even give it a second thought as you start to drift off into sleep. You feel Bucky press a tender kiss on your forehead and the warmth that flows through you is undeniable.

Just like you two.

You’ve both known it for some time, you just never wanted to make the wrong move. But this is it, here and now.

Undeniable.

God, you’re getting too hot already. If this had been any other night from your past “sleepovers” you’d probably just try and deal. But tonight, and every night from now on if you’re lucky, is different. You move just a bit and Bucky doesn’t object. Slowly, you start shimmying down your sweats until you’re able to just kick them off under the covers. You were planning on losing them earlier anyway, why should you be self conscious now.

Plus, Bucky did accuse you of being a tease not fifteen minutes ago. If he thought anything you ever did before could come close to his touches tonight, he had no idea.

And Bucky’s right, you’ll be waking up like this come the morning no matter how you go to bed. You in his arms, in nothing but a pair of cute underwear, would certainly be a good morning. And then you’ll see how he really feels about waiting another day or two to finally be with each other the way you’ve been wanting for so long.

Now you know better than to underestimate Bucky’s patience, but telling from the bulge growing in his sweats as his hand wanders over your hip and squeezes your bottom while your fingers dance along his midsection, ghosting lower and lower as you feel his muscles tense…you think you might just get it sooner rather than later.

But either way, you smile softly, cuddling into Bucky as he pulls your body closer, you know you’ll both get what you want.

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x curvy reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot

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btsgotjams27 · 1 year ago

Text

the back-up plan | jjk

summary: one drunken night leads to an agreement that if you and jungkook are still single by 30, you'd marry each other. the only thing is jungkook has been doing everything he can to keep you single.

💖 title: the back-up plan | one-shot 💖 pairing: jungkook x f!reader | 💖 genre/au: romance, fluff / friends to lovers(?) 💖 rating: SFW | 18+ | 💖 word count: 18.1k | 💖 playlist 💖 warnings: jungkook & reader are both 29, reader is a hopeless romantic (what else is new with my characters?), jungkook is always pining and head over heels in love, jungkook is sweet and in luvrrr but he’s bad at feelings and tells some terrible lies (don’t hate him—ok!!), reader has a skewed view of relationships and what's expected of her, jungkook calls her wifey, hot and seggsy neighbor!namjoon (yes, pls), shirtless namjoon (2x), kissing, hand-holding, some suggestive language, mentions of erotic art and positions, first dates, alcohol consumption, reader has her belly button pierced, talks of tattoos & getting them, mentions of needles, and idk some things may come off as cheesy??? but it's a romance story so idk take what you will, light angst (you should know me by now!!), jungkook gets a lil drunk (pls drink responsibly), jealous jk comes out, love confessions 💖 a/n: the plot is a bit ridiculous, but that's the point! it's fiction (lol), i hope y'all enjoy it for what it is. the idea came from a tweet I saw, but ofc, I can't find it! so thank you to whoever tweeted it! and, happy birthday to the loml, jeon jungkook (this was supposed to be out for his birthday, but my brain said no). i also have to thank holly (@alphabetboyluvr). i respect her so much as a writer and friend, and I was super scared to ask her to even look at my outline, but she's always so sweet and willing. i couldn't have done this without her help, her comments, and suggestions <3 (i'd also recommend listening to the playlist while reading :)) and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts 💖

sunday.

Another day has passed, and it’s creeping closer to your birthday. They’re supposed to be joyous, celebratory occasions–and you love feeling special, showered with love and gifts. What more could a person want?

But you had a clear goal before hitting the big 3-0: get married–or at least be engaged to be married.

Most girlfriends your age were still having fun, enjoying life, and not ready to settle down. You’re unsure if your upbringing or society’s expectations distorted you, but you were fond of marriage and finding the one to spend your life with.

You also blamed the hopeless romantic in you when you dragged every one of your girlfriends with you to see the new romantic comedy, giggled, and kicked your feet when reading the latest best-selling romance novel.

The thing was, you were so close to getting engaged. You and your boyfriend, Theo, of eight months–well, ex-boyfriend–discussed it openly from the beginning of your relationship. And not even two weeks ago, he broke up with you out of the blue and gave no clear explanation.

You sat in bed debating whether to download your old dating apps again. Your birthday was in six days, and you knew you wouldn’t find a suitable mate before your birthday, but at least you could try, right?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 PM Happy ‘almost 30th’ birthday.

You 11:28 PM 😭😭😭

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:28 PM Are you still crying over Theodore Boner?

You 11:29 PM It’s Bonner, not boner!

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:29 PM 🤣🤣🤣 You were saved from that one. Imagine having the last name Boner.

You rolled your eyes at the text from Jungkook, throwing your phone beside you as you curled under your duvet.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

“What do you want, Kook?”

“You gotta admit, ____ Boner sounds awful,” Jungkook laughed as he pushed back in his recliner.

“I’m hanging up!” you threatened, getting ready to push the end button.

"No, no! I'm kidding. You would've made a great Mrs. Boner."

"Bye–Kook."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm done, I promise."

"I had a whole plan. What am I supposed to do now? My birthday is in six days," you groaned, covering your face with the duvet.

"You don't remember our agreement, do you?"

You brought the cover down. Curious about his comment. "What agreement?"

💖💖💖

Before this most recent one, your ex, Jimin, had broken up with you, and you were on the rebound, looking for a good time. Jungkook came to the rescue, saving you from your next mistake. He took you out for drinks, let you drown in your sorrows, and the two of you got pretty drunk. You could only remember bits and pieces of your conversation.

“Let’s get married if we’re still single by 30,” Jungkook suggests.

“You wanna marry me? But I’m such a mess.”

Your dating life, career, friends, and family were fine.

“Yeah, why not. We get along. You seem a little kinky in bed and make a mean spaghetti dish.”

“Is that all I’m good for? Sex and spaghetti?”

“That sounds like a bad porn film waiting to happen. No, but I'm serious. If we're still single, let’s get married.”

You wave him off. “Kook, you’re drunk. You’re just saying whatever.”

“Yeah, I'm drunk, but I'm serious about this.”

He gets up, looks around, sees a straw wrapper, and ties it around your finger. He's on one knee before you.

“____, will you marry me? Hypothetically, of course, if we’re both still single by 30.”

You shake your head at your loveable friend. It was hard to say no. How could you?

“You’re so dumb.”

“See. You can write that in your vows,” Jungkook jokes, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, you are pretty cute, and I can stand being around you,” you tease.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

You smack his arm. “Is this how you’re wooing your future wife?”

“Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I can’t believe how beautiful my future wife is.”

You’re unsure if it’s the alcohol making you susceptible and vulnerable to your good friend asking you to marry him or if it was because you were on the rebound. But what’s the harm? If you couldn’t find someone by 30, then you’d get to marry a good friend.

“That's more like it. Why yes, Jeon Jungkook. I will marry you if I'm still single by 30.”

💖💖💖

You let out a cackle. “Oh shit–I agreed to that?”

Jungkook pouts and nods. “Sure did.”

But Jungkook’s messing around, right? He was a good friend and comforted you in your time of need. There’s no way he’d want to spend the rest of his life with you. Plenty of suitable women were fawning over him, and now you’ve noticed you've never seen him with a girlfriend.

“You’re–you’re not serious, are you?” You stumble over your words, going into panic mode.

Why would Jeon Jungkook choose you, of all people, to want to marry? He could have anyone at any time.

No, you shook off the thought. You couldn’t lock him into a loveless marriage.

Jungkook licks his lips, tongue flicking his lip ring back and forth.

You shifted in bed and cleared your throat. “Aren’t you seeing that one girl?”

It wasn’t hard to notice when she practically hung onto him like a lovesick puppy.

Jungkook makes a face, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious.”

You give him a blank expression. “Nothing serious? Kook, she’s practically foaming at the mouth and shooting heart eyes when you’re around.”

Jungkook chuckles. “That could be you, too.”

You narrow your eyes, glaring at him.

“Just saying,” he adds.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to get in the way if it is serious.” You surely didn’t want to become a homewrecker.

He waves his hand. “Oh, no, no, no. I don’t back down from promises I make.”

Your lips turn into a pout, and you tilt your head, wondering why he’d ditch Clingy Chloe and commit to a drunken promise. “What’s in it for you?”

He seems offended by your question, so he scoffs. “I mean, I’m just trying to save you from a future where you’re an old lady with 50 cats, collecting newspapers that pile up from the floor to the ceiling, and then you show up on an episode of Hoarders.”

You chuckle. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“You’re not?” he questions hesitantly.

“I mean, marriage is a pretty serious thing, and we’re friends getting married because we have no one else?” The sentiment seems ridiculous once you say it aloud.

“What? You don’t think I'll be a good husband?”

“No, I didn't say that. I think you’d be a great one, actually.”

“Then, what’s the problem? Don’t think you can handle me?” Jungkook wiggles his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes at your cocky friend. “I don’t know, Kook. What if I meet someone, or what if you meet someone?”

“You don’t think I can make you fall in love with me?” he asks, ignoring your question.

Your nose scrunches, and you laugh. “No.”

“Oh, well, that sounds like a challenge, and you’re lucky I love a little competition.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

You settle into the plush of your pillows. “Okay–tell you what, if you can make me fall in love with you within the week, I’ll consider marrying you.”

What would you have to lose? Being wined and dined by a cute guy? What girl would pass up this opportunity?

“Deal.”

💖💖💖

monday.

Your everyday routine consists of rolling out of bed, logging into work, checking your emails, and then sitting on the couch until you get a support ticket from someone who forgot their password for the umpteenth time.

It’s a great gig, and now you’re glad you went into the right field of work.

You’re on your random binge of rewatching The Fast and the Furious saga. Your friends always make fun of you, but you can’t help it. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours.

“You got some sexy legs. When do they open?” Roman says with a grin.

You burst out laughing. The dialogue is so bad, yet somehow, these movies keep getting made. You must be the target audience.

The doorbell rings and it’s 8:30 AM. Who is here this early? You didn’t buy anything online while you were drunk, did you?

You peek through the viewfinder, and it’s blocked by something yellow. You can’t see the delivery person’s face when you open the door.

“Special delivery for ___,” the person says in a deep voice.

“That’s me.”

And out from behind the flowers, Jeon Jungkook pops out. “Happy birthday week,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Your heart settles when you realize it's your friend or future husband. “What are you doing here?”

You notice two grocery bags on the ground next to him. He hands you the flowers and picks them up.

“What do you think I’m doing here?” He raises his eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe.

Real clothes and makeup don’t exist when you're working from home.

“Cute slippers,” he points out as you stare at your fluffy white bunny slippers.

You sigh, grabbing his arm to drag him into your apartment. As you’re about to close the door, you notice moving boxes outside the apartment next to yours. Hmm, someone new must be moving in.

“Is this what you look like underneath all that makeup?” he asks, making himself comfortable in your kitchen. The two bags are on the counter, and he’s going through the cupboards to find a vase.

“Top left above the sink,” you say.

He opens the cupboard, retrieving a clear vase.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting company. Otherwise, I would’ve put on some decent clothing.”

And a bra, you think as you cross your arms, covering your chest.

Jungkook shakes his head. “You look good in anything, and with or without makeup. You’ll be my future wifey, so there’s no need to look for good me. We can just be comfortable with each other, right?”

You purse your lips and raise an eyebrow. He’s serious about this, isn’t he? You suppose you wouldn’t mind playing along to see how far he would go.

A man ready and willing to commit to marriage? You must be living in your romantic film.

You nod. “Right, we’re friends, possibly moving onto more than friends–well, actually, straight to marriage,” you chuckle, "but I’ve always felt comfortable around you, Kook.”

He flashes a warm smile. “Good, then everything will be easy, peasy lemon squeezy.”

He’s cute, you think.

“I hope you like mimosas,” he says as he unloads the groceries from the bags.

Bread, eggs, bacon, strawberries, orange juice, and champagne.

“Are you making me breakfast?” you question, narrowing your eyes at the man in the yellow beanie and white Nike shirt.

“Consider it your birthday breakfast, wifey,” he jokes, peering in your cupboards for a pan.

“Right side next to the oven.”

“Ah, I gotta remember this if I’m gonna be cooking here more often.” He whistles, setting the pan on the stove.

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “Don’t you have to work today?”

“Nah–called in sick. It’s my wife’s birthday week. I have to shower her with all the love.” He wiggles his eyebrows and puckers his lips.

It’s funny to see Jeon Jungkook act this way. He’s always been playful and flirty the two years you’ve known him, but this must’ve been his way of pulling out all his cards of wooing a woman.

💖💖💖

“Breakfast is ready,” Jungkook yells from the kitchen.

A support ticket from work came through, distracting you from your movie and Jungkook.

“‘Kay! Almost done.” You recheck your work emails, ensuring everything is complete.

This time, you put on a bra, change into a decent shirt, and put on a skin tint and blush to make yourself look alive.

You stroll into the kitchen, and Jungkook perfectly displays the sunflowers on the counter and two delicious breakfast plates. The champagne flutes are filled to the brim and topped off with a beautifully sliced strawberry.

“Thanks, Kook. This looks so yummy.”

He flashes a smile. “Anytime.”

The two of you sit beside each other, digging into the breakfast spread.

“What’s that one movie you wanted to watch again?” Jungkook asks before he sips his mimosa.

Your mouth is full, and you chew quickly to answer him. “The one on Netflix?” He hums. “Wedding Season.”

“Sounds like the perfect movie for us to watch this week.”

“You’re into rom-coms?”

“I love ‘em.”

“Shut up. You’re teasing me now.”

“I don’t know why you never ask me to watch them, but you’ll ask the girls.”

You look down at your food before catching his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d be into them, so I never asked. And you don’t seem like the hopeless romantic type.”

“I mean, growing up, I wasn’t. My parents didn’t have a fairytale romance, so I didn’t believe in love for a long time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So, someone must’ve changed your mind then?”

He hums, not wanting to admit who made it an exception.

You nudge his arm. “Are you gonna tell me, or will I have to pry it out of you?”

He chuckles, not saying a word.

You scoff. “You’re not gonna tell me? Keeping secrets from your wife already? Rude,” you tut.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replies.

The two of you finish breakfast, and Jungkook insists on doing the dishes. You set your plate in the sink and clutch onto his arm, tiptoeing to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

💖💖💖

tuesday.

You take the morning off to run errands for your upcoming birthday extravaganza. And you’re struggling to hit the lock button on your keypad while holding a heavy box of birthday decor.

When you finally hear the whirring of the lock and chime, you turn around, bumping into someone, dropping your box, and knocking over a handful of books.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” you say, quickly picking up as many books as possible, and he picks up your birthday decor.

The man reaches for the pink heart-shaped sunglasses and other pink-colored decor. “Someone must be celebrating big,” the man’s dimpled smile displayed.

Your fingers accidentally touch his when you switch his books for your decor. You clear your throat, trying not to ogle the man. “Um, yeah, it’s for my birthday.”

He perks up. “Oh?” He flashes a thin smile. “Happy birthday.”

A breath gets caught in your throat, and you struggle to get any words out. “Uh, my birthday is actually on Saturday,” you finally croak out. “But, you must be my new neighbor.”

“Yeah, I’m Namjoon. I just moved in this past weekend.”

Oh, this is bad. Really bad.

He’s tall, has beautiful tanned skin and blonde hair, and you could live in his dimples.

“It’s–it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sorry about bumping into you, and it’s nice to meet you too. I hope you have a good birthday,” he says before picking up one last book on the ground.

“Are you doing anything this weekend? You can come if you want.”

After you ask, you want to kick yourself in the bum. Inviting a man you just met. What if he’s a weirdo? But how can he be if he’s reading ‘A Bigger Message Conversations with David Hockney.’ You may have managed to peek at one of his books.

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding! I’m inviting you, and you can’t say no to the birthday girl,” you tease, adjusting the box in your arms.

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “You’re right. It’d be messed up to say no to the birthday girl.”

“So, you’ll come?” you ask, and a smile grows from ear to ear.

He nods. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The two of you exchange information before you leave to finish your errands. You’re beaming down the street while carrying your box of decor.

You didn’t expect to find someone cute and endearing so quickly. And you’re surprised he said yes to your party. Maybe he’s new in town and wants to make friends. It would be a good way for him to get acquainted, and a part of you hoped you’d keep bumping into him in the halls.

💖💖💖

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:27 AM Wanna do a movie night today? We could watch Wedding Season.

You 11:30 AM Sounds like a date.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:35 AM Is 6 okay? I can bring dinner too.

You 11:36 AM That sounds perfect.

It's six on the dot, and you hear a knock on your door. You suppose Jungkook is the type to show up right on time, which you greatly appreciate.

He holds a six-pack of beer and a pizza box when you open the door.

"Ready for movie night?"

It’s halfway through the film, and you’re enjoying it. You love the fake dating trope because you could always count on the two mains to fall for each other.

"Are you cold?" Jungkook asks when he sees you tuck your hands in between your thighs.

"Yeah, kind of."

"Come here."

He opens his arm to cuddle, and you blink expressionless at him. The most intimate thing you’ve done with him is hug him–a side hug.

He laughs when you don’t move. “What? Scared I’ll bite?”

“No—it’s just that cuddling is an intimate thing to do,” you admit.

Arms and legs become entangled. Bodies are warming up against each other. Possibilities of things progressing.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Do you have a throw blanket somewhere?” He looks around and sees a woven basket next to the couch. He grabs a white fluffy throw for you.

Jungkook gives you an out, and for that, you’re grateful.

“Thanks,” you say as you snuggle in the blanket.

He flashes a small smile. “No problem.”

Even though you rejected Jungkook’s invitation to cuddle, somehow, by the end of the movie, the two of you had fallen asleep—cuddling.

You didn’t pull away from him yet. You peered up at him, watching his chest rise and fall. Light snores escape his lips, and now and again, he puffs out a breath like a whale coming up for air, making you chuckle.

You rest your chin on his chest, giving yourself a few seconds to enjoy this before waking him up.

“Kook,” you whisper, gently shaking him. “Kook,” you repeat.

He hums, popping his head up while his eyes are still closed. He flutters them open and immediately sits up, wiping the drool that’s dried on his chin. He clears his throat. “Um—how long was I asleep for?”

You giggle. “We both fell asleep. I blame the beer,” you say, stretching your arms.

Jungkook can’t help but notice the shiny piece of jewelry hanging from your navel. “You have your belly button pierced?” he asks with a raised brow.

You quickly pull down your shirt. “It was a dumb thing I did when I turned 21.”

“It’s cute.”

You shy away from his comment. At times, you forget you have it.

“What else are you hiding, hm?” Jungkook asks.

You scoff. “Nothing. I only have my ears and my belly button pierced.”

“No tattoos?”

Tattoos are cool on other people, and you toyed with the idea of getting one. You were indecisive about what to get.

You shook your head no. “Maybe one day.”

“Get one for your 30th. I’ll go with you. I know a guy,” he teases, pointing out the ink on his skin.

“You gonna hold my hand the entire time?”

He grins. “Anything for the wifey.”

A tattoo, huh? You’ve always wanted to see how high your pain threshold was. “I’ll think about it.”

“Just let me know, and I’ll get an appointment with the guy I always go to. I only trust him.”

Jungkook stands, proceeding to clean up the mess you two made.

“Oh, no. Leave it. I’ll clean it up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

He looks at the clock. It’s nearly midnight, and he still needs to wash up.

You walk him to the door, holding it open for him to leave. “Kook?”

Jungkook turns to you. “Yeah?”

You’re unsure what comes over you, but you pull him in for a hug. Only this time, it doesn’t feel like a friendly hug. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, then he wraps his arms around you. Every ounce of his body presses against yours, and you fit perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. His fresh, clean scent invades your nose, and you wish it could linger for a bit longer while his hand snakes to the nape of your neck, fingers curling in your hair.

Why do you feel more vulnerable when sleeping next to him now than earlier? Is it because you’re awake and aware of your intentions? The question was, what were your intentions? Did you want this? Did you really want him?

You withdrew from the embrace, bidding him farewell. He gives a small wave before disappearing into the elevator.

As you enter your apartment and shut the door, you repeatedly knocked the back of your head against it, muttering, ‘fuck.’ You were playing along to see how far Jungkook would go before calling it quits, but you failed to see that maybe—just maybe you could be falling too.

Hoseok’s minding his business, eating his ramen when he sees his roommate walk in. Jungkook looks like he’s floating on cloud nine, beaming from ear to ear. There’s even a hop in his step. He twirls around, daintily sitting beside Hoseok.

Hoseok scans his friend, watching him as he breathes a happy sigh and stares into the distance.

“What’s going on with you?” He raises a brow and narrows his eyes.

Jungkook giggles and scrunches his shoulders. “I just came back from cuddling with ___,” he says as he continues in his reveries.

“Oh, boy. Everyone, can I please have your attention,” Hoseok cups his mouth into a megaphone, “Jeon Jungkook has officially gone off the deep end. He thinks being delulu is the solulu.”

Jungkook glares at his friend and kicks him under the table. “Yah–aren’t you supposed to be rooting for me?”

Hoseok slurps his noodles. “Of course, I’m rooting for you. You’re my best bud,” he says as he places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he pats Hoseok’s hand. “Now–be an even better friend, and let me raid your closet for ___’s party.”

Jungkook lies in bed; his bicep flexes when he moves his hand behind his head. He’s watching an array of colors flash across the vastness of his room. The northern lights and stars twirl and sparkle like the movements of butterflies and the ones milling around his stomach for days.

Is this what being in love feels like, he thinks. It’s like he’s living in the romance movies he’s watched. Boy meets girl, boy, and girl fall in love, and they live happily ever after.

This is it. This must be it. His chance to be with you–the one he’s fallen completely head over heels for.

If the Jungkook from four years ago were to see him today, he’d laugh and call him a simp, especially with how he’s at your beck and call.

But the Jungkook, from four years ago, was a cynic. He had no healthy or loving relationships around him until he met you through Hoseok. And, even though you were with someone at the time, he saw how kind and wonderful you were to your friends and could only imagine the kind of love you’d show toward someone special.

There were only a few more days until your party, and he was determined to make each day count.

wednesday.

Since Monday, Jungkook has surprised you every day with a gift. They were his attempts to make you fall in love with you, along with his random trips to your place.

Today’s gift was a pair of pink seashell earrings. Jungkook tells you he spent hours making it from clay, then baked them in the oven. You shook your head, wondering how he got an idea like this. Nonetheless, it was a sweet gift.

He texted throughout the day, leaving cute words of encouragement or sending TikToks of funny videos he’d find. Maybe this was his love language, taking the time out of his day to let you know he’s thinking about you.

As your day winds down, you’re scrolling through YouTube, and what catches your eye at 7 p.m.? Dessert videos.

And that’s your worst toxic trait—thinking you can bake. It always looks easy enough. If they can do it, so can you.

That is, until you’re in the kitchen, halfway through a recipe, and notice you’re out of sugar. The grocery store is too far and will close when you get there.

See what happens when you decide to bake? It always goes differently than you want.

You could call Jungkook to see if he has any or walk over to your new neighbor’s place. The latter was plausible since Namjoon was only a few feet away.

You shook off the nerves, flattened your apron, and lightly knocked on Namjoon’s door. You could hear shuffling as he unlocked it.

Your eyes widened, standing like a deer caught in headlights. Namjoon’s half-naked, black shorts hung dangerously low on his waist. His forehead is glistening with sweat.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” you ask while trying to keep your gaze in line with his and not ogling his chiseled body.

Shit—maybe he had company over.

He cards his hand through his platinum blonde hair, but a few pieces fall back, covering his eyes. “No, you’re good. I just finished working out. What’s up?” he asks. His hand holds the door open as he leans against it.

You’re dumbfounded, unable to form words again. It’s like a giant hairball stuck in your throat.

Namjoon’s brows raise, and he calls out to you.

“Oh, sorry!” you say. “I’m attempting to bake a cake but I'm out of sugar. I wanted to ask if you have any I can borrow.”

“I think I do,” he ponders as he steps back. “Come in. Come in.”

You step into a squeaky clean apartment. Didn’t he just move in? How does someone unpack so quickly? Or maybe he had little to begin with.

His apartment was like a museum, with pottery, sculptures, and art prints adorning his walls and shelves. But what catches your attention is the translucent, cylindrical coffee table. It doesn’t seem like anyone should be putting anything on it.

Namjoon stands beside you, holding a jar of sugar.

“Ah, thank you so much! Now my cake batter won’t go to waste.”

“Anything catch your fancy?” he asks.

Granted, this man is still half-naked, standing beside you. You’re trying not to go feral over how broad and built he is.

“This, actually,” you point to the glass coffee table.

“That’s probably one of my most prized possessions.”

“It looks expensive.” You’d later come to find out it was worth $1.2M after you did an internet search.

“It is,” he chuckles. “It’s on loan from a friend.”

“On loan?” you ask, turning to him. Your eyes narrow and lips thin. “Can I ask what you do for work?”

“I’m an art curator.”

That makes sense now, considering the expensive and extensive art collection.

“Oh—you’re so fancy,” you tease. “I don’t know shit about art.” You could stand before a painting and feel nothing while looking at it. Maybe you were just going in with the wrong mindset.

Namjoon chuckles. “You can always ask me questions,” he notes before walking away to put on a t-shirt.

You’re a bit disappointed that you can’t ogle him anymore.

“Well, I can’t ask you questions if you don’t take me to a museum,” you flirt, turning toward him.

He grins, showing off his pearly whites and dimple deeply etched into his left cheek. “Are you asking me to ask you out on a date?”

You can’t help but play dumb. “Oh no, of course not! I would like your expertise to guide me around a museum, and if we happen to eat afterward, then I don’t know—would you call that a date?”

Namjoon licks his lips and nods, impressed by your boldness. “Are you busy Friday night?”

The cake wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either. You’d have to keep perfecting it and maybe keep asking to ‘borrow’ some sugar from your neighbor.

You debated whether you should tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon. It’s a harmless date; Jungkook would be off the hook if it goes well. Besides, it’s a silly agreement you two made up while drunk.

But, you’d sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow. There was one more day before the date anyway.

As you were sitting in bed, doing your nightly scrolling through social media. A video call comes through.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo Incoming Video Call

You're on your side when you answer his call. “Hey, Kook,” you say before covering a yawn.

“Ready for bed?” he asks, shuffling underneath his duvet.

Your eyes scan the screen, and you notice his bare shoulders and collarbone on display. You never realized his tattooed sleeve reached so high on his arm, scantily kissing the top of his shoulder.

You cleared your throat. "Yeah, about to call it a night. What's up?"

"I just wanted to call and see how your day was. I was busy at work, so I didn't get to text you," he says.

Now that you think about it, the last text you received from him was this morning. And since the start of your little agreement, Jungkook has been texting and calling more than usual.

"I worked, then attempted to bake a cake."

He props the phone against something as he lies on his side, and parts of his hair still look damp from a shower. And you hate how cuddly he looks while he’s in bed and how you can see how much he works out just from the outline of his arms.

And no—you aren’t thinking about anything else.

"How'd it turn out?"

You shook your head in disgust. "Not very good."

"Ah, I'm sure it was great."

"I'll stick to store-bought cake for now."

"Next time, we can do it together and fail."

He wants to do everything with you, huh?

You chuckle at his comment and then say what’s on your mind, "I never realized how far your tattoo sleeve went up."

He peers at his shoulder. "Oh yeah," he leans forward to show you, his bicep flexing as he moves.

"Cool guy."

He chuckles. "Hardly cool. Just bored," he says. "So, should I schedule you for your tattoo?"

Since the last conversation, you've been scrolling through Pinterest and Instagram to get some ideas.

"I think I want the birth flower for September."

Jungkook shows you his arm, pointing to his tiger lily tattoo. "This one is for the actual day of birth, but the flower for the month of September is pretty too. Have you thought about placement?"

"Mm, maybe on the back of my neck or the inside of my arm. What do you think?" You show him your arm, then the back of your neck.

"It would look great on the back of your neck. It could be a nice surprise when you have your hair up."

"Oh–I like that idea."

He props himself up on the side with a wide grin. "So, I'm booking your appointment?"

You chuckle. "Yeah, why not? We only live once, right?"

Turning 30 is making your confidence go up.

“Once you get one, you’ll want more. Trust me.”

“At least I’ll have a tattoo buddy for life,” you tease.

“Ah, see, I like the way you’re thinking. Well, I should let my wifey get to sleep,” he gives a small smile. He reaches for his phone, placing it on his chest. His other hand is behind his head as he watches you through the screen.

You hum in agreement. “Night.”

“Night.”

Daydreams are one thing, and when Jungkook lies in bed, he can't help but wonder.

Wonder how you’d look in his favorite t-shirt. Wonder which side of the bed you prefer. Wonder if you dream of him, too. Wonder what it’s like to be loved by you.

Jungkook doesn’t want to wonder anymore; he wants to make you his reality.

thursday.

The birthday festivities started early for you as you requested today and tomorrow off. There’s no way you’re spending your last few days of being 29 stuck at work.

Today’s agenda consisted of a pedicure. The toes have to look cute with your new heels, and as you’re ready to head out to your appointment, Jungkook is at your door when you open it.

You tilt your head, knitting your eyebrows together. “Did we have something planned?”

He shakes his head no and pouts. “No, I wanted to surprise you with another gift.”

He hands you a gift bag, and you take a small peek, reaching down to grab the gift. You pull out a peach-shaped heart bath bomb.

“Peach?” You raise a brow and give a smug grin. “What makes you think I like peach?”

Jungkook snorts. “Oh, pfft–I don’t know. Could it be all the candles or soap? Or how you always order any type of peach-flavored alcohol? Tea? Or–”

You suck in your lips, then give a thin smile. “Son of a peach.”

“Very cute. You’re also great at fruit puns. I’ll add that to the list of reasons why I like you,” he chuckles.

To be fair, everything in your apartment had a hint of peach–your candles, air freshener, hand soap, ChapStick, and not to mention a cupboard full of peach tea.

You chuckle. “Thanks, Kook. You didn’t have to.”

“I do if I’m trying to make you fall in love with me.”

You set the bath bomb back in its bag, then on the entryway table. You close the door behind you, forcing him to step back.

“You talk a lot about making me fall in love with you, but you’ve still failed to do so. It’s almost my birthday,” you tease.

What girl wouldn’t want gifts, but you thought he’d push a bit harder.

Jungkook smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He steps closer to you–close enough for you to smell his cologne. It’s a fresh, clean scent.

He’s inches away from you. Warmth is radiating off of him. Your heart is practically beating out of your chest. Your eyes are on his, then focus on his lip ring, then the freckle underneath his bottom lip. It’s the first time you’ve been close enough to notice it.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours. His tongue wets his lips, then plays with his ring. “I’m just getting started,” he says.

You close your eyes, fluttering them back open. There’s relief escaping your body once he backs away.

“So, what are we doing today?” he asks, stepping out of the way to let you lead.

“I have a pedicure appointment. Wanna come?” you ask. You wouldn’t mind having company around, and you’re curious how he’ll continue to sweep you off your feet.

You feel bad for the poor woman who has Jungkook in her seat, and you’re trying your best not to laugh as he’s squirming, clutching onto the armrests.

You clear your throat. “Is this your first pedicure?”

“What? No,” he counters, but he’s giggling non-stop, holding on for dear life.

“Sir–I need you to stop moving,” the woman warns.

You cover your mouth. Your shoulders are bouncing due to your giggles. “Kook, she hasn’t even done anything to you yet.”

“How the hell do women do this? This is torture.”

“Can’t handle a little torture?”

He perks up, shaking off the chills. The woman continues to scrub his feet with a pumice stone. He’s sucking in his lips, trying not to laugh and smile when she gets to the underside of his foot. Then his reflexes get the best of him, and he almost kicks her.

The woman gives him a blank expression but is professional and continues as fast as possible.

An hour later, Jungkook is coming out of the nail salon, sweating bullets from the endless torture of a pedicure.

You look at him and then his toes. “At least your toes are cute.” He let you choose the color, and you had to choose hot pink to match your birthday theme for this weekend.

He does the walk of shame in a pair of yellow flimsy flip-flops because he wasn’t prepared for a pedicure. You’ve been there, done that.

You link your arms to him when you catch up to him. “Hungry?”

Jungkook groans in delight. “You have to try this.”

He leans forward. A piece of his roasted chicken ravioli covered in pink sauce looks delectable. You open your mouth, devouring the pasta. You close your eyes, savoring it.

“See, what did I tell you?” He smiles, going back to his bowl of food. “How’s yours?”

You didn’t want to say you didn’t like it–but you hate it. “It’s good,” you smile and lie through your teeth.

You begin moving the ravioli around, pretending to make it look like you'll eat it.

Jungkook sets his fork down, pushing his bowl toward you. “Here, take mine.”

You look up at him. “What? No–I like my food,” you lie again, grabbing your bowl and clutching it closer to you.

He deadpans. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you don’t like something. Come on, I’ll finish your food, and you can have mine.”

You let go of your bowl. “Are you sure?”

Jungkook smiles warmly, his small dimple on display as he nods. He grabs your bowl and begins to eat it.

Your heart softens, and you’re enchanted by your friend/potential future husband, so it pains you to have this conversation. You tossed and turned the night before because you couldn’t bear the thought of locking your friend into something he'll regret later on.

“So, you might not have to marry me,” you say.

Jungkook looks up at you, tilting his head in confusion. “Damn, someone beat me to it?” he jokes.

You flash a thin smile and shake your head no. “Well, I have a crush on my new neighbor.”

He raises an eyebrow. “New neighbor?”

You nod. “Yeah, he just moved in.”

Jungkook nibbles on the inside of his mouth then continues to eat. “You barely know the guy, and you’re already tossing me aside?” He tuts, shaking his head.

“I’m–I’m not tossing you aside. You’re still an option, but I’m just saying if it works out with the new neighbor, then you’re off the hook. I'm sure there are better girls out there than me, Kook. You don’t want to be married to me.”

He sets his fork down, pushing his bowl forward. “Well, what can I say? You can’t see the guy?”

“So, you’re okay if I see him?”

Jungkook hesitates to answer. “Mm,” he hums with a nod.

“Are you upset with me?”

“Why would I be upset?” He shrugs. “I’m only a back-up.”

His answer gives you a sense of relief, but you also feel guilty about everything. “Should we end our little deal? That way, you don’t have to be stuck with me for the rest of your life. It seems silly now that we’re both sober and not drunk making promises like this.”

He hums and nods again. “You’re right. It does seem foolish.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I'll go pay while you finish up."

You watch him get up and walk to the register. His demeanor changes as soon as you mention ending the deal.

Is he serious about this?

Honestly, you’re stumped by Jeon Jungkook and his intentions. If he did like you, why not ask you out like an average person? Why go through the trouble of marrying you? So that you could fulfill some silly goal you had for your life?

“I’ll walk you up,” Jungkook says as he turns off the car.

“It’s fine, Kook. You don’t have to,” you counter.

On the ride back, guilt has been eating you from the inside out. You’re unsure why you feel this way–maybe because you feel like a shitty friend. Saying one thing and then doing another.

But again, marriage is a serious thing for two people to consider.

Jungkook doesn’t waver in his decision and escorts you anyway. The silence is deafening in the elevator; the two of you stand at opposite sides, stealing glances. There’s an elephant in the room, but neither of you addresses it.

When the elevator doors open, you expel the caught breath in your throat. Jungkook follows a few steps behind you.

“Are we okay?” you ask, glancing at him before lowering your head.

He stuffs his hand in his pants pocket. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know. I feel like an ass because you’ve been such a good friend–especially after my breakups. And then this past week, you’ve been sweet and cute with all the little gifts and hangouts,” you pause to look at him.

His eyes are big and innocent, and his lips form a slight pout. He’s intently listening to your words.

“I’m trying to say I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and I’m sorry how things turned out,” you manage to spit out.

Jungkook nibbles on his lip, showing off his pretty dimple. His eyes dart to yours as he flashes a thin smile. “Well, I’ll always be your back-up if this guy doesn’t work out.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that he can still joke about this situation. You close the distance between you, reaching up and draping your arms around his neck.

It takes a moment for him to return your hug, but he does–wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. He nuzzles in the crook of your shoulder, taking in your sweet scent and softness.

Your heart’s fluttering, your stomach is somersaulting and doing back-flips. Jungkook’s warmth is all-encompassing, encapsulating every fiber of your being. Neither of you let go, allowing this embrace to go longer than usual friends do.

When you pull away, your lips are so close to his. Close enough to explore what they taste like. Close enough to see how plush they are. Close enough to find out just how much you’d have to gasp for air afterward.

You almost want to give in. You almost want to see where this could go. You almost want him to make a move.

Jungkook whispers your name, and you hum, gazing into his eyes. “Are you sure about this? About the deal? You don’t want it anymore?”

You're becoming lost in the stars and galaxies contained in those doe eyes. Jungkook doesn’t lose focus, doesn’t break character, and doesn’t give you a chance to run away.

“This stops when you say so,” he utters softly.

He’s unrelenting, you think. He wants this, doesn’t he? He wants you.

So these next few words sting. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jungkook doesn’t even realize when he’s outside his apartment complex. He sits in his car, zoning out. He’s so close to finally getting you, but now there’s someone else?

For two years, he’s been trying to buck up the courage and finally ask you out, and when he finally gets an opportunity, someone always swoops in and steals you away.

When he proposed the agreement, it was more of a joke, that is, until you agreed, and that’s when he knew he’d try whatever it took to get you to the altar.

A knock on Jungkook’s window breaks him from deep thought. He looks up to see his roommate, Hoseok.

He gestures for Jungkook to roll his window down. “Why do you look like you're on the verge of crying? Why don’t you go up to the apartment?”

Jungkook holds onto the steering wheel and groans as his head hits it a few times, muttering, ‘Stupid.’

Hoseok knits his eyebrows in confusion as he rubs his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the car door.

Jungkook drags his feet through the threshold and drops his backpack on the floor. He continues walking sluggishly, plopping on the couch, still in a daze.

Hoseok blinks at his friend. “What’s going on?”

“You know how I was trying to make ____ fall in love with me this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, she likes her new neighbor.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “There's a new guy already? I swear this girl must have some kind of bat signal that’s beaming up into the sky that attracts men the second she’s single.”

Jungkook drops his head back, then rubs his face. “What am I going to do?”

Hoseok shrugs. “Maybe tell her how serious you are about being with her.”

“Yeah, but what if she doesn’t want to be with me?”

“So, you’re going to trap her in a marriage instead?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “Make it make sense, my friend.”

Maybe that's what he wanted. It could be like an arranged marriage. Meet first, then fall in love.

“I know it sounds ridiculous!”

Hoseok rubs Jungkook’s shoulder. “This whole deal is ridiculous. Be honest with her, then she’ll have to choose between you and the new guy.”

He knows Hoseok is right. He should be honest and tell you how he feels.

Or he could get rid of the new guy, and the deal would be back on.

Decisions. Decisions.

friday.

Jungkook was determined to make this agreement work out in his favor. He wasn’t going to back down so easily.

He took off early from work, going straight to your favorite bakery to grab a cake. Thoughts are racing through his mind as he clutches the cake box and walks through the crowded street.

What if this was his last chance? What if this new guy was ‘the one’ for you? He couldn’t let you slip away again.

He’s even prepared a monologue. He’s mumbling it under his breath when he arrives at your door.

When the door opens, he doesn’t find you. Instead, he finds a half-naked man with broad shoulders and impeccable pecs.

Jungkook stands tall and puffs out his chest, back straight, when he sees this unknown man. His mouth is agape as he scans him from head to toe. Was this the guy you were talking about?

He clears his throat and stands his ground. “Oh, uh, who are you?”

“Hey, man. I’m Namjoon. ___’s neighbor,” he says.

“I’ll be right out!” you yell from the other room.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, and he’s trying to calm his nerves. There’s no way you were sleeping with this guy already, right? No, you can’t be, Jungkook shakes the thought from his head.

You sprint from the hallway, holding a shirt. With your clumsy ways, you spilled iced coffee on Namjoon’s shirt right before your date. You felt bad, so you offered to wash it for him.

“Namjoon, I’m so sorry! I’ve tried everything to get it out. I might have to buy you a new shirt–oh,” you gasp. “Hi, Jungkook.”

Jungkook walks in, setting the box down, and he doesn’t say anything else as he leans against the counter, watching you two.

Namjoon sucks in his lips, strolling to your side, looking at his stained shirt. “Don’t worry about it. It was time to get rid of that shirt anyway.” He gives a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna grab a new shirt, then we’ll be on our way?”

You hum. “See you soon.”

Jungkook’s eyes follow you and Namjoon as you bid him farewell. You lower your head and purse your lips when you approach Jungkook.

“Date night?” he asks, turning to you.

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from your date. Just wanted to drop off a cake I picked up for you,” he points to the box on the counter.

You see the bakery's name on the box, and it’s from your favorite place. You undo the tabs and unfold the box to reveal a heart-shaped cake with various shades of baby pink and blue, then sitting prettily on top is one of your favorite Sanrio characters: Cinnamoroll.

“Kook–you didn’t just pick this up.” A cake like this was ordered well in advance.

His eyebrows rise, and he gives a half-smile. He walks beside you. “Happy early birthday,” he says as his eyes flick to yours. “See you tomorrow.”

When the door shuts, you wince.

Namjoon has a brilliant mind, and that intimidates you. He's far too intelligent and reasonable for a hopeless romantic who lives in their daydreams and wants a ring on their finger by tomorrow.

The two of you come to a crowded spot in the museum. You look back and smile at Namjoon. He puts his hands on your waist, guiding you from behind. Your stomach somersaults from the affection, but you continue leading the way through the sea of people, trying not to focus on it.

An announcement reminds museum go-ers that they’ll be closing in 15 minutes.

“Should we head out soon?” you ask with disappointment. You thoroughly enjoyed hearing Namjoon talk even though you had nothing insightful to say about the numerous art pieces.

The corners of his mouth curve up. “But we have one more exhibit to see,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. He holds out his hand for yours.

You’re intrigued, so you don’t question and place your hand in his.

Everyone starts to file out toward the exit, but the two of you enter an exhibit hidden away in the back.

“Aren’t we going to get in trouble?” you ask.

He chuckles. “You’re cute,” he says before showing you his work ID and security badge.

“Oh,” you giggle. It makes sense. Namjoon did say he was an ‘art curator.’ He just never mentioned where he worked.

“Feel free to look around and tell me if anything catches your eye.”

You take your time, roaming around, going from piece to piece. Namjoon stays in place, waiting until you’ve found something. You tilt your head, examining the drawing.

[ frida castelli, milan ]

It's a woman. Her back is bare, and she's curling her hands into the bedsheets. The drawing is cut off right at the small of her back, and one can assume the rest. It's erotic–as this exhibit displays various works from modern artists.

Namjoon stands beside you. “Thoughts?”

Horny, you think, but considering this is your first date. You probably shouldn’t blurt it out.

“I like the position she's in,” you say, and Namjoon chokes on nothing. You cover your mouth and can’t help but laugh.

“I like that position too,” he adds.

You try to suppress your smile because now, you��re thinking about the two of you in that position.

"Should we keep looking?"

After a late-night dinner, you’re standing outside your door, not wanting to say goodbye to Namjoon. You’d invite him in, but tomorrow’s a big day, and you have an early wake-up call.

“I hope I was able to answer your questions,” Namjoon says, leaning his shoulder against the door, facing you.

You give him a small smile, looking at the floor, then back up at him. "I think you answered everything."

He hums and parts his lips. "Well, I have one question for you, if that's okay."

You nod.

"Can I give the birthday girl a kiss?"

You lick your lips. "It's not my birthday yet."

Namjoon steps forward, scanning your face. "You can consider it an early birthday present."

"Well, I won't say no to a birthday present."

Your heart is swooning over this tall, handsome man. He’s perfect. He's brilliant and well-spoken. Someone secure and confident, even emotionally available. You’d be a fool not to want this to go further.

Your gaze darts back and forth between his eyes and his lips, unsure how to respond. You've been wondering what they taste like all night and want to kiss the freckle underneath his lip. They look so rosy and pillowy, almost like kissing a cloud.

He softly presses his lips against yours. His big hands cup your face. His nose brushes against your cheek. His lips encapture your top lip, then your bottom. He lingers briefly before pulling away, his lips ghosting over yours, and you want to return for more–you’re not done.

“Do that again,” you whisper.

His breath is warm, and he smiles before going back in, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your hands are placed on his taut chest, fingers curling and tugging on his shirt. The butterflies in your stomach are yearning for a way out. The desire in you grows deeper. You’re breathless at this point, but you don’t care if you never breathe again.

First kisses always make you go weak in the knees, and you wish you could experience them over and over.

“Your lips are stained,” you notice when you pull away.

Namjoon chuckles; his thumb swipes at his bottom lip. “That’s okay.”

He moves in to kiss you again, but you stop him by putting your index finger to his lips. “The birthday girl should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

You render him speechless—he made the first move, but you’ll have the final say.

You bid goodbye to him, trying your best not to linger and give in to your urges. Peering through the viewfinder, you see him smiling and shaking his head before he closes the door to his place.

You’re grinning from ear to ear as your back is against the door. The date couldn’t have gone better–though you probably couldn’t write a dissertation on Modern Art in Korea, you appreciated that he took the time to explain what he loves and why he’s so passionate about it.

Maybe he could be the one.

It’s midnight when you’re under the covers and still glowing from your date with Namjoon.

You check your phone to see text messages from Jungkook.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:22 PM Hey! I found some cool birth flowers. Do you like any of these? [ 5 images attached ]

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 9:27 PM And my tattoo guy had a last-minute cancellation for Monday at 6 p.m. I’m gonna book you for it, okay?

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 10:05 PM I can go to hold your hand if you’d like.

KooKoo-Ca-Choo 11:11 PM I hope you had a good day. See you tomorrow, birthday girl.

This differed from how you wanted to celebrate your birthday week, especially not how you envisioned your friendship with Jungkook. Did you ruin it?

And that’s when your heart aches as you reflect on this past week. Jungkook has been so sweet, and you feel like the worst friend. Could he be into you, and you’re blind to notice?

But what about Namjoon? He’s undoubtedly checked off all the boxes you could want in a partner.

Plus, Jungkook’s just a back-up.

saturday.

The sun is peeking through, and the birds are chirping away. You’ve slept through your alarm because you’re still in dreamland.

You’re unsure who’s in bed with you. All you hear is a groan and shuffling as they reposition themselves. You peer over your shoulder, quickly turning away when they pull themselves closer to you. Then, as an arm comes into view, draping over you, you recognize the inked skin.

It’s Jungkook.

A buzz from your phone and a bang at the door awakens you. Missed notifications of calls and texts from Jenn, your best friend, flood your screen.

You sprint to the door, unlocking and opening it for her.

“Jesus Christ—I thought you were dead,” Jenn says after she brushes past you, setting several bags on your kitchen counter.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, babe,” she blinks, giving you the once-over. “You haven’t showered, have you?”

You shake your head no.

“Well, go! It’s your birthday, but we can’t wait all day for you.” She shoos you off to the bathroom.

When you’re out of the shower, Jenn’s sitting in front of your vanity, putting on her blush.

“So, how are you doing, babe? Still not over Theodore Boner?”

“Bonner,” you correct her.

You adjust your towel, tucking it securely. “There’s been some new developments,” you say, walking to your dresser.

Jenn slowly turns around. “Please don’t tell me you’re back with him? He was a walking red flag. Well, at the end of your relationship anyway.”

You press your lips together, shaking your head. “You know that time I was upset about my break-up with Jimin?”

Jenn hums and narrows her eyes.

“Jungkook and I went out and got pretty drunk.”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh.”

You cleared your throat. “I may have agreed that if Jungkook and I were still single by 30, we’d get married.” You turned around, opening the top drawer in search of cute underwear.

Jenn’s jaw drops. “You’re not going to marry Jeon Jungkook, are you?”

You laugh it off. “No, of course not! But he’s always been there for me after my break-ups.”

“Oh, how convenient that he also happens to be single by your 30th birthday,” she says dryly.

“Jungkook’s been a good friend, and if we were to get married, and that’s a big if, then honestly, I think we’d be pretty good together,” you explain.

You're not sure if you're attempting to persuade Jenn or yourself. You’re not going to lie. You’ve toyed with the idea this whole week.

“Why don’t you just date Jungkook then?” she asks, returning to add more blush to her cheeks.

You nibble on your bottom lip. “Err–well, because there’s a new guy.”

She whips her head back around. “I go on a solo trip, and you have not one but two guys who want to be with you?”

“Technically, I told Jungkook that if things work out with me and Namjoon, he doesn’t have to marry me.”

“Namjoon?”

“Yeah, he’s my new neighbor.”

“Shut up! Your neighbor?” Jenn stands, sprinting out your bedroom door. “Which apartment? I need to see this man.”

“Jenn!” You run after her, clutching her arm, trying to pull her back. “Stop it, will you? He’ll be at the party tonight.”

Jenn turns to you. “Babe–you have Jungkook and new neighbor guy vying for your attention? Sheesh. When can I be the main character?”

You grip your towel and drag her back to your room.

“At least tell me more juicy details,” she whines.

Jungkook checks himself out in the mirror. Hot pink usually is not part of his wardrobe color, but he does it in a heartbeat if it involves you and your silly antics.

He slips the hot pink denim jacket over his white shirt and matching pink cargo trousers. He adds a neon green necklace to finish off his look.

This outfit is Ken-esque, right? He sighs, wishing you could be the Barbie to his Ken.

His roommate, Hoseok, knocks on his door, breaking his focus. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do?”

Jungkook nibbles the inside of his cheek. This week’s been a rollercoaster of emotions for him. He was at an all-time high before you broke the news that you no longer need a back-up.

He’s gone back and forth, debating whether to fight for you or give up.

"I don't know yet," Jungkook responds. He glances at Hoseok through the mirror's reflection.

“Tell her how you feel. Be honest with her,” Hoseok says. He’s been telling Jungkook for two years now.

Jungkook turns around. “I can’t–” he pauses and huffs a breath, taking a seat on the bed.

Hoseok narrows his eyes and crosses his arms as he leans against the door frame. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve done too much shit by breaking up her relationships. She’ll never forgive me,” Jungkook explains.

Hoseok choked on nothing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Remember Jimin and Theo?”

Hoseok hums.

Jungkook clears his throat. “I may or may not have told some harmless lies that ended up in them breaking up with her.”

Hoseok huffs out a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell her right off the bat that you wanted to date her.”

“I’m an idiot, that’s why, and now it’s too late. She doesn’t want me. She wants the neighbor guy.”

Hoseok sits by his friend. “It’s either now or never. You can’t keep breaking up her relationships because you’re too scared to be in a real one with her. You don’t want to start it off that way.”

Jungkook flings himself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know! I’ve just never done this before. I don’t know how to act. She’s the first person I’ve had actual feelings for.”

Hoseok blinks at his friend, ready to say something, but Jungkook interrupts him. “Don’t say shit about that–many people don’t meet the right person until later in life.”

He holds his hands up in defeat. “There’s no judgment from me, my friend. Just consider my words before anyone gets hurt.”

You swipe the lip tint across your bottom lip and repeat with the top. Glancing in the mirror, you adjust your dusty rose dress and tie your matching ribbon in your hair.

The theme for tonight's party is Barbie core, and individuals are encouraged to wear any shade of pink. You’re ridiculous, but you only turn 30 once–why not go all out?

Buckets of bubbly are filled with rosé bottles and floral ice cubes. Barbie-esque props, including heart-shaped sunglasses and cut-out foam lips, are ready to be used at the photo booth. You’ve spent too much time on Pinterest planning the perfect celebration.

It’s ten to seven and still too early for people to show, so you order a Malibu Barbie cocktail at the bar. Jin, the bartender, even tops off your drink with pink sanding sugar for this special occasion and throws in a little peach schnapps.

“There’s the birthday girl.”

When you turn around, you see Jungkook in a bright pink attire. Not every day you see him dressed in anything other than black or white, so you consider this a rare treat.

He offers you a warm hug, and you both act as if nothing has changed. It’s not like you’ve seen him every day as he’s dropped off gifts for you, or he willingly watched a rom-com and definitely hadn’t cuddled.

It’s like you’ve gone back to being just friends.

As you withdraw, you give him the once-over. “You look great in hot pink. I wish I got to see your matching toes.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I don’t think sandals would go with this outfit.”

You shake your head no.

“You look amazing,” he adds, taking your hand and making you twirl for him.

“Thanks, Kook,” you grin. Your hand lingers in his as he delicately caresses your skin. The back of your neck is warming up, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve made a mistake breaking off your deal.

“Ah, there’s our Barbie girl!” Jenn exclaims as she approaches you. Immediately, you let go of Jungkook’s hand.

“Hey!” you answer, rubbing the back of your neck. “What’s up? Did you need something?”

Jenn raises her brow at you and Jungkook. “I did, but you’re busy with Ken, so I’ll ask Hoseok to help me. Enjoy your night, babe.”

You take your drink and dash off with Jenn, telling Jungkook you’ll see him later. As you stroll behind her, you loop your arm around hers.

“Are you okay?” Jenn narrows her eyes, suppressing a smile.

You clear your throat. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It looks like you and loverboy were having a moment there before I interrupted,” she says, setting down the flower vase on the dessert table.

“He’s not my loverboy. I’m gonna start seeing Namjoon, remember?”

“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. Look–all I’m saying is you should give Jungkook a chance. Anyone could tell he’s head over heels in love with you.”

You choke on your drink. “What? How come no one’s ever told me?”

Jenn laughs. “I never put two and two together until you mentioned your little agreement with him this morning,” she pauses, cupping your face. “And my sweet, innocent Barbie girl, he shoots heart eyes whenever you’re around.” She holds your chin, turning you in Jungkook’s direction.

Jungkook is leaning on the bar, attempting to find the perfect stance to appear cool, but he has no idea what to do with himself. He peers in your direction, catching your gaze, and quickly turns away, waving down the bartender.

She continues, “You’ve been with so many knockoff Kens that you were blind to the real one. He’s a bit of a goofball, but he seems sweet, and like you mentioned today, he’s always around when you’re in need.”

What if your decision was a mistake? Would it be too late to change your mind? You were sure Jungkook had already moved on after being rejected.

You watch while Jungkook drinks something–you figure it's vodka. A shot for yourself seems enticing, simply to settle your anxieties.

Your birthday is supposed to be filled with joy, laughter, and celebration, not you being torn between two great guys.

The party is in full swing–the music’s blaring, friends laughing, chattering, drinking away. Everyone has arrived except for the one person you've been looking for: Namjoon.

You giggle when you scan the room and see Hoseok and Jungkook dancing in the corner. When your eyes catch him, he gestures for you to come dance, but you haven’t had enough alcohol to make a fool of yourself.

He sprints to you, grabbing your hand and dragging you along. “You need a drink before you dance, huh?”

Your lips thin, and you think, how does he know you so well?

You nod and follow him from behind. You stare blankly as his hands are loosely intertwined with yours. He’s leading you through the crowd, letting go once you’re at the bar’s counter.

“Do you still want that pink drink thingy you had earlier?”

“Surprise me,” you say.

“Two Pink Cadillacs, please,” he says to Jin.

As Jin gets to work on your drinks, Jungkook makes small talk to kill time.

“Are you having fun?” he asks, standing before you. He sways to the song's beat, grinning from ear to ear.

You’d have more fun if you weren’t thinking about him and Namjoon all night. Considering that Namjoon hasn’t even shown up yet, you appreciate that Jungkook’s a sweet and caring friend.

“I’ll be having more fun once I have this drink,” you say over the music.

“You’re not having fun with me?” he jokes, holding out his hand for yours, and of course, you take it.

He draws you to him, makes you twirl around, and then dips you. A slight squeal escapes your lips when you come back up.

Jungkook chuckles. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“No, I’m–I’m having a good time,” you answer his previous question.

“Are you sure? It looks like something’s on your mind,” Jungkook notes. "You can always talk to me, you know."

Even after breaking off your agreement, he's still willing to be a good friend to you. How'd you get so lucky with someone like him?

"I know," you smile, draping your arms around his neck.

"Two Pink Cadillacs."

You break away from him, grabbing your drink. The two of you sip on them, watching the crowd.

"Jungkook, one. Hot sexy neighbor, zero," Jenn whispers in your ear before walking away.

You clench your jaw and narrow your eyes at her. It’s been an hour, and Namjoon is still nowhere to be seen. Maybe something came up. Things happen. You get it.

"What's going on with Jenn?" he asks.

"Nothing," you reply as you move to stand before him. "You know how she is."

Jungkook takes another sip of his drink. “Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

Your eyes widen and flick to him. Have you been obvious about what’s on your mind?

“Yeah, of course–” you say before a hand slides on the small of your back. You turn to see the man who’s been MIA, Namjoon.

“Hey, birthday girl. I’m sorry I’m late! It was a lot harder to find a pink outfit than I thought,” Namjoon chuckles, then he sees that he may have interrupted something. “Oh–hey, man! Jungkook, right?”

Jungkook gives a small smile, and you mouth, ‘Sorry.’

“Can I steal you away for a second?” Namjoon asks, and you oblige.

Namjoon takes your hand, ready to drag you off, but you stop and return to Jungkook. “Can we talk later?”

He nods. “Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. Go have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

Jungkook looks on as you and Namjoon disappear. You laugh when he says something, and Jungkook can hear it–you always let out a tiny squeak, your shoulders bounce, and you cover up your mouth because you don't like how your teeth show when you laugh.

He rubs the back of his neck. He’ll have to find time to talk to you later.

Hoseok nudges Jungkook. “Who’s that?”

Jungkook sips his drink and inhales sharply. “Her neighbor.”

“They look pretty cozy to me,” Hoseok remarks. “Go say something before it’s too late.”

It’s already too late, Jungkook thinks. He’s lost you again. What’s the point if he tried with you and you didn’t want him?

He chugs the drink and orders another round for him and Hoseok. He might as well enjoy the booze while he can–at least it would get you off his mind.

Jungkook's vision is blurred, speech slurred. Even though he sees double, his gaze is still fixed on you and Namjoon, following you wherever you go: the photo booth, the bar, the dance floor. Namjoon’s hands haven’t left you, whether holding your hand or soft touches on the small of your back.

It should be him, he thinks, but he’s been turned down before. He couldn't imagine being rejected twice.

He leans on a high-top table, rhythmically tapping his fingers against it. A few of your friends drag you off to the photo booth for the umpteenth time tonight, and Namjoon is left waiting for you.

Jungkook waits and observes Namjoon, wondering why you’d choose Namjoon over him. He thinks he could take the guy in the boxing ring. He’s too big and sluggish to move as fast as Jungkook. Indeed, he could knock Namjoon out with his right hook. But if it’s not a physical thing you’re looking for, then it’s an intellectual thing.

He shakes off the self-deprecating thoughts. Why doesn’t he go over and chat the guy up? Get to know him. It won’t hurt to find out what kind of guy he is.

There's a queue of friends waiting to take individual shots with you, and you look over to check whether Namjoon is all right. You notice Jungkook approaching and breathe a sigh of comfort, knowing he'll keep Namjoon company.

Jungkook stands up tall when he’s beside Namjoon. “Lavish party, huh?”

Namjoon turns to him and chuckles. “Yeah, she went all out for her 30th.” He cracks his neck and adjusts his bright pink blazer.

“Since you’ll be around, you should get used to it. ___ throws parties like this all the time.”

“She does?” Namjoon’s eyes widened with concern.

Jungkook pouts and nods. “You think this is bad? Last year, she rented a private island, and everyone who attended had to buy a plane ticket to her party.”

Namjoon gulps.

“Man–and now that you guys are together. I'm wishing nothing but the best for you," Jungkook shakes his head. "The last guy was going through it.”

“Last guy? What happened to the last guy?”

Jungkook glances in your direction, then back to Namjoon. “Oh, you guys haven’t had that conversation yet?”

“What conversation?”

“Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved.”

There’s a look of relief on Namjoon’s face. “Man, that guy must’ve been a psycho.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Oh no, no, no. The restraining order was against her!”

Namjoon shifts his position, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trust me, you don’t want to get on her bad side. Once, she took a bat to a neighbor’s car, thinking it was her boyfriend’s. Mind you, she was pretty drunk—and it was dark, but when she has an idea that you’re cheating on her, all hell breaks loose,” Jungkook tuts.

“Oh.”

Jungkook chuckles. “And don’t even get me started on her obsession with that one K-pop group, Seventeen. She practically has a shrine in her bedroom. Mingyu’s face is plastered on every square inch of her walls, and when they finally came on tour, she drained so much of her savings flying everywhere to see them—front row, I might add.”

Namjoon clears his throat. “I think I need a drink,” he says.

“But don’t worry, man, you’ll be fine!” Jungkook shouts as Namjoon walks away.

He lowers his head and rubs his face. He blames the alcohol for his stupidity. His string of lies is why you would never want to be with him.

Although Jungkook has spewed many lies to Namjoon, it doesn’t scare him off. The two of you are like two peas in a pod. And when he sees Namjoon jet off somewhere, Jungkook swoops in, hoping he’ll have a chance to talk to you before it’s too late.

“Hey!” Jungkook says out of breath. “Going home?”

“Yeah,” you beam a warm smile. “I’m pretty wiped.”

“I can take you home, and then maybe we can talk?”

You nod. “Mm, that sounds like a plan.”

You’ve always found it easy to talk to Jungkook. Even though he claims not to be good at chitchatting, he knows how to make you smile and laugh.

“Did you see Hoseok and Jenn trying to undress each other?” Jungkook chuckles.

“Jenn claims she thought Hoseok was a Ken doll,” you giggle. “I don’t know why they keep skirting around each other. They should date already.”

You two arrive outside your apartment. You unlock the keypad, leaving the door open. Turning back, you see Jungkook standing there. “Are you gonna come in or talk to me from out there?” you ask, shaking your head.

Jungkook walks through the door, closing it behind himself. He smooths down his pants and fixes the collar of his jacket. His gaze darts around the room as he prepares to say what’s on his mind.

“Can I change, and then we’ll talk?”

Jungkook nods, and you run off to your room.

With a heavy sigh, he takes a seat on the couch. He keeps shifting his weight, but nothing feels right. The sweat on his hands increases as the seconds pass by. He's never done it before, confessed his feelings.

Jungkook had rehearsed like he was up for a big audition but felt he’d stumble over his words and blurt out bleh-bleh-blahs.

You resurface a few seconds later, wearing an oversized t-shirt and what appears to be nothing underneath, but when you sit down, he catches a peek at your shorts.

“You wanted to talk?”

“Yeah, about us.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Us?”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyebrows knitted together, wondering who it could be this late at night. When you open it, you find Namjoon.

“Hey! You left your phone at the restaurant,” he says. He acknowledges Jungkook as he steps in.

“Oh, thank you! Ah–don’t leave yet! I have something to give to you, too.” You dash to your room, leaving Jungkook and Namjoon.

There’s a moment before Jungkook breaks the silence. He turns to Namjoon. “That shirt she’s wearing is from her ex-boyfriend. She sleeps in it every night because she misses him.”

Namjoon’s lips thin, and he nods.

“Trust me–you should run while you can,” Jungkook says, shaking his head.

He points to the small Seventeen merch collection sitting on a shelf in your living room. “See. It’s cute and innocent until it’s not.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Namjoon says reluctantly as he turns away, trying to focus on other things until you return.

You leave your room with a bag, handing it to Namjoon. “I washed your shirt and bought you a new one too.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to,” he reaches for the shirt, taking it out.

“I know, but I felt bad about ruining it.”

Namjoon chuckles. "I like how you're giving me a gift on your birthday."

You wave off his comment. "It's nothing. Thanks for returning my phone,” you say, walking him to the door. “I’ll see you later?”

He flashes a grin; his dimples etched deeply into those cheeks. You pull him down to kiss him on the cheek, barely catching the corner of his lips. You let it linger for a second longer, ensuring Jungkook can see it.

“Bye,” you whisper, closing the door behind him.

You stand with your back facing Jungkook. Clenching your jaw and your fists, you huff a breath. Turning around, you stare at the one person you thought was your friend.

“This is my ex-boyfriend’s shirt, and I sleep in it because I miss him?” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

Your glare silences Jeon Jungkook, and his deer-in-the-headlights appearance implies guilt.

You scoff and shake your head in disbelief. “Have you been sabotaging all my relationships? Tell me the truth.”

You remember Jimin and Theo and how conveniently Jungkook had been there after each breakup.

There’s still no word from Jungkook. He’s playing with the invisible hair on his chin before he stands. “Yeah, but it’s only because—”

“Because what!” you exclaim. Never in a million years did you think you’d be yelling at a good friend. “Because you want to marry me? Why didn’t you just ask me out, Kook?”

The nickname causes his heart to ache. His eyes darted to the floor, then at you. “Because...”

You lean forward, waiting for his excuse, but he doesn’t give you one. You’re only met with silence.

“Because you’re the kind of guy who lies and manipulates to get what he wants? Didn’t really think you were that kind of person.”

“I’m not—”

“You are! If you cared about me, you wouldn’t go around spreading lies. And to think I was going to marry you? God–you must think I’m fucking stupid.”

"No, I don't think that at all—" he counters, taking a step toward you, and you take a step back.

Licking your lips, you play with your bottom lip. "I—I don't even know who you are anymore."

"I'm the same person you met two years ago," he says. Jungkook steps toward you again, reaching out for you.

"Don't touch me," you warn. "Don't you ever talk to me again," you say, avoiding his gaze. "You should go, Kook."

Jungkook walks past you. He makes his way to the door—and when it shuts, you flinch.

Approaching your 30s, you figured you’d be crying because you’re likely to have a mid-life crisis and not because one of your good friends has lied to you for the last couple of years.

Jungkook has misled you throughout the week. You don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Your heart aches from the pain. Why did this hurt more than a breakup? You trusted him, even considered marrying him and spending the rest of your life with him. How could you be so naive? Maybe it was your distorted perception of love and relationships, and that’s how you ended up in this situation.

Maybe it's your fault and no one else's.

sunday.

It’s early. Too early for Jungkook’s taste.

He’s been tossing and turning all night. Wishing he could redo the last two years. Wishing he could’ve been honest from the beginning. Wishing you didn’t hate him right now.

Picking up his phone, he grumbles after seeing the time—six in the morning. There’s no way you’re up, he thinks. And there’s no way you’ll pick up his call either.

He assumes you’ve blocked him—wants nothing to do with him and doesn’t blame you.

The expression on your face is ingrained in his memory, and the lies he told are on a continuous loop. How would he win you back—if you’d let him, that is.

It’s that point in the romantic movie where the love interest finds the courage to go for it. Jungkook has nothing else to lose at this point. It’s now or never.

With your favorite iced coffee and pastry in hand, he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness. Beg for another chance to make things right.

Three knocks strike your door. No answer.

He gives it another moment before doing it again.

And nothing.

He pulls out his phone, searching for your contact. It rings several times and goes to voicemail. At least you didn’t block him, he thinks.

Should he wait here all day? In hopes you’ll leave your apartment?

Unless Namjoon has seen you or knows your whereabouts.

Jungkook figures, why not? What does he have to lose? He’s already lost his dignity.

Another three knocks, only this time it’s on Namjoon’s door. A few moments later, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

Namjoon’s eyes widened at the sight of Jungkook. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Have you seen or heard from ___?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry, man. I haven’t.”

The corners of Jungkook’s lips turn down, and he nods. “Fuck,” he mumbles, lowering his head. He turns on his heel, ready to leave.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

He turns back and hums.

“If you like her, be honest with her,” Namjoon says.

Jungkook rubs the back of his neck. “Did ___ tell you?”

Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head no. “I figured you were lying when you said she made everyone fly to a private island. She mentioned that she’s never flown before. So I put two and two together, and it was hard to ignore all the glares you gave me at the party.”

Jungkook closes his eyes, lowering his head. “I’m so sorry about all the lies I told you. None of them were true—except maybe the Mingyu thing. She does have an obsession with that guy.”

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry about coming between you two. But it’s no wonder she likes you. You have your head on straight, unlike me.”

A grin sweeps across Namjoon’s face. “It’s okay. I get it, man. I’ve been there before—not the lying, but I’ve been head over heels for someone. ___ is cool, and you seem like a good guy. Just…don’t give up on her, okay?”

Jungkook’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What about you guys?”

“Huh? Me and ___?” Jungkook hums. “We’ve been out on one date, and you’ve known her for…?

“Two years.”

“You have more history with her than I do.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell lies.”

Namjoon steps forward, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You’d be a fool to give up now. Trust me, you don’t want to live with the what ifs and what could have been.”

“Um, here,” Jungkook says, handing Namjoon the iced coffee and pastry bag. “I don’t want it to go to waste.”

He bids Namjoon goodbye, and as he’s driving home, he stares off into space, pondering Namjoon’s words.

What if you never want to talk to him again? What if he loses you?

He only wanted his chance with you; whenever he gathered the courage to do so, someone always came into the picture before him. He’s realized how much his lies caused more harm than good. He was cheating his way into your heart, which is unfair to you and him.

You peek out when the elevator doors open, ensuring the coast is clear. You've seen the missed calls and texts but needed more time to be ready to face Jeon Jungkook. That's why you've been hiding out at Jenn's all day. But alas, you had to go home and face your fears.

Your door accidentally slams when you go in. Shit.

It’s not like Jungkook’s been waiting around for you, right? Though, you didn’t want to make it known that you were home.

Not even ten minutes after you’ve arrived, there’s a knock on your door. Peering through your viewfinder, you check if the coast is clear and unlock your door. You grab Namjoon's hand, pulling him into the apartment.

"Whoa–miss me that much?" he jokes, setting down the iced coffee and pastry bag.

"What's that?"

"Jungkook dropped it off this morning, but you weren't here. Have you been hiding?"

You lower your head. "Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips. “He’s in love with you, you know?”

You ignore the coffee and pastry bag and sit on the couch. “It’s a weird way to show that you like someone by lying and sabotage.”

“I think it’s cute,” Namjoon chuckles, sitting beside you.

Disbelief is written all over your face: eyes wide, brows lifted, jaw open, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d say single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.”

“Is this a weird ‘guy code?’ Am I missing something?”

He shakes his head. “I get where he’s coming from. Does it suck that he lied instead of saying what he wanted? Yeah, but maybe he didn’t know how to say it because he feared he’d say nonsense in front of you. I know the feeling–where you like someone so much, you’re afraid of looking dumb.”

You ponder Namjoon’s words, sipping on your iced coffee. “You seem chatty. Does that mean you don’t go dumb around me?” you ask dryly.

Namjoon laughs. “I get butterflies and excitement every time I walk out my door, hoping I’d bump into you.”

“But?”

“But you should figure things out with Jungkook, and then we’ll go from there.”

It’s silly—the glow-in-the-dark stars that are plastered on your ceiling. Half of them threaten to fall, and the other half are stuck on so tight it’ll take off the paint.

“You’ve never had glow-in-the-dark stars before?” Jungkook asks. “Let’s get some.”

The only reason why they’re up there in the first place is because of him. Jungkook was comforting you after your breakup with Jimin.

You throw your duvet over your head, screaming into it. How could you have been so blind? So stupid? How are you supposed to face him again with your friend group? Or alone?

This past week was perfect—at least, you thought it was. But you’re second-guessing every interaction, every conversation, every laugh, every touch.

If you hadn’t met Namjoon, could you have fallen in love with Jungkook?

The more you thought about it, the more you hated that you were falling for him. Maybe Namjoon was just an excuse not to explore a relationship with Jungkook. Maybe you didn’t want to ruin your friendship, but then again, what did it matter because it’s been sabotaged by Jungkook himself?

How would you get out of this mess?

monday.

A notification ding shows up on your phone.

[ Tattoo appointment - 6 PM ]

Shit. You completely forgot about your tattoo.

You go through your text messages, finding the Instagram profile of Kai, who’s supposed to tattoo you. You frown when you see a cancellation fee and that the cancellation should’ve been done two days before the appointment. Now, you have to mentally prepare yourself for getting your first tattoo.

The recommendations on your YouTube only show videos of ‘how much does getting a tattoo hurt.’ You know the pain that goes into a needle puncturing your skin. The question was, how high was your pain threshold?

When you walk into the shop, a bell chimes. It’s in pristine condition, as one would expect from a tattoo parlor. You’re greeted by a girl dressed in a black latex v-neck top. A sunray heart tattoo sits right on her chest.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Kai.”

She clicks through her computer and beams a warm smile. “For ___?” You nod. “Is Jungkook coming too?” she asks.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” Was he planning on getting something, too? You didn’t think he’d show after everything went down.

“Kai is finishing up with a client, and he’ll come get you when he’s ready.”

You flash a small smile, taking a seat in their lounge. You’re picking at your nail beds and bouncing your leg. You’re trying to focus on anything other than what will happen soon.

A light noise of whirring fills the room. You close your eyes, concentrating on your breathing. It’s a small tattoo. There’s nothing to be afraid of, you think.

A part of you wishes Jungkook was here to hold your hand like he said he would. It's dumb even to want him to be here. But after spending so much time with him this past week, you admit you miss him.

"I’m ready for you,” Kai says.

You take a deep breath and follow him to his workspace.

“Nervous?” he asks.

“Yeah, it’s my first tattoo.”

“You’ll do great. I know it,” Kai smiles, sitting at his desk. He grabs his iPad. “Okay, what are we getting today?” Kai asks.

“Um, I turned 30 yesterday, so I wanted to get the birth flower for September,” you say, showing him the inspiration photos.

“Ah, Happy Birthday,” Kai grins. “Birth flowers are a great choice. Any idea where you want it and the size?”

"On the back of my neck, I don't want anything too big. Two to three inches."

"Oh–a woman who knows what she wants. There was no hesitation," Kai teases. "Cool–so, I'll sketch out a few options, and then we'll go from there. Sound good?"

You press your lips together and nod. As Kai's working on your sketch, you stroll around his workspace, looking at the illustrations hung up. There's traditional and fine line art, and you recognize a drawing of a snake—it looks like the one Jungkook has on his arm.

“See anything else you like?”

“I, um, recognize some of your work. You’ve tattooed my friend, Jungkook,” you note, turning back to look through more of Kai’s sketches.

Somehow, your nerves have finally calmed down. The whirring noise from the tattoo gun is like white noise to you, drowning everything out. You’re lost in the intricate detailing of the drawings. Tattooing is true art, you think. But instead of a traditional canvas or paper, it’s forever inked on someone’s skin.

“Okay, let me know what you think of these.” Kai shows you the iPad with a few flowers drawn out.

“You’re so quick,” you comment as you review your options. “Let’s go with this one.” You love how delicate and dainty the tattoo looks.

“If you need a break at any time, just let me know,” Kai gives a warm smile. “I apologize for the weird positioning, but I’ll need you to lay on your stomach, and your head will hang off the table.”

Your lips thin when you catch his gaze. You remove your zip-up hoodie and place it on a chair with your bag. Kai prints the design on transfer paper, putting the placement on the back of your neck. He hands you a mirror, ensuring it’s in the correct spot.

“Alright, let’s do this,” he says.

Once you’re on the table, the once-soothing noise of the tattoo gun flips a switch, and sweat builds up in the palms of your hands. The blood rushes to your head as your head is hanging off the table. You can see Kai’s feet as he steps on the foot pedal, ensuring his equipment works correctly.

You take a deep breath, trying to exhale fear and anxiety, but nothing works. The tattoo gun sounds closer, and the needle inches away from you. Your fists clench up, and you close your eyes, hoping it’ll be over quickly.

You can feel the latex glove on your back as Kai’s ready to outline the design. You can do this, you think.

With eyes still closed, fists clenched—you’re ready.

The shop's bell chimes again, but you’re too focused on this needle about to prick your skin. You can feel another presence. Their warmth is radiating on you. You figure it’s just the girl from the front, so you don’t bother to open your eyes.

Your fist unclenches, and not because of your own doing. It’s whoever is beside you. Opening your eyes, you see a pair of black motorcycle denim tucked into leather stomper boots.

“Hey—my man,” Kai stops and acknowledges. “Good to see you, Jungkook.”

“Hey,” Jungkook replies. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Nah, you’re right on time. We just started. I’m sure ___ appreciates you being here,” Kai notes, returning to tattooing you.

You didn’t want to admit it, but having Jungkook’s presence was comforting. A part of you wanted to be stubborn and pull your arm away, but considering that a needle was piercing your skin—it wasn’t a good idea.

Jungkook laces his hand with yours; his thumb lightly grazes over your skin. He leans forward, whispering, “Hi.”

You’re unsure if the shiver running through your spine is because of the needle or Jungkook.

While lying on this tattoo table, you’re at war with yourself. An angel on one shoulder tells you to stay strong and not give in because he’s holding your hand. The devil, on the other hand, is telling you you’re a simp and can’t resist when a man is fawning over you.

You hate that the devil is right, and you’re even considering Namjoon’s words, ‘You gotta give the guy some credit. He went out of his way to make sure you’d stay single so he could finally have his chance with you. That sounds like dedication to me.’

Was it dedication or delusion?

You won’t lie. You’ve done questionable things when it came to love, too, so you couldn’t blame Jungkook. Maybe you should hear him out and see what he says for himself.

You’re silent, letting Kai do his thing. He and Jungkook chit-chat about life and future tattoos. The buzzing mechanical hum from the tattoo gun is constant and annoying—you’re growing numb to it like you’re growing numb to the pain.

But Jungkook’s touch? It makes you tingle. You’re keenly aware of how his thumb strokes against your knuckle—the constant squeezes, reassuring your anxiety when the pain shoots down your spine.

Through the years, that’s what Jungkook’s always been—he soothes your pain.

Maybe he’s responsible for your current pain - the shattered relationships and this tattoo you’re getting, but he always has a back-up plan: himself. He’s the shoulder to cry on, the hand to hold—the constant, consistent one who shows up repeatedly.

He’s confusing but calming, and you’re annoyed at how much you don’t mind his touch. Your breathing slows, and your shoulders relax as you sink into the cushioned table.

“Almost done,” Kai notes.

That was fast. Fifteen minutes–tops.

Kai finishes cleaning the tattoo, and after you stand up from your awkward position, you’re face to face with Jungkook. Once again, Jungkook resorted back to his favorite color: black. He’s in an oversized long-sleeve shirt and jeans, and there’s a silver chain adorning his neck.

His doe eyes twinkle and the corners of his mouth curve up. “The tattoo looks good on you,” he says softly. “Do you wanna see?”

Even with a mirror, the placement makes it hard to see the finished product. You grab your phone, open the camera app, and hand it over to Jungkook. You turn around, facing the mirror, holding up your hair. You catch Jungkook’s gaze and look away. His hand gently touches the nape of your neck, removing a stray hair. He snaps a few photos, handing your phone back.

“It looks beautiful on you.”

You mumble a word of thanks, grabbing your things, attempting to flee from his presence.

Pulling out your wallet to pay for your tattoo, you head to the front, but the girl stops you.

“Jungkook already paid,” she says.

The nape of your neck warms up, and your nostrils flare. You nod at the girl. Bumping into Jungkook on the way out, you stuff your wallet back into your bag, and Jungkook follows you, catching up.

“Why did you do that?” you ask, glaring at Jungkook.

"Because it's your birthday present. I couldn't let you pay for it."

You narrow your eyes, giving him the once over. “Why? So you can tell the next guy I date how we have matching tattoos and scare him off?” you retort, brushing past him.

Jungkook cards his hand through his hair. “Come on, that’s not fair,” he shouts, running after you again.

He calls out to you, making you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you breathe a heavy sigh. “You’re right. It's not fair,” you give him a wry smile. “But doesn’t it sound like something you’d say? Mr. Liar Liar Pants on Fire.”

The third time must be the charm because he’s chasing after you again.

“Hey, can we talk, please?” he implores as his eyes scan your face.

You zig-zag around him.

He repeats by running and standing in front of you. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

“Watch me,” you retort, attempting to flee again.

Jungkook holds his hand up. “Just hear me out, and if you never want to talk to me again after that, then so be it."

You huff. “Only if you drop me off at home,” you say, crossing your arms. You don’t feel like taking the subway; it’s the least he could do.

With hands in your lap, you’re waiting for Jungkook to say something, but he’s as quiet as a mouse. He’s missed two exits and been driving in circles, going past your apartment complex for the fourth time. You wouldn’t be surprised if a police car starts following you, considering how suspicious the two of you look.

You can’t take it anymore—the endless dancing around this conversation. “I thought you wanted to talk?” you ask as your eyes flick in his direction for a moment.

He straightens his posture, gripping the steering wheel and focusing on the road. "I'm, uh, I’m sorry for telling all those lies. It was stupid of me. I should’ve been honest with you from the beginning.”

You bury your face in your hands before turning to him. “If you liked me, why didn’t you tell me?”

You had come up with many scenarios in your head and thought back to your conversations and interactions with him. Jungkook had so many chances to say something, but he never did.

Jungkook shrugs and looks at you briefly before returning to the road.

“It’s easy being your friend, but to be your boyfriend? That scares me.”

You get it. Opening your heart, being vulnerable, and giving your everything to one person is terrifying. Sometimes, it feels like days, months, and years are wasted with one person when it doesn’t work out.

“Scared you’d screw it up?” you ask, turning to him.

Jungkook hums as he pulls up to your apartment complex.

With a sigh, you admit, “You were on your way to being a pretty good boyfriend.”

You hate that you found him so sweet and cute, even after everything that’s happened.

“I was?” he questions with widened eyes and turns off the ignition. He shifts to face you.

“Yeah,” you chuckle. Your hand lingers on the door handle. “Walk me up?”

The two of you are on opposite sides of the elevator. Jungkook’s leaning on the metal bar behind himself with his legs crossed in front of him.

He hangs his head before looking up at you. "What if I had been truthful from the beginning? Do you think we would’ve been together?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “I don’t know, Kook. I guess we’ll never know.”

When the elevator arrives at your floor, it chimes, and you exit, and Jungkook follows. You stop outside your door, watching as Jungkook leans his shoulder against the wall, facing you.

You can tell when something is brewing in Jungkook’s mind. You’ve been friends long enough for you to notice some tendencies.

With an eyebrow lifted and his tongue poking through the inside of his cheek, he’s ready to lay something on you. He licks his lips, eyes flick to yours.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same way,” he says.

You can feel your stomach somersaulting when he doesn’t break eye contact. Your heart rate rises as you work harder to pump more blood than usual.

There were small, fleeting moments where you could picture yourself with him: weekend mornings with breakfast in bed and late-night cuddles on the couch.

“I’m trying my hardest not to feel something,” you confess. As much as he was scared to screw it up, so were you. You’ve never dated a friend. You’ve met all your ex-boyfriends through mutual friends. You’ve built fantasies of what a perfect boyfriend and relationship should look like, and Jungkook wasn't perfect–but neither were you.

Jungkook moves closer. “So you like me too?” His eyes dart from your parted lips to your eyes.

“I don’t not like you,” you say softly, stepping forward as you play with his silver chain.

"So where does this leave us?" He’s searching your face for an answer.

As always, your heart is at war with your head. The sensible thing to do is to stay friends. The foolish thing is to see how this could pan out. What if you could get your happily ever after?

"What would you do if I was yours?" you ask.

"If you were mine?"

You hum.

"If you were mine, I'd spend every waking minute with you. Asking anything and everything that comes to mind. I want to know what makes you happy and sad. I want to know what you love and hate. I want to know everything your heart desires." Jungkook eliminates the distance. "I'd pepper you with kisses all day–on your neck, cheeks, forehead, lips–everywhere,” he says softly as his eyes never leave yours. "If you were mine, I'd never lie to you again. I'd love you with every breath and never let you go." He’s eye to eye with you, hands cupping your face. “I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I was an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But if this is the only time I could be with you, I'll take it."

You gulp. Jungkook’s saying all the right things, everything a girl could want. You hate it. You hate that you’re a sucker for heartfelt moments and love confessions. Neverending cartwheels occupy your stomach. The little gymnast in there is going for the gold–doing back flips and leaps; there’s no way to stop them. Your heart beats faster for him than for anyone else–even more than Namjoon.

All it took was a silly agreement and a few lies to make you realize you didn’t want a perfect boyfriend or relationship. Forget getting married by a certain age. Forget the expectations of you instilled by society. This boy was a bit messy, a bit ruined, but a beautiful disaster.

Whatever it looked like, you wanted him.

You take another second to look at him because what you want to say next will change your friendship.

“Kiss me,” you say softly, your gaze dropping to his lips.

“Are you sure you want me to kiss you?”

You nod.

If there’s one more thing to add to Jungkook’s list of fears—it’s ruining your friendship.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do,” he whispers.

Restless is how you would describe Jungkook. Restless when it came to telling your exes lies. Restless in his ability to sit still. Restless as he chews on his bottom lip–it could be how he incessantly licks his lips or just lacks hydration. You’ve never noticed before how badly he needs chapstick.

But Jungkook’s within touching distance of your lips, and all you can think about is how much he needs chapstick. Your sweet peach one, you think.

Maybe you should offer him some.

“Then don’t.”

It’s slow and gentle when he kisses you. He’s taking his time. There’s no urgency. No tongue, no hands beneath your shirt, or roaming your body. Nothing like that.

It’s like he’s been waiting so long to do this. It’s like he’s forgotten any other mouth existed but yours. You’ll forget your name or where you are when you finally break away from his lips.

He consumes every thought you have, and this is what you were afraid of–that you’ll become addicted to his kisses. You’re unsure how long you can stand before he has to carry you to bed.

His breath is warm and sweet. You love him breathing life into you and taking it away over and over. Your hands curl into his shirt, tugging him as close as possible. Tilting your head, you open your mouth to catch more air before kissing him again. Lips upon lips are discovering each other.

Jungkook pulls away, his nose nudging yours. He kisses the corner of your mouth and your cheek. He’s on his tippy toes, kissing your eyelids, then your forehead.

“Okay–don’t stop,” you say, breathless, reaching for another kiss. “It’s for scientific reasons.”

He chuckles. “Are you researching how long someone can go without breathing?”

“Mmhm.” You reach again, but he pulls back, making you pout.

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier, ‘Where does this leave us?’ he asks.

You realize he won’t kiss you until you answer him. You cock your head to the side. “I like you, but it will take a minute for me to trust you again.”

Jungkook nods. “Mm, I get that. So…?”

“So–we should take this slow and see where it goes.”

He sucks in his lips, trying to suppress a smile. “What about Namjoon?”

The two of you hear someone clearing their throat, and you look in their direction as they appear from the hallway. It’s Namjoon, giving you a quick wave.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt,” he says as he walks to his door. “I saw you guys when I turned the corner, but then I ducked back into the hallway, waiting for you to…finish.” Namjoon presses his lips together into a smile.

You turn to Jungkook. “I’ll be one second.”

With a sprint in your step, you head toward Namjoon. “I’m so sorry you saw that.”

Namjoon laughs. “Why are you sorry? I knew I didn’t have a chance against Jungkook. I was waiting for you to realize you wanted to be with him.”

Your eyes widened. “You knew?”

His eyebrows raise, and he nods. “Mmhm.” He leans forward. “We had fun, but look at the guy.” Namjoon glances at Jungkook. “I would’ve felt like the back-up until you two got your shit together. You don’t have to worry about me. Go–he’s waiting for you.”

“Thanks Namjoon.” A sense of relief rushes over you, and you’re thankful he understands.

Returning to Jungkook, you’re no longer looking at your back-up plan. He’s the one you want to wake up next to, the one you want to laugh with, smile with–he’s become your first choice.

He extends his hand for yours. “So, should I get my tux pressed?”

You deadpan.

“We’re practically engaged now, right?” he jokes before leaning in for a kiss.

You press your finger into his taut chest, pushing him away. “Be fucking for real, Jungkook. We’re going inside and watching my favorite rom-com–While You Were Sleeping, so you can see the consequences of how lying gets you in trouble.”

“Oh, I love that one! It's the one where she pretends to be engaged to the guy in a coma, but she falls for the brother?”

You slowly turn to him, mouth agape. “You really have seen a lot of rom-coms, haven’t you?”

“I may have learned a thing or two from them.”

“Yeah–lying!” You scold him as you enter the apartment. The two of you continue bickering back and forth.

Who knew you’d be living in a romantic film of your own?

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jungkook #jeon jungkook

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