#and also the one who looks through the texts for knowledge on what they face

[wigglermansblog]

REFORGED

[ Transformers x Marine! Reader ]

Next

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A/n : This is more of a crossover between two shows I like. Transformer x One Piece. This will be a review chapter and if the story gets a lot of attention , I'll keep it coming. For the Transformers, I don't choose any continuity and build up my own universe.

Also, sorry for not being active. I've been busy with work for the past months.

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P R O L O G U E

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"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I have to do this— please, forgive me!"

The man beneath you wailed, his hands trembling—slick with your blood. The kitchen knife is buried deep in your heart.

He stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor, his sobs loud and broken. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, his body wracked with guilt. You’d seen that look before—the hollow, haunted eyes of someone who had been forced to commit an unforgivable act. Someone who had been cornered, crushed under the weight of desperation.

"It's... okay..." you rasped, copper flooding your mouth with each word. "It's not your fault. Please... don't blame yourself..."

Your voice was weak, your breath shallow. You smiled through the pain, your lips trembling. His breath hitched, eyes wide with disbelief as he clutched his chest.

"Take care... of yourself… and your family..."

Your body lurched forward and crumpled to the cold floor, the metal of the blade clinking softly as it slid free. A pool of blood expanded beneath you, warm and spreading.

The man’s cries were the last sound you heard—raw, anguished, broken.

And then—

.

.

.

.

You expected darkness. An end. The peaceful embrace of the Sanzu River, where perhaps your family waited on the other side with open arms.

Instead, you felt cold.

A biting, unnatural chill.

And the low hum of something mechanical.

.

.

.

Your eyes snapped open.

Cold metal surrounded you. Panels of glowing glyphs pulsed in hues you couldn’t name. You were enclosed in a pod, dimly lit from within by an eerie blue light. It hissed loudly, and with a mechanical clunk, the hatch released.

HSSSSSH—

The pod’s door split open. You stumbled forward and crashed to the ground with a heavy clank. Disoriented, you looked down at your hands—except they weren’t hands.

They were metallic. Sleek and angular, with glowing lines of energon coursing beneath the plating.

Your fingers moved, jointed and smooth like a machine. You gasped, the sound rattling through a new, unfamiliar throat. You scrambled back in shock, metal scraping against metal.

"What in the—"

Your voice sounded distorted. Echoed. Then suddenly, your vision was flooded with glowing symbols.

[ Welcome Online : XXXX ]

[ Body Status : Stable ]

[ Energon Levels : Medium ]

[ Alt-Mode : None ]

The glyphs flickered, then disappear. You blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what just happened. The text was alien—but somehow, you understood it. Like the knowledge had been placed into your mind without permission.

You turned your arms over, inspecting them. Your limbs were metallic, the plating smooth and sharp-edged. Your movements were shaky, like a newborn deer testing its legs.

What happened to you?

What happened to your human body? Why were you metal? What are you?

You barely had time to think when—

BOOM!

The entire structure shuddered from an explosion above. Dust and sparks rained down. You tried to stand, only to collapse again. Your legs weren’t used to supporting this frame. The second explosion shook the floor beneath you.

BOOM!!! CRASH!!!

This one was closer. A portion of the ceiling gave way, a massive chunk of debris crashing down only a few meters away. Instinct took over. You scrambled to a nearby pipeline running along the wall and used it for support. Your metal fingers gripped tightly as you hauled yourself upright.

You staggered forward, each step heavy, your balance unsteady. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t afford to.

Up ahead, a stairwell.

You took the stairs slowly, gripping the rail. Metal creaked beneath your weight with every step. When you finally reached the top, you shoved open the door—

And the sight that greeted you took your breath away.

A night sky, vast and star-strewn—but not peaceful. The city was in ruins. Towers burned in the distance, their skeletal remains glowing with molten steel. The air smelled of smoke, ash, and scorched metal. The ground trembled with distant impacts.

Then—something zipped overhead.

You looked up. Two sleek aircraft zip across the sky. Its engine roars very loudly like an enraged beast and they weren’t like anything from your world. They twisted mid-flight, their bodies shifting, contorting—

—Transforming.

With grinding, mechanical grace, both aircraft morphed into towering humanoid machines. One was bulky and bristled with armor. The other, leaner and faster. Sparks flew as they collided mid-air, exchanging blows with thunderous force.

Your eyes widened.

Robots.

Living, sentient robots.

Another explosion rocked the ground near you, snapping you from your shock. You dove behind a fallen pillar as debris rained down, one hand shielding your head.

The battle raged around you, echoing in your ears like a storm. Lasers streaked across the sky. Missiles detonated in midair. Metal clashed on metal in a brutal ballet of destruction.

You gritted your teeth and pulled yourself up, limbs shaking.

This… this was a battlefield.

Not unlike Marineford.

Except you were no longer a human Marine.

You were something else now. Something forged in metal.

But your heart—whatever it had become—still beat with purpose. You had no allies for now. You have no idea who was fighting who. But one thing was certain. Firstly....

You have to get out of here.

.

.

.

[ End of Prologue ]

[taryn40k]

... Ok one more for the kids. XD @lazywriter-artist

[yoomiwrites]

Not cute

Summary: Law isn't as mature, cold and stoic as seemed – no, he is cute. And awkward. Truly. ! GN reader ! You perspective.

Notes: I love Law. He my baby. But, since I know everything bout him (yes, I even know THAT one figurine), I also assume that he is not like, well, most people think he is. I mean, I could go on and explain everything, but I won't. I had shit and giggles while I wrote this in the night (couldn't sleep and all your love really motivated me). Even now, not being half asleep, I like it. So, I thought I'd already give you the winner of the poll! Enjoy!

Part two

♡

You had always thought Trafalgar Law was a mature man.

From the moment you joined the Heart Pirates, he had carried himself with an air of authority—commanding, sharp-witted, and composed. His knowledge of medicine and tactics made him a formidable captain, and his often-cold demeanor made it clear he didn’t tolerate foolishness. You respected him for that.

But then, you started noticing the cracks.

It was small things at first—like the way his lips twitched upward whenever Bepo did something particularly endearing, or how his fingers would absently toy with the coins he kept in his pocket. Then came the comics. You had stumbled upon them one evening when you went to grab a medical text from his cabin, only to find a neat stack of well-read books featuring over-the-top action scenes and exaggerated expressions.

And then there was the bread.

You had never seen a man react so viscerally to something so harmless. The way his expression soured, nose wrinkling in utter distaste, was so dramatically childish that it almost made you laugh out loud the first time you saw it.

Yes, Trafalgar Law was not just a man who had grown up too fast—he was still, in some ways, a child beneath it all.

And so, you decided to conjure those reactions more often.

It started subtly. You’d leave tiny, cute trinkets on his desk—once, a small plush bear you claimed was from Shachi and Penguin. Another time, you placed a particularly round and fluffy piece of bread on his plate at dinner, watching as he scowled, dramatically shoving it onto Bepo’s plate instead.

When you pointed out a particularly adorable sea otter floating by the ship one day, he had scoffed—but his gaze lingered a little too long, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach out.

It became a quiet game between the two of you—though Law didn’t seem to realize it until much later.

One evening, while the crew was docked at a small island, you sat on the Polar Tang’s deck, flipping through a book when a shadow fell over you. Looking up, you found Law standing there, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable, but there was a slight crease in his brow, a sure sign he had been thinking about something for far too long.

“You’re doing it on purpose,” he said flatly.

You blinked. “Doing what?”

He exhaled through his nose, clearly unimpressed by your feigned innocence. “The comics. The plush. The damn bread.” His jaw tightened. “You like… that.”

You considered him for a moment, watching the way his ears tinged slightly pink, the way his fingers tapped a steady beat against his arm. Finally, you closed your book and stood, looking him in the eye.

“I do.”

His brows furrowed further. “Why?”

You gave a small shrug. “Because it’s you, Law. The real you.”

That caught him off guard. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He seemed completely thrown off by the simple honesty in your words, and before you knew it, his hand lifted, tugging his hat low over his face.

“…I have work to do,” he muttered, turning abruptly and striding away, shoulders stiff.

You were still watching the spot where Law had disappeared, trying to make sense of the strange flutter in your chest, when another voice cut through the quiet.

“Enjoying yourself?”

You turned to see Ikkaku standing beside you, arms crossed, lips curled in amusement.

You met her gaze evenly. “What do you mean?”

She jerked her chin toward the stairs Law had just fled down. “You like seeing him like that, don’t you?”

You didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

Ikkaku hummed knowingly. “Figured. It’s not every day you get to see Trafalgar Law flustered.”

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “He tries too hard to act composed. It’s nice seeing him be himself.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ikkaku waved a hand dismissively. Then she tilted her head at you, eyes gleaming. “But have you ever noticed something else?”

Your brow furrowed slightly. “Something else?”

She leaned in just a little. “It’s always you.”

You stared at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

Ikkaku grinned. “You’re always trying to get a reaction out of him—but have you noticed who he reacts to?”

Something about her tone made your stomach twist.

She patted your shoulder and walked off, leaving you standing there, silent.

And then you started thinking.

The way Law’s gaze always seemed to settle on you when you spoke, even when you were talking to someone else. The way he never scolded you the way he did Shachi or Penguin, even when you were obviously pushing his buttons. The way he had just reacted—not with irritation, not with exasperation, but with embarrassment.

Oh.

Oh no.

A slow, creeping realization settled over you, and for once, you weren’t sure how to handle it.

You weren’t blushing, of course. That would be ridiculous. But your heart was beating far too fast for comfort.

The captain, in love with you? Certainly not.

You couldn’t sleep.

It wasn’t like you to let something rattle you, but Ikkaku’s words kept circling in your mind. You turned on your side. Then onto your back. Then onto your other side. But no matter what, you couldn’t shake the thought.

The idea of Trafalgar Law—your captain—being in love with you was absurd. You weren’t the type to entertain ridiculous fantasies. And yet… the weight of his gaze, the way he had reacted earlier, the way he always reacted—

You exhaled sharply and sat up. This was useless.

A walk. A drink. Something to clear your head.

You slipped out of your quarters and padded down the silent hallways of the Polar Tang, making your way toward the kitchen. But when you pushed open the door, you weren’t alone.

Law stood by the counter, back to you, pouring himself a cup of tea. His hair was messier than usual, as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. His hoodie hung loosely off his frame, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

He turned at the sound of your steps, his tired eyes meeting yours.

“…You too?” he asked.

You nodded, stepping inside. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Law didn’t say anything as you walked over and grabbed a cup for yourself. The silence between you was surprisingly comfortable, the occasional clink of porcelain filling the air.

If you hadn’t been thinking so hard about him before, you would have left it at that. You would have let it be another quiet moment between the two of you.

But your mind was still tangled with Ikkaku’s words. In your mind, you battled against her words.

And maybe that’s why, without thinking, you muttered, “Don’t worry, I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

A pause.

A sharp, quiet breath.

Then, in a voice so calm, so matter-of-fact that it took a moment to register—

“But I am.”

The world went still.

Your fingers tightened around your cup. You turned your head, slowly, as if movement itself might break the moment.

Law was staring at his tea, his expression unreadable, except for the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly.

You weren’t the type to let things shake you. But this?

This stunned you.

He realized it a second too late. His lips parted just slightly, as if to take it back—but the words had already been said. There was no erasing them now.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Law, the man who always had a plan, the strategist, the genius doctor—looked utterly lost. His fingers flexed against his cup, his shoulders stiff as if preparing for some inevitable response.

Finally, you set your tea down carefully, leveling him with a look. “…What?”

It was the best you could do.

Law exhaled sharply, tipping his hat forward to shield his face, as if that would somehow save him.

“…Forget it,” he muttered, turning toward the door.

Like hell.

Law tried to leave.

You didn’t let him.

The moment he turned, you stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve. He froze—not yanking away, not looking at you, just standing there, tension running through him like a live wire.

“Forget what?” you asked, your voice steady.

His fingers twitched. “…It doesn’t matter.”

You tightened your grip. “It does.”

Finally, slowly, he turned his head just enough to glance at you. His eyes were sharp, searching, but there was something else there—something hesitant, something uncertain.

You exhaled, forcing yourself to be honest. “I don’t know what I’m feeling for you,” you admitted. “But I know I don’t want to forget this. And I know that… I want to be with you.”

Law inhaled sharply through his nose, his lips parting slightly, his whole body locking up as if you had just struck him with Room.

He looked—

Embarrassed.

Genuinely, painfully embarrassed. And still, still, he tried to escape. He turned again, this time slower, as if hoping you wouldn’t stop him.

You refused to let him slip away.

So, you did something reckless.

“I don’t even know how to use the washing machine properly,” you blurted out.

Law froze mid-step.

“I was the one who turned all the boiler suits pink,” you added.

His head tilted just slightly, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“And sometimes,” you continued, voice as calm as ever, “I have very intimate dreams about you.”

This time, Law nearly choked. His shoulders hunched, his ears instantly burning red beneath his hat. “What—”

“You’re not the only one embarrassed here,” you stated simply. “So don’t run away.”

For a moment, Law just stood there, hands clenched into fists, face half-hidden by his hat.

Then, slowly, he turned back to you.

Something in his expression had shifted. His gaze was still hesitant, still unsure, but there was something determined beneath it now. His fingers flexed at his sides before curling into loose fists.

And then—without a word—he stepped closer.

You stayed perfectly still as he reached for you, as his fingers hesitated just inches away before finally brushing against your cheek. It was uncertain, clumsy, like he wasn’t entirely sure he was allowed to do this.

But you didn’t pull away.

So he leaned in, just slightly. Just enough for his lips to press against yours.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t smooth.

It was awkward and hesitant and entirely, unmistakably him.

And when he pulled back, lips barely lingering against yours, he swallowed hard and muttered, “…You turned the boiler suits pink?”

You exhaled a quiet laugh. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

“…It’s my crew.”

“Not just your crew anymore.”

Law stared at you for a moment before exhaling sharply, tipping his hat forward to hide his face again.

“…Shambles,” he muttered.

And with that, he vanished—leaving you standing alone in the kitchen, lips still tingling, heart pounding, and very much not forgetting any of this.

PS. Yes, he is probably dying in his room. ♡

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| What’s Your Favorite Scary Movie? ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After accidentally revealing that you have a masked man kink, Bucky starts taking it to the next level.

Warnings: Smut- MDNI please!, oral sex (both ways!!), edging?, masturbation (F), praise kink, cursing, light stalking, breaking in, harassing texts/calls, and lots of angst.

Word Count: 4.3

A/Ns: Hi babes! This was going to be a short story but she came out kinda long, so I'm going to make it a 2 parter. Don't judge me 🙈 I looove masked men. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it. This is also my first time getting more explicit with smut so don't judge me too harshly! xoxo

Snuggled up to Bucky under a comfy blanket with a bowl of extra buttery and salty popcorn, lights turned all the way down, you finally convinced him to watch the movie Scream. While you’ve seen it many times before and are aware of all the jump scares, you still cling onto him a little extra tight in preparation while he is completely unphased. About halfway through the movie, you hear Bucky snort.

“What?” You ask, looking up at him slightly. His face is illuminated by the glow of the tv.

“Something you want to tell me, Doll?” One side of his mouth is tugged up in amusement.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” Confused, you sit up to look at him.

He just shakes his head, grinning, “I’m talking about how every time a masked man comes on that screen,” he points to the tv, “you press those pretty little thighs of yours together.”

Your cheeks instantly flush, “You noticed that?”

“I pay attention to everything when it comes to my girl.” Bucky leans back more, resting his arm on top of the couch still grinning, “Tell me about it.” His eyes narrow slightly, something a bit darker lurking, intrigued by this knowledge.

“I don’t know… it’s just like,” you brush your hair behind your ears suddenly feeling embarrassed, “kind of like a kink? A fantasy maybe? There’s just something so dark and exhilarating about an unknown man behind a mask that stalks and is obsessed with you. The anonymity of it I guess?”

By the time you’re done explaining, your hands unknowingly gripped and crossed your chest. Blinking rapidly, you let go and focus back on Bucky who is just watching you intensely.

He nods and purses his lips lightly, “Maybe if I keep watching this movie, I’ll want a masked man for myself,” He teases.

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” You grab a fistful of popcorn and throw it at him, sending you both into a laughing frenzy.

"You're cleaning that up, not me." Bucky laughs.

Him and his messes.

He scoops you in close to his body to finish the movie, and later that night he showed you that no masked man from a movie could ever compare to him.

Three weeks later.

While trying to grab your phone and keys out of your bag, you accidentally drop the stack of mail you had just picked up from the landlord’s office on the doormat.

“Shit!” You mutter to yourself. Bending down to pick it up, something catches your eye. Your apartment door is cracked open.

You stand up, discarding the mail and push open the door, “Hello?” You call out, “Bucky?” There’s no response.

Taking a few steps in, nothing looks out of place or any evidence that someone seems to have broken in. You start going through each room, keeping your phone firmly in your hand just in case. But there’s nothing. Walking out of the bedroom you decide you’re going to call Bucky to see how far away he is since he was on his way over, when you find him standing in the kitchen.

“OH! Fuck me-” You jump at the sight of him and grab your chest.

“Hey, Doll!” Bucky says, like the perfect golden retriever boyfriend that he is.

“Did you just get here?” You ask, your heart still pounding.

“Yeah, why?” he asks curiously, absentmindedly grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl off the kitchen counter and taking a bite.

“Um, yeah me too. It’s just-”

“Just… what?” He takes another bite.

“It’s just that... my door was open when I got here?”

“What?” Bucky’s face instantly changes, his eyes wide and anxious, “Go wait in the hallway until I look around.”

“I already did that-”

“Please?” He pleads as he throws out his barely eaten apple, already coaxing you towards the door.

Crossing your arms, you go and wait in the hallway while he looks around. After a few minutes he brings you back in.

“Everything looks to be fine, but I’m going to stay the night just in case.” You breathe a sigh of relief at Bucky’s words.

“Maybe maintenance came in and forgot to lock back up. I was having all those issues with my heater a few months ago,” You try justifying.

“Yeah maybe,” he says, with a small shrug of his shoulders.

About a week later is when the phone calls started.

Initially it was just 1 or 2 a day from a restricted number that you never picked up, assuming it was some kind of solicitation about your car’s extended warranty. But no voicemail was ever left.

As a few weeks went by though, it started to feel like borderline harassment. The number of phone calls jumped to an average of twenty times a day.

Sitting at your work desk your phone continued to violently vibrate, the words Unknown Caller lit up on the screen. You ran your hands through your hair, letting them linger on your scalp, starting to feel stressed every time your phone rang.

"Hey babes!" Hailee, your coworker/bff storms unannounced into your office, "You ready to grab some lu- oh my god. Are they calling you right now?" Obviously aware of the situation, she scurries around your desk in her too high heels and answers your phone. Clearing her throat, "Hi, thank you for calling Tammy's Whorehouse where we suck and fuck. How can I help you?" She taps an inpatient finger on her hip, waiting for a response and then the line goes dead.

Your hands fall down into your lap with an exacerbated breath, "No one ever answers."

"Have you tried tracking the number?" She puts the phone down and sits on top of your desk.

"I've tried calling my cell service, they can't do anything about it. If it keeps up, I just might change my number." You shake your head, "This is going to sound so dumb, but it has me so distracted. Apparently, I've been forgetting to charge my phone at night too? I swear I put it on the charger but then it dies in the night and that's why I've been late to work a few times."

Hailee tilts her head to the side, giving a sympathetic frown. "Sorry, girl. Hey!" She tries perking up, "Why don't we go get lunch and iced coffees? My treat?!" Her bright smile and shimmying shoulders get you to crack a smile. Jumping off your desk she claps her hands, "Yay!"

Suddenly there's a knock at your office door. Both of you stop the mini-iced coffee celebration and snap your attention to the nervous, uniformed teenager standing in the doorway.

"Delivery." he says shyly, looking between the two of you.

Hailee raises an eyebrow and smirks, looking you up and down, "Well, it wasn't delivered to my office."

You roll your eyes as you get up, smoothing your skirt down. Walking up to the boy, he quickly hands you a rather large bouquet of flowers. The intoxicating floral aroma hits you almost immediately, you cannot help but be astounded by the arrangement. Each individual flower is rather large, some darker than others; Ombres of red and burgundy into black.

"They're beautiful," You admire, inhaling deeply. "I don't think I've ever seen these before. Do you know what kind of flowers they are?" You ask the teen curiously.

"Black dahlia's," he recalled, and your stomach felt like it dropped with the mention of the name. "I don't think we've ever gotten a request for those at my family's shop before. That's the only reason I remember," he shrugged.

"Does Bucky have a brother? Because like, are you kidding me right now?" You glanced at Hailee who was making an over-the-top pouty face.

Asking the teen if he had CashApp to tip him, you quickly ushered him off. Searching through the flowers to see if there was a card or any indication that they were in fact from Bucky, but there wasn't.

That night, Bucky came over for dinner. He brought take out from a local Greek place that he really liked, but you were distracted. Just pushing the food around on your plate.

"You okay, doll?" His forehead puckered slightly in question.

"Yeah, um," You shake your head to try and focus, "Hey, thanks for the flowers today. That was super sweet and unexpected," considering you've been kinda stressed.

"Flowers? What flowers?" Bucky's posture stiffens.

"I got flowers delivered to me at work today, I just assumed it... was from you? Maybe it was a mistake then." There were suddenly mixed emotions being stirred around in a frenzy. If Bucky wasn't the one who sent the flowers, then who did? You tried saying they were dropped in your office by accident, but it just didn't feel right. It felt intentional.

"Well, honey, I don't know who it was, but it wasn't me." Bucky stands up from the kitchen table, grabbing his dinner plate. "Are you done?" He asks gesturing to your plate. You nod and he takes it as well, "But it's something I should do, and I'll be more conscious of it. I'm sorry,"

"No, Buck I wasn't-"

His lips press to the top of your head, "No, you're right. If anyone should be doing it, it should be me. Let me take the garbage out for you and we'll have the night to ourselves, yeah? Anything you want."

"Anything?" You repeat, in singsong with a grin.

He shakes his head, scraping the scraps from the plates into the garbage returning the grin, "I like where this is going," Tying off the bag, he holds up two fingers, "give me two minutes," he opens the door to the apartment and starts jogging down the hallway, "two minutes!!" you hear him call out.

The door to the apartment doesn't even fully shut before you hear the familiar buzz coming from your bag. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you angrily push away from the table and stomp over to the counter, dumping out your purse just to see Unknown Caller lit up on your phone.

You hit the green button so hard it doesn't register, so you do it again until it answers, "Hello?! What the FUCK do you want?!" No answer. But this time, you can hear someone breathing heavily. "You need some help. Seriously, leave me the fuck alone!" Hanging up, you slam the phone down onto the counter.

"Doll?" Bucky asks from the doorway, he sighs, "Was it that number bothering you again?"

"Yes!" You answer, flustered. "The next step is to just- change my number! I don't know what else to do."

Bucky steps in, closing in the door behind him with the back of his boot. His lips are pressed in tight line, "C'mere, darlin'," he holds his arms wide open, eyes soft. Dragging your feet, you meet him halfway and lay your head on his chest, "It's gonna be okay," he coos in your ear. "It's just some asshole with nothing better to do. They'll get bored soon enough. Worst case, we'll change your number. We can even go down to the store tomorrow and get you a new phone?" Bucky offers, trying to be optimistic as he caresses your arms up and down.

"I was just really hoping it wouldn't get to that point." You admit, pulling away from his chest just enough to look up at him.

"We'll do what we have to." Bucky smiles, cupping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger before pressing his lips to yours.

Letting your lips linger a moment as your eyes close, you inhale deeply, taking in the cypress scented soap still lingering on his skin from a shower he took earlier. It's your favorite. Hence why you keep buying it every time he runs out. Bucky's lips separate yours, and when just the tips of your tongues connect, a barely audible whimper escapes your mouth.

Like a gun starting a marathon, it was all Bucky needed to hear. Reaching down and gripping behind your thighs, he hoists you up. With a delighted squeak, you wrap your legs around his torso, laughing but keeping your lips on his as your hands run through his short hair. Using one hand flat against your lower back to keep you pressed into his chest, Bucky's other hand firmly grasped your ass. His fingers purposefully grazing the inseam of your jeans between your legs as he walked towards the bedroom.

Bucky sits on the edge of the bed, keeping you both upright. You break the mashing of tongues to re-adjust your position and straddle him. Leaning in, you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, letting your teeth graze just a tiny bit before letting go. Bucky exhales a drawn out, low groan before licking his lips. The look in his eyes is absolutely carnal as he tugs your shirt over your head and throws it across the room. Not even bothering with your bra, he just pulls the black lace cups down beneath your breasts, propping them up in exposure as he dips down to flick his tongue across your nipple.

Initially it makes you shudder, but as he continues to suck, nibble, lick, repeat, you find reprieve in grinding your hips down into the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Bucky lets out a stifled groan before switching his mouth to your other nipple. You smirk to yourself; you just love to tease this man. Although, if we're being honest, this isn't so easy on you right now either.

Roughly gripping both sides of his face, you bring his lips back to yours. You’re starting to feel needy for more of his touch. Becoming desperate to relieve this fuel lit fire. Bucky’s hands were firmly placed on each of your ass cheeks, assisting your already rolling hips forward and back. He snakes one hand between your bodies, slipping it down the front of your pants, his finger sliding once between your slit. You both moan loudly in unison into the kiss.

"Fuuuck..." Bucky breathed, tilting his head back just slightly that your lips pull apart. "You're already so fucking wet for me," his lascivious eyes lock onto yours, his breathing already becoming rather ragged.

Hearing his debauched voice, knowing just that single glide of his finger has him aching so badly, has ignited a new spark in you. "It's all yours, baby," you purred. Biting the bottom corner of your lip, you slowly get off his lap. Hooking each of your pointer fingers into the front pockets of Bucky's jeans, you encourage him to stand up as you drop to your knees before him.

As he's fumbling with the button and zipper, you stare up at him with tantalizing eyes, your hands firmly grazing along his muscular thighs. Once he's able to get it open, you help start to shimmy down his jeans and boxer briefs passed his hips until they pool on the floor. Bucky's thick, long cock springs up at almost eye level in enthusiasm, instantly making your mouth water. Sticking your tongue out as far as you possibly can, you lock eyes with Bucky and press the tip to your tongue, dragging it to a flick.

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, his body quivered at the first contact. You smile as you taste the initial saltiness on your tongue, licking your lips before hollowing out your cheeks and taking him into your mouth. Bucky exhales deeply, his head starting to tilt back but he stops, making sure he maintains eye contact with you. You draw back, pressing your tongue upward firmly, go forward, and go back again. After a moment, a rhythm gets going, you now move your tongue side to side as you bob front to back, sucking harder.

"That's it," Bucky coaxes, "That's my good fucking girl," a small whimper escapes your throat at his words of praise. You clamp your legs together a little tighter as it's getting harder to ignore the incessant throbbing and growing wet spot between your legs.

The next thing you know, his hands are in your hair, gathering it up into a makeshift ponytail. Grasping his shaft with your hand steadily, you use that to guide your mouth, twisting and gliding easily. You know it's his weakness. Bucky's hips start to buck up into your mouth as he pulls your head down further onto his throbbing cock. Through now teary eyes you’re determined to watch as his face starts to contort with pleasure, his moans music to your ears just as your gagging is to him.

"You look...Ahh...so...fucking...pretty," Each word comes out with a drive of his hips into your mouth. In the dim lighting of the room, completely blissed out on pleasure, he looks like a fucking god. And he's mine. The thought alone is enough to make you explode. "Ugh!" Bucky growls, "I can't take it anymore! C'mere!" With a small 'pop', he pulls out and grabs underneath your arms and tosses you onto the bed.

Giggling, you wipe the excess saliva off your swollen, red lips as you push back further onto the bed. Bucky pulls your jeans and panties down and off in one swift motion before kneeling onto the bed. His eyes are glazed over, solely focused on between your legs. He crawls upward, and it's purely feline as he dips down, his mouth creating a seal and sucking once.

The combination of a loud moan and gasp get ripped straight from your lungs as you practically convulsed off the bed from being so aroused. Bucky quickly and securely locks your thighs in place to keep them open and from you going anywhere. He grinned, watching every single movement.

"Eyes on me, princess," he ordered. Pressing down on your lips, you nodded in anticipation. Leaning in, Bucky skimmed his lips on your very inner thigh, placing a feather light kiss that made your entire abdomen tense.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

"Fuck," Bucky sits back up on his knees, taking his phone out of the pocket of his jeans that was still around his ankles. "Hello?" You stare up at him in complete disbelief, "What, now?" He looks down at you on the bed, giving a sympathetic look and mouths 'sorry'. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he drags a hand down his face. "Yeah... yeah. No- I understand... Okay. Yep. I'll be there. Bye." He hangs up the phone.

"Don't say it," you bite out, crossing your arms over your chest and closing your legs.

Bucky takes a deep breath, "I have to go back, a mission came up."

"Annnd, you said it," you look up at the ceiling, refusing to keep that eye contact that you were so adamant on not even a minute ago.

"It sounded pretty important, Doll." Bucky is off the bed, pulling up his pants and re-adjusting himself in them.

"It always is," you mutter under your breath. Sighing, you just accepted the fact that your night is completely ruined. "So, what you're telling me is, that I'm getting cock blocked by The Avengers?"

Bucky sits on the bed, placing a delicate hand on your cheek, "I'm really sorry. I'll make this up to you tenfold, promise." He kisses you softly, "I have to go. I'll contact you as soon as I can. I love you," He offers a small smile.

You sigh, knowing you can never let him leave on bad terms, "I love you too, Buck." Sitting up you give him a hug and a few extra kisses that probably made him late.

Still sitting in bed after Bucky had gone, you felt irrationally irritated by how he left. Tapping on your thighs, a headache was already brewing from the pent-up sexual tension that you were unable to get out. That's when you suddenly remembered a little something on your phone that might just help you out in this situation. There was this one particular time you and Bucky decided to record yourselves having sex, and you've never went back and watched it. If there was ever a time to go back and do so...

Excitedly, you go over to the dresser. You pull open your underwear drawer and dig through all the way to the back, where you stash your favorite vibrator. You click the silicone button a few times to make sure it's charged, and all the intensity settings worked before laughing menacingly to yourself and closing the drawer. Tossing the toy onto the bed, you walk out to the kitchen.

Your phone was where you had left it earlier, still slammed face down on the counter. Sashaying over, you notice that there's an applecore sitting next to it. This is odd, because you didn't have one and Bucky is normally very meticulous when it comes to cleaning and picking up after himself. Going to throw it out, you realize there is no garbage bag in the trash can and suddenly it makes sense. Bucky was in a rush to leave; he probably didn't have the time to replace the bag. So, you do it yourself, and throw out the eaten fruit.

Getting back to your room with your phone, you notice that your underwear drawer is open. Pursing your lips and narrowing your eyes, you look from the bed, to the dresser, back to the bed. I could have sworn I closed that. Then again, maybe it's just the headache coming on. You close the dresser drawer, and all too eagerly jump under the covers.

The ambiance for a little 'self-love' right now is almost too perfect. Your bedroom is dimly lit with only a mood lamp and the fog covered streetlamps from down below your apartment. The light patter of rain hit against your bedroom window and fire escape underneath it, while some light thunder rolled some distance away.

Scrolling through your phone, it wasn't hard to find exactly what you were looking for. Pressing 'play', you're watching a side view of you taking Bucky from the back. Your mouth drops open slightly, seeing it from a third person view. Bucky has his Vibranium hand on the side of your face, pushing you down further into the mattress and he is just relentless. And the sounds, God the sounds. You grab the vibrator, turning it on and quickly placing it onto your already sensitive and swollen clit and start rubbing it and soft circles.

"Look at how good you take it,"

"Oh, God!"

"Are you gonna come for me?"

"Mhm,"

"I can't hear you, princess,"

"Can I come Bucky? Please, please let me..."

"Of course, my good girl can come. Here... lean down more...open those legs wider...touch yourself...yeah...fuck, yeah...just like that baby,"

The bed is practically shattering underneath you as Bucky, who isn't even there, coaxes you into having an orgasm with yourself. You rub the vibrator more intensely, knowing you’re about to come hard from the pent-up tension this evening. The lights surge briefly in the apartment from the passing storm, just as your head presses down further against the pillows and the ripples of pleasure aggressively take over your body.

The lights go out momentarily, and that's when you see the silhouette of a tall, dark hooded figure standing on your fire escape looking into your window.

The lights come back on a second later and you’re panting. Both from the release and from what you saw. The cognizance hits you that you just came in front of a total stranger. Oh, and maybe that I might have a stalker.

The cops came, looked around, made you feel like an idiot, took a report, and left. Not feeling comfortable staying in the apartment for the night, you called Hailee, who offered up her spare bedroom.

Sitting across from you with her legs crossed on the couch, her hair in a bonnet, a glass of wine, and blue raspberry vape, she leaned in, listening intently to the details leading up to this moment.

“Soo… you know I’m gonna ask,” she starts.

You sigh, “I don’t know when I’m going to tell Bucky. I always feel so guilty when he’s away and something happens.”

Hailee’s face scrunches as she waves her hand in dismissal, “No, no not that,” You raise an eyebrow at her in confusion. “Can I see it?” She lowers her voice, but it’s oozing with hope.

“Bitch,” both your eyebrows raise in aghast, realizing what she’s actually asking.

“What?! Come onnnn,” She whines, pressing her hands together in plead and pouts her lip.

“Oh my god, Hailee! No! Just… no.”

Rolling her eyes she composes herself again, “Okay, so like, you ever just… look at a man, and you just know?” Her hands wave around as she’s trying to explain, “Like, that man can fuck? I feel like that’s Bucky. And so…” Hailee looks so determined right now, “s-shame on you!” She points directly at you, this is comical, “for not sharing the video evidence! Because now I’m convinced you have a boring, vanilla sex life!”

Leaning back against the kitchen counter sipping your glass of water, you hear yourself coming down from the highs of ecstasy through your phone. Hailee’s wide eyes are glued, mouth dropped open, speechless, for once. The sound finally cuts off.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother because-”

You quickly snatch the phone out of her hand, “Okay, you got what you wanted. Can we be serious now?!”

“Yeah,” Hailee shakes her head, “yeah, of course…” she takes a deep breath, “I’m just saying, you seriously have some career options if your current job doesn’t work out though.”

“Hailee!!”

“Okay! I’m sorry!” Her hands go up in a surrender, “but you put in a police report, and I mean, of course you can stay here. What else are you going to do?”

*Ding*

“Hang on, I just got a text.”

“Who the fuck would be texting you this late?” Hailee asks, getting off the couch to read the text with you over your shoulder.

Together you read the message:

Part 2

If you enjoyed this, please check out my masterlist

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr

[gothhabiba]

@ anon

I think it might be actually dangerous to publish your ask, but I'm sure from my response people will be able to tell what it's about anyway.

You're full of actual, absolute shit if you're pretending not to know by now that verification processes to ensure the legitimacy of Ghazzawin's fundraisers have been undertaken, and that details about what these processes entail have been shared by several people. Several people, some of them currently in Gaza, put themselves through countless hours of work video-calling people, judging their knowledge of dialectical Arabic, seeing their faces and their children's faces and their living conditions, seeing IDs and bank information, asking invasive, personal questions that they didn't want to be asking & that the people responding probably didn't want to be answering, and physically visiting people in Gaza and video-recording their interactions, just so that people like you could be sure that these fundraisers were legitimate. If you're ignoring all of the blood & tears that went into that process just so you can hand-wring about scams, no one needs to be concerned with convincing you of the legitimacy of anything, because you were never going to donate to these people anyway. You are just looking for any plausible-sounding excuse not to do what you already didn't want to do.

If, by some miracle, you actually didn't know about the verified fundraiser spreadsheet (which is frankly still blameable bc, where on earth have you been?), then there it is. The post of mine that you're referring to never even mentioned responding to asks; using this spreadsheet is an absolutely valid, reasonable way of donating directly to families.

Now let me treat some of your statements as though they were questions (which, they were not).

How do people in Gaza have internet access?

Internet infrastructure in Gaza is very robust (e.g. in what cables are made of, how deep they're buried, amounts of redundancy in the system, &c.) because they have been getting bombed by Israel all the fucking time for decades, so they expect this infrastructure to be put through a lot. There have still--if you've been following the situation at all--been several outages caused by damage that Ghazzawin have needed to repair. Though I do have to say that I find it odd that you doubt Ghazzawin have internet access, but also say that you buy eSims...?

A lot of people right now are indeed connected via eSim, which to my understanding only need to connect to wifi once, right when they're activated. People put themselves at risk to connect to eSims because they need to get a good wifi signal, which usually means walking for several miles trying to find high ground. One of my contacts once urgently called me (this is the only time he hadn't just texted) because he had been told his friend had found a signal and so they needed an eSim right then, before they went back to their tent.

I've been trying for some time to connect another of my contacts in Gaza to an eSim, but we're not having success. At Crips for eSims for Gaza they / we (I'm on the server getting advice and helping out but I'm not using their funding; I'm using what people on tumblr have given me to purchase eSims with) keep a constantly updated sheet of which eSim providers use which networks and which networks work in which areas--because the situation is constantly changing. Because my contact doesn't have an eSim on a personal phone, she has to go to a central location to be allotted three hours of internet access from someone who has managed to get connected. Lots of people, on their fundraising posts and pages, specify exactly how they've gotten internet access, how difficult it's been for them to get it, and how stressful it is to be relying on this tenuous connection, spending hours away from their families (at high risk of being shot at by IOF soldiers the whole time), just to message people for hours straight and then go home again.

2. How do people in Gaza have tumblr accounts?

This is a stupid question. Anyone with an email address who is capable of picking a username and password can make a tumblr account. I have personally helped several of my contacts in Gaza with the process.

3. How do people in Gaza know to come into people's tumblr accounts?

This is also a stupid question. I don't really see how you could ask this question if you saw Palestinians as, like, real humans beings. You understand that people talk to each other, yes? Like with words? As soon as a few people had success fundraising to evacuate Gaza on tumblr (nearly a year ago... this news has had a lot of time to spread), obviously they told other people about it.

One of the ways that Israel conducts its genocidal war is through the destructiveness of frustration and boredom. It's a strange situation because everything is extremely dire, urgent, terrifying, and dirty, but there's also seldom anything to do. People are singing, telling stories, going to the beach, inventing games and contests, to entertain children, but also to entertain themselves. And this is the situation--with a bunch of desperate, bored people packed into a tiny piece of land--this is the situation that you think it's impossible for people to talk to each other in? Come on.

If you want to donate to Anera and World Food Kitchen and buy eSims, that's fantastic. Please do that. But if you are as ignorant of the particulars of what this situation is like as your ask makes you appear, then I hope you refrain from speaking on what the situation is like.

I've been nattering on for a long time so here's my call to action:

Decide what you're capable of giving right now, or the next time you get paid

Scroll down on the vetted fundraiser spreadsheet and find someone very low on funds, or with injured children who urgently need treatment or evacuation, and give that money.

AND / OR give it to the PCRF or the IRW

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

More of my diabetic Steve verse!

Steve, who doesn’t realize that Eddie is super famous and robin who could literally not care any less.

Steve and Eddie exchange numbers and text all of the time. It takes a week for Eddie to crack and send this message:

Eddie: Please for the love of god let me take you on a date I need to wine and dine you so hard I think I might pass out

Steve obviously says yes.

Eddie takes them to a small diner because he doesn’t want to risk being seen by crazy fans who somehow always find out where he is. If Eddie is being honest, he blames twitter.

Eddie gets there to find Steve already sitting at a booth, fiddling with something on his phone. His glasses are sliding down his nose again and he is wearing a Wham! graphic t-shirt and light wash jeans. He stands up once he notices Eddie and flashes a huge grin, which causes Eddie to also smile.

They both sit down on their respective sides of the table and get comfortable, making small talk. It takes a bit, but Eddie notices that Steve has the menu pulled up on his phone and laughs.

“Doing some homework?”

Steve looks confused for a second before glancing down.

“Oh yeah! I always make sure to look at it beforehand whenever I go out to make sure that I have options depending on my blood sugar level.”

“What’s your… number, is that the correct term, now?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yes! And let me check.” Steve pulls out a cute green pouch and takes out a bunch of supplies. “I just changed my CGM—“ At Eddie’s confused look, he says, “My glucose monitor. It’s not completely synced yet so I can’t rely on my pod to tell me what level I’m actually at.”

After he says that, Steve cleans his finger with an alcohol wipe, lets it dry, and then pricks his finger. He squeezes the pad of his ring finger and blood pools to the surface.

“Yikes. I’m gonna have to give myself a correction or two.”

Steve cleans up the space but leaves his pouch out, and then wraps a sparkly bandaid on his finger.

“What’s a correction?”

Eddie feels dumb. He wishes he knew more about diabetes and actually researched it before showing up to the diner with no prior knowledge.

“I just give myself a little extra insulin to make my blood sugar go down. I’m flirting with 250 right now and I really want a burger.”

—

The date passes swimmingly and the two men find themselves sitting in the same booth at the same diner, but on the same side. Their hands are intertwined and Steve wrapped up half of his meal to take home.

“I made this for you!” Steve says suddenly. He grabs a stack of stapled papers and hands them to Eddie. “I made you a ‘diabetes guide!’ Since I plan on our relationship being permanent, it would give me peace of mind if you knew what to do in case of an emergency.”

Steve begins thumbing through the packet and explaining everything, but Eddie can hardly focus.

Not with Steve clutching his hand or with him wanting their relationship to become “permanent.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face. “I understand if this is a dealbreaker or whatever, but I just like you so much and I want to be your boyfriend as of two weeks ago.”

Eddie just blinks. Then he smiles. “We only met a week ago, Stevie.”

Steve blushes, tucks some hair behind his ear. “I know that. I just had a feeling that I would meet the one.”

“Yeah?” A pause. “Can I kiss you?”

Steve releases a breath. Puts his hand on Eddie’s cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask. I hope you don’t mind the taste of hamburger.”

Eddie laughs before lunging forward.

—

As they head back to Steve’s apartment hand in hand, Eddie tells him about his more than ordinary job. Explains what might happen when people see them together.

Steve just laughs and says, “I’ve fought literal monsters from hell, I can handle anything.”

Eddie falls more in love than he knew possible.

[princessbrunette]

when sarah and john b had decided they wanted to recruit you to join their relationship, there were a few subtle steps they had planned to take.

𐙚₊˚⊹♡

they saw your potential. they knew perhaps you weren’t the most overtly sexual in nature, but they also knew they could change that. sex was like cake, you could never just eat one spoonful of it. all they had to do, was pique your interest — not just in sex, but in sex with them specifically.

baby steps. you ask sarah to send her the videos she took of you guys from the party the night before, and she ‘accidentally’ includes a video of her and john b fucking she’d taken on her phone the same day. of course she acted bashful, apologising profusely for the mistake and acting incredibly grateful when you’d told her there was no problem and that you’d delete it.

‘yk i wouldn’t even really care if you watched it tbh. i trust you. its only me and john b anyway… 🤷🏼‍♀️💕’

— she’d text you after a moments passed. curiosity of course got the better of you, a shaky, clammy finger pressing the play button as you nervously bite your nail, glancing at the door and turning the volume way down as precaution as if someone were to catch you. the focus seemed to be on sarah, grinding her hips to ride the brunette boy, soft tits bouncing as he lazily smacks her ass and encourages her to keep riding. she seemed to be putting in the work, john b merely used as a vessel for pleasure, a dildo with a voice box— and something about that had you shamefully heating up. sure, your knowledge on sex was fairly limited — but what you did know through movies and tv shows was that guys were usually too prideful to let the girl do the work, yet therefore caring less for her pleasure. the two of them seemed… open. different.

the text of apparent permission sarah had sent you only made you feel the slightest bit less guilty when you snuck your hand down the waistband of your panties and humped clumsily at your palm as you hit replay.

the blonde cameron had facetimed you suddenly and out of the blue seven minutes later. you yanked your hand out your pants like there’d be a way for her to see you before you’d accepted the call and you swallow thickly, brain too frazzled to think before hitting the green button. she was smiling, laying on her bed in that white tank top that hugged her tits, the same tits from the video and accentuated her golden, barbie tan. you try and be normal about it. she’s just your friend after all.

“hey, what are you doing right now?”

you blink at her, the way she’s smiling at you — before checking yourself out in the small box in the corner. you look all heated and askew, chest still rising and falling with heavy breaths. fuck.

you told her you were watching a movie and then excused yourself not even two minutes later, overcome with embarrassment and the feeling of being caught. sarah rolls over once the call ends, smirking to john b who was reclined on her bed with a hand behind his head, scrolling through his own phone.

“she was totally getting herself off.” she purs matter-of-factly. the brunette boys eyes light up a little as he glances over, brows shifting upwards.

“yeah? how’d you know?”

“she had it written all over her face.”

the two of them got greedy, with the whole introducing you to the idea of being chronically horny thing. without even really speaking about it, they figured the more they normalised this kind of behaviour in the group dynamic, the more likely you were to feel comfortable enough to let them hit. jj maybank was sexual in nature to the knowledge of anyone who had the pleasure of having a conversation with him longer than five minutes. he was sure to make it easy and perhaps bridge the gap, they just needed their in.

by that point, you’d started to catch on anyway.

the four of you sit in a small uneven circle on the floor of the chateau, drinking on a friday night. at first you’re a little confused — you were so sure sarah had been hinting at something with you, herself and john b for a while now — but as you sat beside jj on the floor, his arm rested casually behind you, rubbing casual circles on your waist you perhaps started to question whether or not you’d made that up, and really they were just trying to be friendly so they could set you up with their friend.

as soon as the words ‘truth or dare’ leave john b’s mouth with a knowing, yet trusting and warm grin — you knew it was bound to take a turn. with this group, it always did. everything was about sex, whether you were doing it or talking about it or pretending to do it infront of eachother, it was some kind of secret obsession that you could feel yourself feeding into without knowing. a lamb being brought in to be sacrificed, a group of secretly perverted individuals itching to get your sweet, cranberry blood on their hands.

sarah speaks your name when you foolishly pick dare, worried if you had picked truth they’d make you recount all the things you’d hadn’t done. she leans across the circle to you on her hands and knees so her face is right in front of yours, breath in your face, ass in john b’s.

“i want you… to show me how you’d ride a dick.”

“what?”

she pushes back, reaching behind her on the couch and fetching the throw pillow, placing it in the centre of the circle with a mischievous grin. the pillow it long, firm and rectangular — the comfiest of its kind to nap on during the day whilst the group discuss whatever mishap they were planning on getting into that week.

“aw now we’re talkin’” jj gets comfortable, sitting back a little with a jokey grin. nothing about their tone was out of the ordinary, which what made you feel so comfortable.

“i don’t understand?” you smile, tilting your head like a lost puppy which only made you appear more delicious as their prey.

“straddle the pillow… and show us what you’d do if you were to ride an actual, real dick.” sarah explains kindly, even pulling your hand so you would shuffle forward on your knees to the centre of the small circle.

“look, we know you haven’t done that before— no shame in it,” john b shrugs one shoulder understandingly with an air of casualness which calmed you. “but a dares a dare and hey, maybe you could learn something right now.”

“i been told i’mma pretty good teacher too, so—” jj starts casually in his amused drawl, but is cut short pretty quickly by the sarah snapping her head towards him, her tone more curt and snappy.

“jj.” she scolds quickly and he shuts up, but as quickly as she changed her tone, she was back to smiling back at you encouragingly. she didn’t want jj to take it too far with the pervy jokes and send you running. their plan was perfectly crafted, and they didn’t need him ruining it. john b’s eyes linger on the blonde. nothing malicious about it, perhaps a warning though — because jj presses his lips together and moves his glance back to you with a thick swallow.

all in this time, you had decided to take another long swig of your drink before straddling the pillow. the group cheer, the fun and jokey atmosphere back in full swing as you cover your face, giggling into your hands.

your skirt stretches over your upper thighs at the position, and you shuffle — ensuring you’re sat comfortable on the throw cushion. perhaps the alcohol had lowered your guard, because without much thought — you wince, the material catching over your clit. you were sensitive, assumably from ovulation and as you try to get into a comfortable position, your face falls, realising you may be too sensitive to partake.

“uhm,” you clear your throat as the playful jeering dies down.

“go ahead. fulfil your dare.” sarah chuckles, leaning back against the couch behind her.

“i can’t.” you whisper, smile slipping off your face. the couples hearts drop a few millimetres in their chest, thinking perhaps they’d made you uncomfortable and soiled the whole thing. the blonde girls eyebrows furrow, leaning forward and scooching to sit directly infront of you.

“why? are you okay? i’m— i’m sorry—”

“no i’m okay,” you let out an airy laugh that relieves everyone. “maybe i’m just drunk but i’m a little sensitive… don’t think i can sit n’hump this pillow without…” you trail off, your shame sending heat to your cheeks and behind your ears. john b raises his eyebrows slowly in expectation.

“without…?”

you clench your thighs around the pillow, mortified, looking down at it before back up at him with puppy dog eyes and your teeth tucked over your bottom lip all sheepish. made him wanna finger you until you cried.

luckily, sarah’s face lights up with slow realisation, mouth forming an ‘o’ and eyes widening.

“without cumming?” she cooes before swivelling around to look at both boys, laughing in adoration. “aww, you’re sensitive! i didn’t even… know that was a thing!” she beams, and the boys follow, teeth glinting in the low light like hungry hyenas in a cave.

you loosen up a little, shoulders visibly relaxing and you giggle. “yeah… s’just quite a… firm pillow. pressing me in all types of places.” you shrug, girlishly.

“are you seeeeeeriously tellin’ me, that you can’t move back and forth just a little?” jj chuckles, dumbfounded from behind you and you peer shyly over your shoulder with a humble shrug. you wasn’t sure if they were to be making fun of you, but for some odd reason — based off vibes alone, your sensitivity felt like something to be proud of amongst the group. jj licks his lips.

when you turn back, sarah’s in your face again, her warm hands on your knees. she seems comfortable, so you relax into her touch. you notice john b watching the interaction before locking eyes with you and sipping out his beer bottle.

“okay well, a dares a dare, but if you really need someone to help you out…” she giggles, hands sliding up to your hips before she begins to forcefully tug you back and forth — leaving you no choice but to let her make you hump this pillow infront of everyone.

your hands fly to her shoulders to stabilise yourself, sucking in a shaky and unsure gasp as the seams in the fabric repeatedly catch over your clit through your thin panties. the music playing out the speaker seems to get louder, or maybe the blood is just pumping in your ears as the boys let out little encouraging cheers as they chuckle and continue to drink.

sarah tilts her head, hot breath on your jaw as she lowers her voice to something quiet and seductive for just you to hear, her hands now grabbing handfuls of your ass to pull you along. “there you go, keep riding it. just like me in that video, right?” she croons, and your brows furrow — unable to stop the pornographic moan from leaving you.

embarrassed at the delighted reactions, you hide your face in sarah’s neck, hot and disorientated from the pleasure, hearing her amused chuckle close up. “its just us, nothing at all to be embarrassed about.” she shrugs against you. “can’t run from the dare, sweetie. jj, you wanna come up behind her and give her a hand?” she asks, and before you can lift your head — her hands have slid up your top, squeezing at your tits.

your hips aren’t left alone for long though, as jj straddles the long pillow right behind you and grips your hips, tugging them back and forth with a boyish roughness that had the fabric scraping against you in a new way. you whimper uncontrollably, feeling the blondes stiff crotch thumping against your backside each time he yanked you back.

“yeah-he-heahh, that’s the stuff. don’t tell me i never do anythin’ for ya babydoll. teachin’ you the valuable lesson of gettin’ off right now.” he drawls in your ear, his body heat making your back arch.

amidst this, john b carries the same cool and collected energy. he leans against the couch as he keeps his eyes on yours, taking another sip of his beer before reaching out and taking your hand in his to gently soothe over your knuckles when you announce in a panic that they were going to make you cum.

“thaaaats it,” he hums, voice bassy and delicious enough to make you hold onto every word, thighs clenching painfully. “riiiiide it out.”

something about his nonchalance made you believe it was perhaps his idea, and not sarah’s like you previously believed.

[cheriladycl01]

Random Girl - Lando Norris x Actress! Reader

Plot: Y/N being spotted in the most random places you could think off and its gets to the point where people joke that they wouldn't be shocked if she posted a story from the ISS.

Lando knew his girlfriend was a bit ditzy, but that was the whole appeal that she came with. However, what he didn't expect was when he was at race weekends by himself that she couldn't attend, he'd get notifications from gossip pages, new articles and pap pages showing his girlfriend to be spotted in the most random places possible.

It first started when they had only been dating for a few months, they'd met in the McLaren paddock where she'd been invited to a GP and brought her motorsport loving father along with her. They'd hit it off immediately. Lando was shy, having this well known actress talking to him like she'd known him all his life and kind of fumbled at the opportunity to ask her out to dinner after the race.

Of course, you had swooped in asking him yourself.

After those few dates, you both became busy. Crazily enough he still didn't know much about you. Obviously he knew enough, like your age and that you were from England and all of those other weird Wiki facts that people added to your profile after you'd stated them in interviews.

So when he saw a news article that was a picture of you, in what he deemed to be loungewear on a countryside town in the UK helping your dad out mucking the stables he couldn't help but texting and asking where you were.

When you'd replied at home, it made more sense but he was shocked as you seemed like the definition of a London city girl.

And of course you were a London City girl, but that didn't stop you going back home, to your routes and getting your hands a little dirty.

After this, you were then cast in the GranTurismo movie as Audrey the girlfriend of Jann Mardenborough. You made friends with Emelia Hartford, Archie Madekwe, Joshua Stradowski, Darren Barnet and Sang Heon Lee. Of course you were already familiar with Orlando Bloom and David Harbour having acted with them before.

It was funny however, how it wasn't public knowledge that you and Lando were an item yet and you were in a movie to do with racing. You both found it bazar, but it also wasn't the usual type of movie you were in. So when fans watched and then realized who you were rumored to be dating it all made sense.

The next was he was in his drivers room with his team mate Oscar, they were both aimlessly scrolling through TikTok waiting for their typical Thursday media duties when all of a sudden Oscar practically spat his water out, choking on it.

"Mate that's disgusting" Lando complains flicking the spitty water off his wrist.

"Tell me why your girlfriend is on my TikTok for you page weightlifting in the middle of London!" he asks rewinding the video just to make sure he wasn't seeing things and that it was you.

Without a doubt, it was you. Even with sunglasses and a Mclaren cap covering your face from the general public, he knew it was you. Not only could he tell it was you because he'd seen you so many times in the paddock and hanging out with his own girlfriend Lily that he'd introduced you to and you'd both become fast friends. But the noticeable thing was the massive keychain you were holding.

You were known for loosing stuff, so one Christmas the grid decided to all get you something to attach to your house and car keys. So whenever you left the house you didn't loose them. There was a pink fluffy ball attached that Max had got you, your Mclaren Car Key was showing, the Pirelli wheel Lewis had got you. The picture of you and Lando, Lando had got for you, there was an Yves St Laurent charm from Lewis and much more but it was so specific that Oscar knew it was you.

"What do you mean my girlfriend is weightlifting on your tiktok" he asks crawling onto the sofa from the ground that he was sat on, budging up closer to Oscar and looking over his shoulder to where he phone was playing the small segment.

There you were, placing your keys into your bag before hitching it high up on your arm and lifting the weight. It was heavy and from the rest of the video not many other people had managed to do it. However you there, in your high heels and short skirt you lifted it up no problem. He knew it was in your range as you often would work out with him, and sometimes you had a better stamina than he did. That was because of some of the movies you'd had to train for in the past, making you have a really serious work out regime.

The crowd applauded you before you did a kind curtsy taking the drink from the guy who was recording the video. As you lifted your glasses up taking a drink, people stared to recognize you and started to ask for pictures and autographs. The video cut out to the next lifter before he could see what occurred from the fans that were around you.

"Babe what the hell is this on Oscar's titkok of you weightlifting for free drinks from randoms in the street! Are you okay did you get mobbed? The video cut out before we could see anything. My god its so dangerous you shouldn't be out alone!" he scolds before even saying hi to you.

"Hello to you to Lando" he laugh and he sighs.

"You shouldn't do stuff like that baby, I worry!" he explains and you just giggle.

"I was fine Lan, I had security waiting for me behind the camera and there wasn't too many people! I was fine and got home all safe!" you smile into the phone rolling your eyes at your mum who was awing at how cute he was being. After a while he hung up needing to go for media duties.

Then during your first summer break together, you, Lily, Oscar and Lando all wanted to go on holiday together. So you all suggested somewhere you wanted to go, that couldn't be your home. So Lando suggested Lapland, Lily suggested Bali, Oscar suggested Greece and you suggested Florida, specifically Disneyworld so of course, yours had to be picked being the most likely place to be seen.

And of course if you were going to Florida you had to bring Logan... so obviously when pictures were released of you and the others being toured round the parks by a cast member and finding yourself building cars in Test Track in Epcot and Lando making a Lando Log out of it. The parks were extra busy when you guys went as well so you had to have your security walk round the parks with you, so you guys just drew all the attention to you.

After this you were in New York, filming the ending of the movie you were currently the lead in. So you couldn't come to the first race after summer break.

So when Lando was chilling out at home after the first race waiting for you to land back in France so he could drive and get you, he was watching TikTok's. He was aimlessly scrolling until he saw a video that was those ones where people go up to strangers with headphones and ask what they were listening too.

The guy clearly had no idea he was talking to you, a very famous actress but Lando once again was shocked how you seem to get yourself into these situation.

You politely take one airpod out and offer him a sorry i didn't understand. He asks what song your listening to and your reply had Lando bursting out laughing as it was Voulez-Vous by ABBA. He watched as you walked off with the song playing in the background as you took note of the camera and waved with a big grin.

He checked the comments knowing there would be an outrage that the guy didn't know who he was speaking too. And he was right of course.

-user1: how has my guy fumbled like that in front of Miss Y/N

-user2: no way my guy didn't know he's speaking to the richest young actress out there right now...

-user3: boy don't know Y/N Y/L/N and he's into F1... blunder fr

-user4: it's so funny where Y/N is caught out and how normal she is, she's just one of us at the end of the day

-user5: Y/N is spotted anywhere fr

The next time was when your mugshots got released, now this was the one that Lando found the most shocking. But after hearing your side of the story he was laughing and your manager eventually got the LAPD to apologize for their actions and their mistreatment.

"So Y/N some pictures were released of you ahead of this weekend following a big apology from the Los Angeles Police Department. Can you explain to us what happened?" the F1 interviewer asks and you chuckle a little.

"Yeah, its actually really funny considering i spent the day in a holding cell because no-one could get hold of me. So i was driving to set to start filming, and I was pulled over. I still don't know what I was actually pulled over for, they never ended up telling me. But when i was asked for ID i accidently handed over my Fake ID from the movie set. Once i realized my mistake I stupidly forgot we were in America where officers are a little more hands on and he decided to arrest me for handing a fake id to an officer of the law and interfering with an ongoing investigation. Obviously once people from set realised i wasn't just late they came down to the office and explain what i was trying to do, they re watched the footage from both my dash cam that was on me, and the officer's footage and it was deemed as an unlawful arrest so they let me go. I have no idea who leaked the mugshots but I still look good!" you exclaim making the interviewers laugh.

"That's quite the story Y/N, what do you get yourself into!" he offers making you laugh even more.

In the winter season, you taken some time off so you could travel round with Lando both for his last few races and his winter break, you spent his off season with him travelling from Bali, to Australia, to Finland, back home, and then to Thailand. But you had one request and that was to go tAmerica or South Korea to watch a KPOP concert.

You wanted to see StrayKids live, and so Lando not only got you front row tickets but also came with you to their LA show. You were sat in a normal bit of the crowd with other fans who when they noticed it was you were screaming before the artists themselves even came on.

It was even more funny when the group came out on stage and it took them 4 songs before they recognised you.

"Holy shit guys is that Y/N Y/L/N?" Chris asks looking down at the crowd where you were sat.

"Huge fan!" Hyunjin shouted, even though you had worked together before in Versace as Brand Ambassadors. Same with Felix and Yves Saint Laurent. Fans went crazy at the interactions happening and when it went viral later people only commented on the fact that you were just casually at a KPOP concert with your F1 driver boyfriend.

The next time was when Lando, who wasn’t opposed to going to a casino himself walked in on his girlfriend after a race at a casino. She was there at the Poker Table with winning chips animatedly talking to the dealer.

“Babe?” He’d asked you with a laugh surprised to see you here!

“Omg baby! Hi the guys said you were coming here and I wanted to surprise you but I ended up coming here a few hours to early and now I’ve won 30k. I’m thinking I’ll get you a new watch with that” she grins as if this 30k has just changed her life. When they know that 30k is absolutely nothing to her.

“You, how do you find yourself in these situations” he laughs looking over at you before tossing one of your chips into the pile looking at your current cards.

“Hey bet with your own money baby!” You frown at him everyone around the table laughing.

“Are we at the high stakes table right now?” He asks looking round and seeing some familiar faces of very rich men.

“Yeah baby why?” You ask nonchalantly, like it was nothing.

“My god, okay let’s wrap this up and go meet everyone else at the club”

And the most recent time was when you started live streaming from the top of the HollyWood sign after making the long climb up there.

Lando just watched from Bahrain, at pre- season testing while you were just climbing up to the Holly wood sign and showing the world where you were currently at.

He did worry for a second about your inability to know what you should and shouldn’t be showing the world and when. But when you panned round to show the two security with you in casual gym wear he was more settled.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416

[f1-mcmuffin]

GIRLL I LOVEE THE 5th MEMBER AU I HOPE U WILL MAKE IT INTO A SERIESS😆😆

I HAVE A IDEA MAYBE WHERE SHE WAS WITH LISA IN THE MIAMI GP

AND MAYBE WHERE LANDO AND THE OTHER DRIVERS AND WAGS WERE ATCHING THEIR CONCERT

I haven’t proofread this, so bear with me. Also I’ve never been to a BLACKPINK concert but I have been to an Ateez concert so I used my knowledge from that.

Sorry, it took me so long to come up with this. I'm trying to work on my other Lando story and keep up with some requests I’ve been receiving

an - updated, i'm trying to wither out the use of (y/n)

Spotlight & Slipstream pt. 2

(Requested) Lando Norris x 5th Member of BLACKPINK Reader

Summary: Lando, the drivers, and the wags go to a BLACKPINK concert

| Lando Norris Masterlist | Main Masterlist | PART 1 | Spotlight & Slipstream Masterlist |

Later in the Day (Barcelona) — Late Afternoon

The golden-hour sun spilled like honey over the cobbled streets of El Born, casting long, lazy shadows over the terrace café. The scent of grilled prawns, espresso, and sunscreen drifted through the air, mingling with the slow rhythm of Catalan conversations and the clink of cutlery. Under a striped umbrella, Lando sat with his chair tipped back, sipping lemonade through a straw as the condensation dripped down the glass.

Across from him, she looked sun-kissed and effortlessly cool — oversized vintage tee knotted at the waist, ripped baggy jeans, Landos’ gold chain glinting against her collarbone. Her sunglasses were pushed into her hair, and she was focused on the last few fries on his plate, stealing them one by one with lazy precision.

“I swear,” she mumbled with a dramatic sigh, “if I eat one more backstage cheese platter, I might lose my mind. Like — why is it always brie? What did cheddar ever do to deserve this slander?”

Lando chuckled around a mouthful of his sandwich. “Guess that’s the glamorous popstar life.”

she leaned forward, her elbows on the table, scrolling through texts from the girls. Her screen lit up with messages from her members. 

She looked up suddenly. “Hey,” she said casually, as if it had just occurred to her, “you’ve never actually seen me perform, have you?”

He blinked, wiping chip crumbs off his lip. “What?”

“You’ve never been to a BLACKPINK show,” she repeated, leveling him with a look. “Not even one.”

Lando shrugged defensively. “I’ve seen videos.”

“Not the same.” She made a face. “That’s like me saying I’ve experienced F1 because I played Mario Kart once. Doesn’t count.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay, first of all, Mario Kart is elite—”

She cut him off with a smirk. “Second of all, we’ve got a show in Paris next weekend. It’s sold out. Obviously.” She popped a fry in her mouth and spoke around it. “And I already checked the race calendar. You’re free.”

He tilted his head, skeptical. “You checked my calendar?”

“I checked your calendar,” she repeated. “And I saved space backstage for you, the drivers, the WAGs.”

He raised a brow. “You’re inviting the entire grid to a BLACKPINK concert?”

She shrugged, lips curling at the corner. “They owe me. I sat through seventy-eight laps of engine noise and everyone smelling like brake dust. Time to return the favor.”

Lando leaned forward on his elbows, taking her hand and brushing his thumb over her knuckles before bringing it to his lips. “You sure the world’s ready for that crossover?”

she grinned, eyes sparkling. “Ready or not, they’re getting it.”

Twitter/X;

Yourusername tweeted “Guess who’s coming to next week's concert?🙈”

@speedgirlie

if lando shows up at a blackpink concert in a pink hoodie i’m gonna pass out

@blackpinksbrainrot

SHE INVITED THE F1 GRID TO PARIS 😭 She is INSANE for this. iconic. queen behavior.

@itsjustjord

imagine carmen, kika, and lily in the BLACKPINK VIP section losing their minds to ‘Shut Down’ and then pierre filming it 😭

@grandprixtea

you just know carlos and charles are gonna try to look cool until ‘Kill This Love’ hits and it’s over

@notyourengineer

the crossover we didn’t know we needed — BLACKPINK IN YOUR PIT LANE

@lanprincess

if she performs 'Tally' while looking Lando dead in the eyes… we riot in the streets respectfully

Paris — Bercy Arena, One Week Later

The stadium pulsed like a living organism, humming with neon energy and adrenaline. Pink lights danced along every surface, illuminating the packed sea of fans — thousands of blinking lightsticks swaying in unison like fireflies.

The BORN PINK logo flashed on the screens overhead, looping iconic BLACKPINK videos that the crowd screamed along to with full-volume precision. The bass was deep enough to vibrate through ribcages.

In the VIP pit, directly at the front of the stage, a cluster of very confused Formula 1 drivers looked like they’d accidentally wandered into an alien dimension.

Lando just added to their story

Lando stood front and center, his black hoodie pulled low and a "(Y/N) IS MY BIAS" headband shoved on his curls — courtesy of Kika, who had cackled while strapping it to him in the hotel. His cheeks were already stickered with tiny pastel hearts. He tugged on the sleeves and glanced around, mildly dazed.

“This is… intense,” he muttered, watching fans crying before the show even began.

Carlos leaned toward George, eyes wide. “Why are people already crying? Did we miss something?”

Kika, sitting beside him in a rhinestone-covered jacket, just smirked. “Because this isn’t a concert. It’s a religion.”

Alex nodded in solemn agreement. “It’s like Ferrari and the Tifosi.”

Carlos blinked, gears turning. “Ohhh…” he said, visibly connecting the dots as he scanned the arena. “That explains the screaming.”

Behind them, Charles wore a glittery “Pretty Savage” sash over his Prada shirt and held a Jisoo fan in one hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. George was juggling a tray of mochi and a limited-edition lightstick, eyes wide with amusement. “Mate, we’re in the middle of a K-pop rave.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Carmen grinned, looping her arm around his and tugging him closer. She wore a Lisa tee and matching cat ears — totally unbothered and thriving. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the matching skirt.”

Pierre, in a BLACKPINK bomber jacket he insisted was “borrowed,” bobbed his head in time with Boombayah. Kika was beside him, animatedly teaching him the hand choreo.

“No, no, babe — boom bah YAH, not boom bah yeahhhh,” she shouted over the music. “There’s a difference!”

Meanwhile, Lando was holding up a handful of photocards like poker chips. “Okay, wait—who’s trading?” he said, scanning the group of teenage girls beside them. “I’ve got three Rosés, I want my girlfriend.”

A girl in a pink bucket hat gasped. “I’ll trade you for a Rosé!” She paused, her jaw dropping. “Wait—you’re Lando Norris, right?!”

Lando grinned. “Guilty. And I’m officially a BLINK now.”

Around him, the chaos only grew louder. Charles and Carlos were comparing their photocard pulls like kids in a schoolyard. George was handing out mochi like snacks at a birthday party. Rebecca and Alexandra were having their own photoshoot with the stage glowing pink behind them.

Carmen handed Lando another sticker sheet. “Put this on your cheek. You’re not fully committed yet.”

He groaned but obediently stuck a tiny sparkly heart on his face. “If the McLaren media team sees this, I’m blaming all of you.”

And then — everything changed.

The stadium lights dipped into sudden darkness. A wave of shrieking thundered through the arena, instant and deafening. On the giant screen, BLACKPINK’s latest MV burst to life, and the audience erupted, chanting every line, stomping in time, waving their lightsticks in perfect sync.

Even Carlos, startled by the sheer sound, clapped his hands over his ears. “This is louder than Monza!”

Lando couldn’t look away — the lights, the fans, the way the girls beside him were lit up like teenagers again, dancing with no care for who was watching.

He turned to Pierre, who was still holding his lightstick high like a torch. “We’ve been to Grands Prix around the world, but this—this might be the loudest crowd I’ve ever seen.”

Pierre just smirked and leaned in. “Welcome to the pink side.”

And when the lights dropped, the floor practically shook.

Lando didn’t think. He lifted his lightstick, let out a shout, and joined the storm. Tonight wasn’t about engines or trophies. It was about letting go. About dancing until your voice cracked. About watching the girl he loved rule an arena with a mic in her hand and stars in her eyes and for once, he wasn’t the one being cheered for — and he was totally okay with that.

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

BANG.

The arena shook as the opening beat detonated through the air like a cannon blast. LED walls erupted in pink lightning, strobes firing off in every direction. Backup dancers stormed the runway in slick, powerful formations, hips hitting each beat like war drums as they stalked toward the main stage. The audience screamed as if the roof was being torn off. Then came the synths—dark, cinematic, venomous.  “Pink Venom.”

Lando practically jumped out of his skin. “Oh sh—!” he blurted, flinching as columns of fire exploded from the stage, perfectly timed to the bass. 

They appeared—stepping into formation like goddesses summoned from myth, all dressed in varying shades of pure white, glowing under the pink neon floodlights.

She took center stage, her corset catching the light like diamonds. White Givenchy boots, shorts hugging her hips, every inch of her radiating danger and allure. It was elegant. It was lethal. Oscar’s jaw was somewhere on the floor.

Charles slapped Pierre’s chest. “We’re not surviving this.”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

“BLAAACKPINK”

They leaned their heads back in sync then strutted to their spots on stage, hair tossed, eyes locked with the crowd, bodies clicking into place like living weapons.

“Kick in the door, waving the coco!” Jennie’s voice slashed through the stadium. The crowd erupted again. Alex physically clutched Charles’s arm. “OH MY GOD.”

Carlos gave a low whistle. “Okay, that’s how you start a concert.”

She moved with a kind of power that didn’t feel learned. It was primal. Her hips hit the beat like they were casting spells. Her face was sharp, magnetic, playful, untouchable.

“This that pink venom, this that pink venom…”

“Straight to ya dome like—whoa, whoa, whoa…”

“Taste that pink venom…”

It wasn’t just her singing. It was the way she devoured the stage, all precision and confidence. When she stepped forward, the earth practically tilted. Charles elbowed Lando, eyes wide. “You didn’t tell us she was like this.”

Lando didn’t blink. “She’s insane,” There was something surreal about seeing her under stadium lights, thousands screaming her name, Onstage, she threw him a wink mid-step like it was nothing, and Lando forgot how to breathe. He leaned closer to Charles, still not looking away.

“She’s different when she’s up there.” Charles just nodded, face slack. He got it.

Then came the outro:

“I BRING THE PAIN LIKE…”

DA-RA-TA-TA, DA-RA-TA-TA-TA—

Fire exploded behind her like a war cry. Carlos jumped six inches off his seat. “She’s LETHAL!” he gasped.

Lando flinched again, instinctively shielding his face from the heat. “Okay, damn,” he muttered. His voice was soft. Reverent. Eyes wide.

Lando turned to George, awestruck. “Why do I feel like I’m falling in love again?” George wheezed. “YOU’RE DOWN BAD, BRO.”

Pierre, mouth open, barely blinked. “That’s her? Your Girlfriend?”

Lando didn’t even answer. He couldn’t look away from the way she rolled her shoulders into a body wave that somehow made the LED screen look too small. Couldn’t believe this was the same girl who wore his hoodie and fell asleep on his chest during movie nights. This was a storm in stilettos.

Fans in the VIP section were unhinged — screaming lyrics, waving lightsticks in choreographed perfection, crying, filming, dancing like it was salvation. A girl beside George was sobbing while holding a her photocard to her chest like a relic.

The song ended. Lights cut to black. Smoke blanketed the stage.

The drivers stood there like they’d just made it through a typhoon.

“That was just one song?” Carlos blinked.

The lights came back, all five girls standing in line, eyes gleaming.

“Hana, dul, set—”

“Annyeonghaseyo, Beullaegpingkeu-ibnida!” they chorused, bowing 90 degrees. Fans went feral. They began introducing themselves one by one, voices warm, laughing, tossing casual hellos in English and broken French. She stepped forward, grinning.

“So…” Her voice curled around the mic like honey. “I have some very special guests here tonight.” The crowd went into immediate buzz-mode.

Some already knew. They’d spotted the lanky silhouettes in the VIP section, the lightsticks trembling near them. The ones trying to blend in but failing spectacularly.

“Let’s give a huge PARIS welcome to the Formula 1 drivers and the WAGS!”

BOOM SPOTLIGHT.

Right onto Lando, Charles, Pierre, George, Oscar, Carlos, Carmen, Kika, Alexandra, Lily, and Rebecca. The camera feed hit the jumbotron. The audience went nuts. They all looked like they'd just been caught sneaking into a girl’s sleepover.

“Please,” she teased, glancing their way. “Don’t be shy. Say hi!”

Charles gave the world's most awkward wave. George gave a deep, exaggerated bow like a theatre kid. Pierre threw double finger hearts, grinning. Lando? Lando shook his head, hiding his face in his hoodie. Bright red.

“Oh, come on,” Lisa pouted, hands on hips. “Landooo.”

 The girls start a chant, then the crowd joins in and starts chanting his name. “LAN-DO! LAN-DO! LAN-DO!” It built fast. Unstoppable. The entire arena chanting his name.

Defeated, he stood up, raised both hands like he was being arrested, and gave a sheepish wave.

she laughed into her mic. “Don’t let him fool you. He did try to learn the choreo to ‘Pink Venom.’ I have proof.”

“You said you deleted that video!” He yelled, his hands going to cover his face.

Jennie mock-whispered into her mic, “He was actually really good though…”

The other girls giggled behind her. Lando shook his head in embarrassment.

she smiled, stepping back into formation. “And to all the F1 fans in the crowd tonight — thank you for being part of this world with me. And to my amazing, chaotic, wonderful boyfriend…” She sent him another wink.

Then the music cut in—DUN DUN DUN, DUN DUN DUN-DUN—

Her voice echoed, electric:

“Paris, are you ready for tonight? Let me hear you fucking scream!”

The crowd answered with a wall of noise. A roar that hit like a tidal wave. The night had only just begun.

Kika had both arms raised high, lightstick in one hand, belting out every word like she was part of the lineup. Her energy matched the crowd’s fever pitch — sweat, glitter, and absolute chaos.

On stage, the girls lined up like soldiers — eyes locked, chins tilted, legs set — as the arena held its breath. Then the beat dropped.

“Ha, how you like that?”

“You gon' like that, that-that-that, that, that-that-that, that—”

The crowd detonated. The floor of the stadium shook. Thousands jumped as one, lightsticks pulsing like a galaxy, the sound of the crowd almost louder than the music itself. The choreography was nothing short of assault. Explosive stomps, razor-sharp arm swings, lethal hair tosses — every move landing with sniper precision. It wasn’t dancing. It was domination.

She was a force. Every line she hit, she hit like it owed her something — her face fierce, eyes gleaming, completely locked in. Her ponytail cracked through the air like a whip, her crystal-studded harness catching every flash of light. The energy rolling off her could melt concrete. She spun, hair flying, stomping with every ounce of power she had. The second drop hit.

“Now, look at you, now look at me (uh)Look at you, now look at me (uh)Look at you, now look at me, How you like that?!”

BOOM — fire exploded from the stage in towering flames, illuminating the entire arena. The heat was real. The VIP section flinched in unison. Confetti burst into the air like a cannon, showering down like stardust. Fans were shrieking, sobbing, waving signs and lightsticks like they were trying to fly. A girl next to Charles literally fainted into her friend’s arms — completely out cold. Security was radioing medics, and no one even noticed.

Lando’s mouth was open, unmoving. His eyes wide, glitter reflecting off them. He couldn’t process what he was seeing.

On stage, she hit her final move, twisting with a full body spin, hair flying, legs stomping with raw force. The lights flared behind her, then snapped to black. In that moment, just before full darkness fell, she turned her head, smirked, tossed her ponytail over her shoulder like it weighed nothing, and strutted off the stage.

A delayed, collective scream from the crowd that shattered the air. The drivers just sat there, stunned into silence. Carlos blinked and turned slowly to Charles, eyes wide, “…I get it now.” The stadium lights cut to black.

Then – the bassline of “Pretty Savage” dropped like a cannon blast, vibrating through the floor, the walls, every chest in the arena. The rumble was so deep it felt like it shook bones loose.

Fans screamed like it was Judgment Day. Pink and white strobes sliced through the darkness, pulsing to the beat like the heartbeat of something dangerous. The giant LED screen lit up, flashing in bold chrome letters:

“You better run, run, run.” 

“Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.” she appeared on the big screen, strutting in slow motion, lips curled into a deadly smirk. “Purrr.” Each syllable hit with surgical confidence, mirrored perfectly by the rest of the girls as they emerged one by one from the shadows, owning it like they had claws out.

"BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA." 

The place exploded. When she stepped forward for her line, the whole crowd leaned in like she’d cast a spell:

“All my diamonds, they yellow or bright white…”

“Got 'em blind, can't find me, bitch I’m outta sight…”

The camera snapped to her face, full zoom on the jumbotron — she smirked, eyes glinting like danger.

“If you mad, stay mad — we not alike.”

That line punched through the air, dripping with venom and power and the crowd loved it. A fresh wave of screams hit like a tsunami. You could hear girls screaming the lyrics and guys yelling like they were in a mosh pit. Someone threw a boa into the air. Security guards were full-on dancing.

The backup dancers peeled away like a tide parting, and the girls strutted forward, claiming the front of the stage like it belonged to them — because it did. She stepped back into the spotlight. She flipped her ponytail like a whip, eyes blazing. The lights hit just right, casting fire across her crystal harness as she dropped into the chorus choreography like she was forged in it. Every move was violent poetry — sharp, surgical, explosive. Even the tiniest motions were precise. The WAGs? Screaming. Dancing. Spilling drinks. Phones out. Fully obsessed. Kika was jumping like she was at a rave. Lily had slight tears in her eyes. Carmen was shouting every word.

When the chorus hit again — harder, louder, a wall of synchronized power — the girls dropped into their final formation, silhouettes outlined by a wall of blazing lights behind them.

Final pose. Lights out. The arena erupted. You’d think someone won a world championship. People were screaming. Crying. Collapsing into their friends. Charles had a hand over his mouth. Lando looked shell-shocked. Pierre just mouthed “holy shit.” Carlos turned, still stunned, to no one in particular. “…They don’t make them like that in Spain.”

The lights dimmed. A hush fell over the crowd. A soft pink glow bathed the stadium, delicate as a sunrise. Like the calm before a storm.

“Lovesick girls, lovesick girls…”

Lightsticks lit up like constellations, painting the arena in shimmering pink. Fans screamed every member’s name in a chaotic chorus of devotion. Phones flew into the air to capture the moment.

Their silhouettes appeared.

Like queens descending onto their throne.

As the first beat dropped, smoke curled around their boots, catching the light like magic mist. Spotlights chased their every move — soft and ethereal, like chasing ghosts made of starlight.

Her vocals broke through the air like a velvet ribbon unfurling. Silky. Haunting. Bare.

“yeongwonhan bam changmun eoptneun bange uril gadun love (love)” Endless night, love trapped us in a windowless room (love)

“What can we say? maebeon apado oechineun love (love)” What can we say? Long for love even though it hurts every time (love)

She stood alone at the edge of the stage, framed in silver light, the smoke swirling around her like a secret. Her voice echoed — not just through the arena, but into people. You could feel it.

From the VIP section, Lando leaned toward George, his eyes wide.  “Her voice is unreal.” George just nodded, too stunned to respond.

The chorus kicked in, and the stadium shook with unity. Everyone was singing along:

“We are the lovesick girls…”

It wasn’t just singing — it was a tidal wave of voices, thousands of people screaming the lyrics like a prayer. Like a wound.

She reached the edge of the catwalk, twirled with practiced grace, and joined Jennie and Jisoo center stage for the pre-chorus.

“But we were born to be alone, yeah we were born to be alone…”

The beat dropped again — and suddenly it was all movement. Flashing lights, glitter cannons exploding, arms slicing the air. The five of them danced with the precision of soldiers, the softness of ballerinas, the power of a revolution.

“But why are we still looking for love?”

By the final chorus, the lights softened like a sunset. The crowd was swaying now, arms in the air, tears in their eyes. The girls slowed, movements fluid, voices layered in perfect harmony, floating over the crowd like a hymn. She stepped forward for her final line. The others faded behind her. The spotlight narrowed.

“But we’re still looking for love…”

She said it like it hurt but she smiled — a tired, soft, knowing smile because there was something beautiful about that kind of pain. 

Silence. One beat. Screams. Applause. Sobbing. Chants. One guy in the pit just screamed into the sky.

She gave a tiny bow, cheeks flushed pink under the lights. She found Lando in the crowd, hands above his head, clapping with everything he had. His eyes were locked on her like nothing else existed, not the music, not the noise, just her.

In the VIP box — Lily, Carmen, Kika, and the rest of the WAGs were frozen. Slack-jawed. Shimmer-eyed. Their boyfriends? Stunned. Like they’d just seen the northern lights for the first time.

George broke it with a yell:  “RUN IT BACK!”

Then came that trumpet.

DUN—DUN DUN DUN DUN.

The lights pulsed crimson. The screams were instant. Deafening.

Lando sat forward in his seat as fire cannons exploded in time with the beat. Pierre’s jaw dropped. Kika clutched his arm, eyes wide with shock and delight. Lily was already on her feet, screaming along to the instrumental intro. From the VIP row, even Charles looked stunned.

From the center of the stage, five shadows emerged through a thick wall of smoke, stomping in perfect sync. Black boots. All leather. Heavy belts. Fingerless gloves. High ponytails and sharp eyeliner. Each one looked like a cinematic villainess who could kill you and look flawless doing it.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“BLACKPINK IN YOUR AREA”

Jennie exploded into the spotlight first, fierce and flawless, her presence larger than life as she delivered the iconic opening line. Her voice sliced through the air, chin high, eyes untamed and wild.

“Cheonsa gateun ‘hi’ kkeuten akma gateun ‘bye’...”

Lily’s voice cracked in disbelief. “She’s not real. She’s not even human.”

Lisa stormed forward next, flowing through the verse like water over a blade. The Korean-English rap twisted through the arena, every line delivered with laser precision.

“Here I come kick in the door!” 

She strutted to the edge of the stage, one hand on her hip, the other tossing a middle finger to gravity. The crowd went feral. 

Jisoo stepped into the light. Elegant. Deadly. Her vocals were rich and emotional, haunting in contrast to the savage beat. She sang like a goddess of revenge, arm raised toward the sky as if she could rewrite fate itself.

Rosé was next. Her voice soft but dangerous, golden and aching as the chorus approached. She tossed her blonde hair, let it fall like silk down her back, and gave a single, knowing smirk to the crowd before launching into the line that detonated the arena:

“LET’S KILL THIS LOVE!”

The drop hit like a meteor.

“YEAH-YEAH-YEAH-YEAH-YEAH”

The beat exploded like an earthquake, and the five of them stomped forward, falling into the explosive choreography — each hit choreographed to perfection. Loud. Fierce. Like a war anthem.

RUM PUM PUM PUM PUM PUM

The choreography was thunderous — they stomped in unison, every beat of the bass a war cry. Lights strobed. Pyro flared. The crowd screamed the lyrics back with unholy energy. She [==[stepped into the center. The shift was instant, like gravity bent around her. She moved like a queen who owned the world — the glint of her black-and-gold outfit catching every flash of light as she turned her gaze to the sea of fans.

“Feelin’ like a sinner, it’s so fire with him, I go boo hoo,” she rapped, locking into step beside Lisa.

“He said, ‘You look crazy,’ thank you, baby. I owe it all to you.” Lisa rapped

Her body was a weapon — slick with sweat, her neck gleaming as she tossed her hair back, spun, and delivered her next line with a hit to the chest:

“Got me all messed up, his love is my favorite...” She sang with a strong passion. 

“But you plus me sadly can be dangerous.” Lisa finished

The final chorus slammed in, and they moved like an army of five. Choreography razor-clean. Faces fierce. The final formation hit like thunder.

“LET’S KILL THIS LOVE!”

The beat dropped one last time, and the stage exploded with flames behind them — five silhouettes framed in fire, standing wide-legged, defiant, unstoppable. The stadium lost its mind. Kika and Lily screamed louder than the girls in the front row. Pierre leaned toward Lando, breathless. “You’re not coming back from that.” Lando didn’t take his eyes off the stage, jaw slack, chest heaving. “I don’t want to.” But he didn’t know what was coming next.

The lights dipped again. Smoke rolled back over the stage like a tide. A hush swept through the crowd — anticipation so thick it felt like thunder waiting to crack. Then came that slow, hypnotic whistle. A crimson spotlight swept across the stage like a hunter’s eye. BLACKPINK re-emerged like phantoms in the dark.

Lisa strutted out first — hips rolling, eyes sharp. Jennie followed, her walk slower, more deliberate, like she was stalking prey. Jisoo’s smirk was laced with poison, and Rosé’s blonde hair flicked like a whip. She stepped out last, wrapped in black lace and crimson mesh. Her thigh-high boots glinted under the strobes, her hair braided back tight with silver chains running through. She didn’t walk — she prowled. Then came the line.

“I’ve been known to kiss and tell…” Her voice was molten. Deadly. “Send girls to wishing wells. If you’re my man, I want you to myself.” She didn’t just sing it — she owned it. Her eyes scanned the crowd like she was choosing a target. “I know I’ll have enemies, as long as you’re into me. But I don’t care—’cause I got what I need.”

Jisoo and Rosé took the pre-chorus, their voices featherlight but dangerous, the calm before a storm. She moved to center as the beat climbed.

“I went crazy over you~~ (ah ah) over you, only you (ah ah)!”

The choreography locked into place — hips snapping, arms slicing, bodies moving with devastating precision. Lightsticks rippled like a sea of neon. 

Lisa’s solo verse. The scream from the crowd nearly shattered the sound barrier. She rapped with sensual venom: “Feels wrong, but it’s right, right / Blacked out, no night light…” She stalked the edge of the stage, hair flying, her body a sinuous line of motion. At one point she grabbed her waist and tugged her top slightly down, just enough to make the entire stadium gasp. Jennie’s verse came next — sultry, sharp as glass.

“Boy, by the time I’m done / I won’t be the only one…” She leaned into the camera and grinned like a devil in lipstick. The entire screen behind her turned red.

Rosé’s voice soared over the final chorus. Lisa threw her head back mid-verse. Jisoo winked with lethal charm. She blew a kiss. Right at the VIP box. Straight at Lando.

It was surgical. She twirled, dropped low, and came back up into perfect formation as the final chorus hit like a heartbeat.

The screen behind them shimmered with glitching red florals and black static as they moved into the final dance break — a flurry of hips, precision steps, flowing arms, and rolling shoulders, a seduction in every breath.

Charles leaned forward. “Did she just—?”

“She winked at you last song too,” George added. Lando didn’t blink.

“I know.” 

The final beat struck. The lights went out. Lando was still staring at the stage. Grinning, breathless, proud, stunned, and utterly hers.

The lights dimmed again, plunging the stadium into a sea of flickering crimson. A hush swept over the crowd like a tide pulling back, anticipation thrumming through every chest like the moment before a storm breaks. A single piano note echoed then another, flames erupted along the edges of the stage, curling upward like the breath of a dragon. The intro to “Playing With Fire” slithered through the speakers — slow, sultry, dangerous. 

Jennie stepped forward, emerging from the shadows like a queen drenched in war paint. Her red leather corset gleamed under the spotlight, high ponytail swinging with calculated precision. She didn’t just sing — she declared.

"Uri eomman mael naege malhaesseo." Her voice sliced through the air like a blade. Controlled. Untouchable. Her hair pulled back into a high pony, red leather corset gleaming under the spotlight. Her voice sliced through the air like a warning.

Then Jisoo moved in beside her — fluid, graceful, her deep voice the kind that haunted and lingered. “Eomma mari kkok majeuljjido molla.” Her every step was poetry with an edge, her eyes locked on the camera like she was telling a secret.

Rosé followed, her blonde hair catching every flicker of the flames. Her voice — all silk and smoke — curled around the next line like it hurt to sing it. “Meomchul su eomneun i tteollimeun, on and on and on.”

Then the beat shifted. Lisa strutted into frame, swagger oozing from every move. She rapped her verse like she owned the planet “Look at me, look at me now, ireoke neon nalaetaeugo.” like the floor belonged to her alone. She pointed into the crowd, smirked, and half the stadium swore she picked them.

“Uri sarangeun buljangnan (oh, oh, oh) my love is on fire (ooh)”

Her voice cut like a blade and soothed like honey, a raw blend of rasp and control that made the air feel heavier. She spun with Lisa, their backs touching as they circled the center of the stage like lions — every move precise, magnetic. In the VIP box, chaos was in full bloom.

George looked like he’d just seen God. “Lando. Is that normal? Like... does she always move like that?”

Pierre didn’t even blink. “I think I stopped breathing.” Kika screamed into her hands. Lily just stood there whispering, “She’s not real,” over and over like a mantra. But Lando? He didn’t say a word. Couldn’t.

He was frozen — elbows on his knees, jaw slack, chest rising fast. Eyes locked on her. It wasn’t just an attraction. It was awe. A punch to the gut and a pull to the chest all at once. Every sway of her hips, every hair toss, every time her hand carved the air like she was painting fire — it all struck him somewhere deep. Somewhere dangerous. That body roll. She smirked straight at him, lips curled, eyes dark with mischief. She hit the move like she’d been waiting for him to look, and he was definitely looking. Lando exhaled like he’d been sucker punched.

The girls dropped into formation. Five silhouettes cloaked in smoke and fire.

"My love is on fire..."

The beat dropped, and they hit the floor hard — one leg bent and the other extended, hair whipping forward like whips. Heels slammed the stage. The impact of their synchronized pose rippled through the entire stadium.

Kika screamed, “OH MY GOD!”

Lando didn’t blink. Couldn’t. His pulse was in his throat. His hands were gripping the edge of his seat. His mouth was open slightly, breath caught mid-air. She was absolutely in her element. Firelight flickered across her skin as she leaned into the final chorus, eyes wild, dancing like she was made of flame herself. She caught his eye again. Just for a second, and winked. He swore the entire world tilted.

The final chorus roared through the stadium. She sang with her whole chest, dancing like it was the last stage she'd ever see. Flames licked at her heels. Sweat shimmered on her skin. Every line she delivered struck Lando in the ribs. 

The girls snapped into their ending pose. She stood front and center, arm outstretched like she’d just dropped a match on gasoline. Her expression was unreadable — somewhere between fierce and feral. Her lips parted like she was still catching her breath.

The lights cut.

The crowd screamed. In the darkness, all you could hear were breaths, cheers, and the rapid beating of thousands of hearts, including Lando’s. He leaned back slowly, trying to exhale but failing.

“Mate…” George whispered, half-laughing, half-terrified. “You’re in so much trouble.”

But Lando just grinned, wide and dazed, eyes still on the darkened stage.

“I know,” he said, voice hoarse. “I really fucking know.”

And the stage began to light again — this time with a single spotlight. The solos were starting.

But Lando? He was still sitting there like he'd been struck by lightning. He was already waiting for her to come back.

“Flower”

The stadium lights softened to a pale violet glow, washing over the crowd like moonlight over still water. A gentle breeze, almost imagined, seemed to drift through the air as delicate cherry blossom petals floated across the LED screens — swirling, slow, dreamlike.

Soft, weightless — they drifted across the massive LED screens and fell from above, holographic projections that shimmered like falling stars. The silence was reverent. Sacred. Jisoo emerged alone from the side of the stage.

Her outfit was a breathtaking fusion — a modern reinterpretation of a Hanbok, lilac and silver silk catching the light with every slow, intentional step. Silver hairpins glinted in her dark, flowing hair, which spilled down her back in effortless waves. A sheer train followed behind her, delicate as morning mist.

The first haunting notes of “Flower” played — the unmistakable, delicate “eh-eh, eh, eh” The crowd fell silent. Not out of boredom, but reverence. Kika gasped and gripped Alex’s arm, whispering like she didn’t want to break the spell, “She looks like a literal princess.”

Jisoo began to move — slow, controlled, almost fragile — her hands tracing invisible lines through the air as if scattering petals with every motion. Each flick of her wrist was purposeful. Every step a story. She twirled. The lights flared softly around her like a blooming flower. The crowd, thousands of voices strong, sang along gently — almost respectfully — not daring to overpower her voice but needing to be part of the moment.

From the VIP box, Charles leaned forward, eyes narrowed in focus. “Is this the one with the flower move?” he murmured, a touch of awe in his tone. Then it came — the iconic point dance.

Jisoo raised her hands in that now-famous flourish, wrists twirling delicately in front of her face, her expression caught somewhere between heartache and poise. Graceful. Hypnotic. Her body swayed like a stem in the wind. Each move was intentional, soft but weighted. A woman letting go without ever fully breaking. Pierre, who hadn't looked away once, muttered under his breath, “No wonder TikTok lost its mind.”

As the final chorus rang out, Jisoo knelt in the center of the stage, fingers gently pinching the air like she was holding the last petal of a wilted rose. She let it fall. The lights faded to dusk. The crowd, again, screamed but it was a different kind of scream it was softer, emotional, like they’d all just been let in on something private. Charles, who rarely said much during performances, simply nodded. “She made heartbreak look like art.” 

“On The Ground” / “Gone”

The stage dipped into moody twilight, hues of midnight blue and soft gray bleeding into the crowd. A single spotlight glowed like a distant moon, focused on a raised circular platform center-stage. There sat Rosé. Alone, cross-legged, a white electric guitar resting in her lap like an old friend. Dressed in a sleek black and white two-piece — tailored and minimal, but gleaming with subtle rhinestones — she looked like the personification of heartbreak itself. Glittering trails were painted beneath her eyes like tears caught in the spotlight.

The first lonely chords of “Gone” echoed through the arena, and her voice followed — fragile, aching, painfully raw. Like an open letter no one was supposed to read aloud.

Every word felt like a confession.

In the VIP box, Carlos blinked slowly, visibly hit. “Okay… this one’s hitting my soul.”

Rosé closed her eyes as she sang the chorus, her head tilted slightly back. Her voice cracked — not out of weakness, but because it was real. Like she'd lived every word.

Lando turned to Lily, who stood frozen with both hands clasped to her chest, already mouthing every lyric. “She’s your favorite?” he asked gently.

Lily nodded without looking away. “She always will be.”

The song faded into silence, like a sigh. The platform began to lower slowly, fog spilling around its base. The stage pulsed with a heartbeat-like thrum. The crowd stirred.

Rosé reappeared downstage, the guitar now slung across her back. The lights behind her flared white-hot and golden, like spotlights on a runway. She walked forward with slow, deliberate confidence — like someone who had broken, and then learned how to carry every shard.

“Everything I need is on the ground…”

Fans raised their phones, thousands of lights blinking in sync. Rosé’s voice soared, full of longing and clarity, as she poured herself into the bridge. George was swaying with his phone flashlight on, looking completely unironically emotional. 

As the final chorus swelled, Rosé made her way to the edge of the stage, kneeling down with one hand outstretched. Fans in the front row reached for her like she was something divine, something rare — and she smiled through her tears, fingers brushing theirs gently. Even Charles, previously the most neutral observer, just shook his head and said, “I get it now. I get the hype.” Lando glanced at Lily again, who had wiped a tear without shame.

“Wasn’t expecting to cry tonight,” he muttered. She smiled through watery eyes. “That’s Rosé for you.” The final note rang out — soft, lingering, bittersweet.

Rosé stood in the haze, bowed once with both hands over her heart, then walked offstage slowly, guitar still strapped to her back.

The lights dimmed. The crowd roared. And somewhere in the noise, everyone realized: they’d just witnessed a masterclass in quiet devastation.

“Money” / “Lalisa”

The stadium blacked out. Not a single light, not a single sound. Just pure silence. A bass drop like a thunderclap. Red strobe lights exploded across the stage like a warning alarm. The iconic beat of “Money” shook the floor, rattling through every ribcage in the building. 

Lisa strutted onto the stage like a storm made flesh. Black leather crop top, matching shorts with chrome chains swinging at her hips, knee-high boots that clicked with every step. Sunglasses on. Braids slicked and sharp. She wasn’t just performing — she was declaring war.

“It’s the end of the month and the weekend…”

The crowd detonated and so did the VIP box. Pierre literally stood up like he’d just seen God. “SHE’S INSANE.” Kika, dancing full-body in her chair, screamed, “GO OFF, LISA!!”

Lisa moved like the laws of physics didn’t apply to her — every step precise, every hair flip calculated, every smirk weaponized. She snapped her hips to the beat, crowd wrapped around her finger. Then came the sunglasses moment — ripped off and tossed into the pit as she slid into a perfect split. George clutched his chest. She rose from the floor like a phoenix, hair flying, eyes gleaming, and just as the beat seemed to slow—

“LALISA” dropped. Seamless transition. No mercy.

The visuals on the screen turned gold, flames licked the edges of the stage, and Lisa grinned — a real grin — the kind that meant trouble.

“Lalisa, love me, Lalisa, love me.” She switched to Thai mid-verse and the crowd went ballistic. Flags waved. Fandoms collided. Lisa tore through the choreo like she was born to set fires.

Carlos turned to Charles, voice barely audible over the noise. “I’m scared and obsessed.”

Lisa didn’t miss a single beat. From body rolls to hair whips, from center stage to the edge, she owned it. Total domination. By the time the bridge hit, she’d pulled off a mic drop moment without even touching the mic. One last spin. A wink. A kiss blown to the rafters. She twirled offstage with a strut that could’ve shut down traffic. Her smirk should’ve been classified as a weapon. The crowd lost its mind.

In the VIP box, Lando was blinking like he’d just come out of a trance. He leaned toward Oscar, completely dazed. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oscar just snorted and shook his head. “And you think I’m intense?”

Kika leaned across George, grinning. “Lisa does not come to play.”

Backstage, you could already hear the faint thrum of the final solo building… and the screams weren’t stopping anytime soon.

"You & Me” (Coachella Version)

The lights melted into a soft, smoky hazy blue as fog curled low over the stage floor like a rising tide. A crescent moon appeared, suspended above, glowing silver against the midnight sky backdrop. The arena held its breath.

Jennie.

Dressed in a glittering, crystal-studded mini dress that shimmered like moonlight on water, her hair slicked back in perfect waves, her heels silent as she stepped forward — like she was floating. A dream in motion. A fevered vision no one could look away from.

“I love you and me, dancing in the moonlight…” Her voice was soft, seductive, delicate but deadly — like lace draped over a dagger. Jennie moved like water — smooth, fluid, yet sharp when she wanted to be. Every movement intentional. Every flick of her wrist, every slow roll of her hips, was magnetic. She didn’t need to try.

The crowd began chanting her name between verses like a spell.

“JENNIE! JENNIE! JENNIE!”

She tossed her hair, smirked into the camera, and sang the next line like she was letting someone in on a secret.

The beat dropped and Jennie snapped into full power. Lights pulsed to the rhythm. Backup dancers emerged like shadows circling her, but no one could touch her spotlight. She was pure command — hitting every step, every glide, every shoulder roll with the poise of someone who knew the world watched… and liked it that way.

Lily gasped “This is—this is ART.”

Jennie did a slow spin, dropped into a low dip, and when she rose — lips parted, eyes lidded, breathing heavy — the crowd screamed like it was the end of the world.

Kika, unable to look away, eyes wide with a grin. “Everyone wants to be her. Period.” She had an effect — a silent, slow burn that kept getting hotter the longer you watched.

As the last chorus melted into the bridge, Jennie walked forward — alone again — under the moonlight. The audience swayed with her.  She ended with a slow, teasing bow, one hand to her chest, the other extended like she was offering her heart — or maybe daring someone to take it. The lights dimmed. The screams erupted.

Pierre, stunned, barely able to find words, just said, “She scares me. In the best way.”

Carlos nodded. “Yeah. That wasn’t a performance. That was possession.”

The stage reset began. Everyone knew who was coming next.

“Thunder” / “Seoul City”

The stadium lights shattered into flickering diamonds — strobes pulsing like a heartbeat. Then the spotlight hit.

She stepped out wearing a rhinestone-studded mini dress that caught every glint of light, silver platform boots that stomped like authority, and glittering braids piled high, she looked like a Y2K pop goddess summoned from a fever dream. Her mic shimmered under the spotlights — so did she. A row of dancers flanked her like a glam squad of It-girls, and the first beat dropped.

“Got that uh-huh, that uh-huh, Big big uh-huh” 

The crowd exploded. Banners waved. Fans shrieked. She didn’t just command attention — she demanded it. She strutted down the catwalk with a smirk that could end wars, flipping her hair, winking straight into the steadicam like the stage was hers — because it was. Her choreography was pure fire: sharp, sexy, playful — the kind of movement that screamed effortlessness while still being precision-cut. She didn’t just move with the music; she was the music.

“Somethin’ a little like thunder, got that make you wonder…”

Every sway of her hips, every body roll, every sly smile left the crowd breathless. She sang live — her voice powerful and sultry, flipping from airy high notes to confident rap bars without breaking a sweat.

“No, you said I’ll never get by. Now look at me I’m so high." Lando jolted in his seat like he’d been struck. Face flushed, lips parted, eyes wide. Pierre elbowed him but got no reaction.

“You wanna know what it feel’s like…”

“It’s like, Got the uh-huh, that uh-huh” The beat morphed, pulsing smoother, darker — and the crowd collectively screamed as "Seoul City" began.

“Ooh, ooh, ooh…”

Lights went soft, pink and violet. Her silhouette curved as she leaned into her mic, slow and seductive. She walked with lazy grace, like a panther. Her voice melted over the beat. 

“Give me hug, need your love, touch my thigh, tell me what puts you in that mind” Lando sat frozen, jaw clenched, chest visibly rising and falling.

“I could be, be your prize, pick me up. Flying high, paradise… in Seoul City.” The dancers fell away. The lights tightened.

She was alone again. A single spotlight. And she knelt — on her knees at the very end of the stage. Looking directly at him.

“Would you make me your boss, pretty please? Pretty please, let me ease your mind…” Lando’s hand curled tightly around his thigh. 

She sang only to him: “Look at me, can you breathe?” “Ah…” (inhale)

And she leaned her head back, her neck glistening with sweat, the rhinestones of her dress catching like stars. The crowd screamed so loud it rattled the floor. She stayed there — a beat of silence, eyes closed. Lando’s lips parted like he’d forgotten he had them.

“Ah…” (exhale)

She smirked at the crowd. At him. “I could give you life.”

She rose like a queen ascending.

Dance break. Spins. Hair flips. Body rolls sharp enough to kill. Smoke jets burst. Strobe lights went wild. She ended center stage, arms out, head tilted. The screen behind her pulsed once more — then blackout, the entire stadium ROARED. Kika screamed into Pierre’s jacket. Charles and Alex looked shell-shocked. Even stoic Oscar had to sit down. Carmen and Lily shaking their hammerbongs like crazy. And Lando? Lando was gone. Mouth open, heart pounding. Wrecked.

George leaned in, eyes wide. “Mate… you need air?”

Lando blinked once and covered his face. “I need a priest.”

Vivaldi’s “La Campanella” rang through the stadium, its sharp strings plucking ominously, slow and deliberate—like a warning. The crowd roared in recognition, screams piercing through the hush that followed. The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the bass dropped.

The stage exploded in pulsing white strobes and swirling smoke. Trap beats thundered through the arena, shaking the floor. The screen came to life with glitching chrome graphics, and through the haze, five silhouettes emerged.

“Keombaegi anya tteonan joek eopseunikka—” Jennie’s voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

The five of them stalked forward in a clean, synchronized line, their steps heavy and deliberate. Final boss energy. The crowd lost it — banners shaking, fans crying, phones in the air.

Lando was frozen. His jaw clenched, eyes tracking only one person on that stage.. She didn’t even look at him, not yet but she knew he was watching.

“Stay in your own lane cause im bout to swerve. Catch me when you hear my McLaren go vroom, vroom, vroom” She changed the lyric and the staduim heard it. Lando’s jaw actually dropped. A full beat of silence before he caught himself and tried to play it off, swallowing a grin. Carlos slapped his chest.

She smirked into the camera, sweat glistening on her temple, eyes locked in, spinning into another sharp move like she hadn’t just turned a stadium into rubble. Fans screamed. Carlos slapped Lando's arm as Lando tried to play it cool. “She just said McLaren, Mate.”

“She’s ridiculous,” he whispered. Lando was already leaning forward. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, eyes fixed on her like he’d been hit by a damn spell. She was locked in — sweat glistening at her hairline, muscles flexing as she spun, popped, dropped. A goddess with a vengeance.

“When we pull up you know it’s a shutdown…” Lisa exploded into her verse, her ponytail snapping like a whip. Jennie strutted to the side, gun-loaded in leather and rhinestones. Jisoo followed, eyes cool, moving with icy precision. Rosé twirled into a glow, her voice soaring.

“Whip it, whip it, whip it, whip it…”

Jisoo came in next, her vocals ethereal but cool as ice. She twirled and landed into formation like it was effortless. Her eyes flicked over the crowd as if to say, Bow down.

Rosé’s voice rang out crystal-clear, fingers gliding through her wavy hair as she hit a spin and sent the mic up to the sky. Then all five of them lined up.The chorus dropped.

“Shut it down, BLACKPINK in your area…shut it down BLACKPINK in your area”

The chorus slammed in like a hammer. Hips snapped, arms sliced, boots thundered across the stage. They were choreo monsters — no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just raw, weaponized artistry.

“Keep talkin’, we shut you down.”

The lights cut. A flicker of flame — dollar signs scrolling across the screen, slow pink fire curling from the corners. The bassline growled like a beast waking up. 

A spotlight cracked open. “Typa Girl.”

Rosé emerged first, her chrome corset throwing reflections across the crowd like shattered glass. She prowled forward, her gaze slicing through the fans. Every syllable had bite.

“Typa girl that’s gonna make you wanna dream…”

Lisa took over next, hair sleek and straight, dressed in an elegant deconstructed blazer with diamond-cut slits at the waist and boots that clicked with power. Her delivery was chill and sly, a smirk curving her lips as she sang,

“Typa girl that come straight up off the screen…”

The dancers moved around them in clean, sharp patterns, letting each girl have their moment while matching their tempo. Lights flashed red and gold in rhythm with the beat.

Jennie stepped into the spotlight next, loose waves flowing, a glittering fringe top catching every bit of light. Her voice rang out clear and strong.

“Typa girl you wanna ice up, make me freeze…”

Jisoo took her verse next, dressed in black leather and rhinestones, moving like she owned the entire universe. Her delivery was fierce, unapologetic, her voice snapping over the beat.

“You the typa girl you wanna wife up, sign the pre…”

She stepped forward.

Hair up in a high, sleek braided ponytail. Wearing a custom hot pink crop jacket over a bustier, chains dripping from her belt, and heeled boots laced with silver. She smirked before her mic even touched her lips — she knew what she was about to do.

“I bring money to the table, not your dinner. Both my body and my bank account, good figure…” She popped a hip, flicked her braid, The crowd lost it. And so did lando 

She rapped and sang effortlessly, snapping her fingers with the beat, hips rolling, eyes flicking toward the VIP section with a wink. Lando didn’t even try to play it cool — he was already clapping above his head, yelling something completely inaudible.

“I’m the typa girl that make you forget that you got a type— Typa make you love me when the only thing you’ve done is like…”

Fireworks exploded from the stage. A wall of smoke and pink lights flashed behind them. Fans were screaming, singing along, sobbing — all at once.

Carmen was yelling in pure joy, arm around Lily, both of them mimicking the choreo with near-perfect accuracy. Kika was recording on her phone with her other hand, spinning in a circle and shrieking. “THIS IS A WORKOUT,” Carmen yelled.

Lando had a big, goofy, lovesick smile smeared across his face like he’d just seen the divine.

As the song came to its end, each girl hit their final pose — She at the front, winking over her shoulder, her breath heavy but her grin wide. The crowd erupted. She flipped a lock of hair out of her face, panting slightly, and looked directly at the VIP row. Lando, still clapping like an idiot, smiled at her like she’d just invented the sun.

The stage turned dark.

Then—

A sharp flicker of neon pink and deep crimson, followed by a BOOM that echoed through the stadium like a detonation. The LED screens blazed alive—swirling diamonds, liquid fire, and smoke curling with menace. The bass dropped like a threat.

“BLACKPINK!”

The girls appeared like a storm.

Lisa emerged first, stalking across the stage in glittering chrome and black buckled boots. Her high ponytail whipped behind her like a weapon. She pointed at the crowd with a smirk, turned, and strutted—power incarnate.

Jennie followed, swathed in a sharp corset two-piece with long gloves and a mini-cape slicing the air behind her. Her eyes were locked forward, cold, confident, carved from pure fire.

Jisoo shimmered next, draped in deep blood-red, her slit dress revealing just enough to tease, chains dancing at her hip with each movement. She was elegance dipped in danger.

Rosé flowed in like a melody—her glittery mesh set catching the lights like stardust, blonde waves bouncing, gaze playful. She winked at the crowd, a gentle promise of incoming chaos.

And finally, she emerged in a custom jet-black bodysuit with hot pink embroidery cutting down her sides, sharp cutouts at the waist, and thigh-high boots that owned the floor. Her long hair was down, slick and wild, and her eyes—those eyes—scanned the arena like she was hunting.

The crowd screamed so loud it shook the stadium.

“Hit you with that ddu-du ddu-du du,”

All five snapped into formation. The choreo was deadly — sharp angles, full control, like a weapon honed for war. Up in the VIP section, Lando’s jaw actually dropped. Carlos leaned over. “You okay?” Lando didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the stage, and more specifically. She moved like thunder and silk. The way her hips hit each beat, the whip of her hair, the sheer command—he wasn’t watching his girlfriend perform. He was watching a goddamn phenomenon. Then the second verse hit. Lights shifted. The bass curled low and heavy, seductive.

Lily leaned toward Lando, yelling over the music, “YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS ABOUT TO GO OFF!”

Lando turned, confused—until she stepped forward.

“I’m getting money by the hundreds. All my GQ’s spread like hummus. Bullshit for the birds that are coming. I’ma say that shit again — I’m the mail, I run it. Drop that like you got a hot track, so you wanna knock that, got another banger. Real talk, I’ma let the Os talk. You can see the billions, better call a banker.”

The way she hit her lines faster than the backtrack — every word dripping with venom and velvet — had even the security guards vibing. She shot a quick smirk to the VIP section mid-verse, eyes finding Lando.

Lando forgot how to breathe. Carlos swore under his breath. “Mate,” Carlos muttered, “I think you just blacked out.”

When the song ended, they struck their final pose — five icons, backlit in flame and glitter, breathless and proud.

People screaming, phones up, WAGs dancing like backup dancers, Carmen and Lily losing their minds, Kika shouting along like she was on stage herself. Fans sobbed, jumped, chanted. The floor shook.

He was still staring at her. his hands mid-clap, lips parted in awe. A man was completely ruined in real-time.

She flipped a lock of hair out of her face, chest heaving slightly as she turned her head toward him again. She knew. 

In that moment, there was no denying it: BLACKPINK had just obliterated the stage.

Then came the opening chords of “Tally.” The crowd roared in recognition — slower, sultrier, unapologetically defiant. Smoke curled across the stage floor. The lights dimmed into a moody violet haze, shifting to deep pinks and blues. The girls moved in closer, their silhouettes bold and sharp.

She stepped forward. Eyes locked on Lando. Her voice dropped smooth, velvet, and venom:

“I say F it when I feel it, ‘Cause no one’s keeping tally. I do what I want with who I like—”

She dragged her gaze across the crowd, then right back to Lando — holding it this time, firm and unblinking.

“I ain't gon' conceal it. While you talking all that shit, I’ll be gettin’ mine, gettin’ mine.”

She didn’t just sing the line. She delivered it like a dagger wrapped in silk, her mouth curling into a smirk, that wicked glint in her eye daring him to flinch. Lando’s breath hitched. For a moment, he forgot there were 50,000 people between them. It felt like she was singing to no one else.

Next to him, Carlos snorted. “She’s really letting you have it, bro.”

Lily was already filming him. “I need your reaction for the group chat,” she whispered, gleeful. She pivoted out of frame as Lisa slid forward, eyes cool, smile sharp.

“Don’t apologize for my behavior— If you’re offended, I don’t care.”

The crowd screamed the next line before she even hit it, thousands of voices yelling in sync, vibrating through the air like gospel. The girls weren’t just performing — they were testifying. As the track faded into its final echo, the beat of “Boombayah” dropped like a lightning bolt and chaos reigned. Lights strobed gold and fuchsia. Pyro exploded at the sides of the stage. A wild party anthem reborn — the ultimate encore.

BLACKPINK went off.

They danced with pure, uninhibited joy, hair whipping, outfits shimmering, owning the stage like queens at the end of a world tour. Backup dancers flooded in. Confetti blasted into the air. The jumbotron spun wild shots of the crowd losing their absolute minds.

She grabbed Jennie’s hand and twirled her with a laugh, then bumped hips with Rosé. Jisoo grinned as she leaned into Lisa, who hit a final freestyle pop move that made the dancers lose it. The energy was electric — all five of them glowing like they’d just stolen the sun.

Lando was grinning without realizing it, eyes glued to She the whole time. She was laughing, sweat shining on her brow, eyes alive. She looked… free.

Not the composed, mysterious icon the press usually showed — but a girl on fire, dancing with her sisters, with no care in the world except the moment she was in.

As the final chorus roared out —

“LET’S GO, LET’S GO” they struck their last pose. Fireworks detonated behind them in a rainbow of sparks. The crowd went feral. She bowed low, one arm sweeping with flair, then popped up with a wink to the crowd — and one last glance toward Lando. He clapped slowly, arms crossed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“She told you,” Carlos said, nudging him.

“She performed it at me,” Lando muttered, lips twitching. 

Lily was still filming. “How do you feel about being the muse for BLACKPINK’s soft diss track era?”

Lando said, grinning now. “Turned on and in shock.”

“You looked like you were about to propose mid-verse,” Carlos teased. Lando rubbed a hand over his face, watching her on the jumbotron as she waved to fans and blew kisses. His chest felt tight with something he couldn’t explain — pride, awe, a little bit of fear. That woman on stage? She was a force of nature. And she was his.

As BLACKPINK made their final waves and bowed one last time, the lights dimmed, the confetti still raining, and the crowd chanted their names like a prayer. Lando didn’t move until they were fully off stage and even then, he was still staring, heart hammering.

BACKSTAGE – MOMENTS AFTER THE SHOW

The moment BLACKPINK disappeared behind the curtain, the chaos flipped — stage thunder swapped for backstage electricity.

Hair stylists ran forward with towels and water bottles, managers called out instructions, and camera crews scrambled to capture the afterglow. But the girls? They were buzzing. Sweaty, glowing, laughing — still riding the high.

She tore off her mic pack, tossing her hair back as Lisa grabbed her by the waist and spun her in a half-circle.

“We ATE,” Lisa shrieked and jumped up and down.

“Obliterated.” Rosé was breathless, hugging Jisoo as they both burst into giggles.

The dressing room doors flew open.

“THAT WAS INSANE,” Kika yelled first, practically charging in with Lily right behind him.

Rosé was mid-sip of coconut water when she froze, eyes lighting up. “Wait— are those the drivers?!” Jennie turned first, arms up like a champ. “Where’s my trophy?!?”

“Yo!” Lisa spun around in her chair, glowing with post-show adrenaline, and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Charles. “You’re the Ferrari guy. I watched Drive to Survive.” Alex laughed. 

Charles did a dramatic little bow. “And you’re Lisa. I watched you end lives on stage just now.”

It was a collision of worlds, and it was glorious.

Jennie, regal even with a towel over her shoulders, raised an eyebrow and looked up at George. “Which team are you?”

“Mercedes,” he said smoothly, offering a hand. “Big fan. Huge.”

Jisoo giggled, “You guys all look like you came from a Bond movie.”

“Right back at you,” Pierre murmured, half in awe, half definitely already crushing.

Lisa, eyeing Carlos, tilted her head. “And you’re the funny one.”

“I knew she’d like me,” Carlos whispered behind his hand to Lando.

Meanwhile, she was slipping out from a side corridor, fresh from a quick change into loose black sweatpants, a cropped tee, and her hair still damp at the ends. She hadn’t even seen Lando yet—until she turned the corner and froze. He was already watching her. She looked tired but alive, radiant in that post-performance glow. Their eyes locked. 

For a moment, everything else blurred. Shewalked up, quiet, smiling. Lando didn’t say anything. He just opened his arms and she walked right in. 

No words needed — he wrapped his arms around her, tucked his face into her neck, and breathed. She smelled like vanilla, sweat, and stage fog. She was laughing softly against his collar. “I destroyed you a little bit out there,” she murmured.

He pulled back just enough to grin at her. “Yeah. But like, in a hot way.”

She rolled her eyes, kissed the corner of his mouth. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“You’re my favorite member.”

“You’re just saying that because I looked straight at you during Tally.”

“You gutted me during Tally.”

They laughed, and just like that, the storm of cameras and cheers and chaos faded around them.

LATER – POST-CONCERT DINNER

A private restaurant in downtown Paris.

The kind of place tucked between cobblestone alleys and centuries-old shutters — where the windows glowed gold, the wine list had no prices, and the laughter could be heard from the street.

They’d taken over the back room, of course — one long wooden table under warm hanging lights, plates of charred bread and creamy burrata, glasses filled with deep red wine and sparkling water. The afterglow of the concert still hung in the air like perfume. Makeup a little smudged, heels half-kicked off, voices soft and easy now.

BLACKPINK x F1. It felt surreal, like a crossover episode no one saw coming.

Lisa was mid-rant, waving her fork like a conductor. “Okay, but LA traffic is not just bad. It’s psychotic. I had one guy try to side-eye merge through me—”

George held up a calming hand. “Alright. Clearly, you need proper driving lessons.” Lisa narrowed her eyes. “Are you offering? On a track?”

“You know what?” George shrugged with a grin. “Yeah. I am.” Lisa leaned back, smirking. “Bet.”

Jennie, in a silky black dress and an oversized blazer that somehow made her look even more intimidatingly cool, was leaned in close to Lily, snorting with laughter as they compared their most ridiculous airport looks. “No, no, wait,” Jennie said between giggles, scrolling through her camera roll. “This one. It was 5 AM and I wore pajama pants with heels. The customs guy looked like he wanted to cry.”

“Iconic,” Lily grinned, stealing a fry from Oscar’s plate.

Rosé and Charles were at the end of the table, completely absorbed in a heated debate over sad girl anthems.

“Phoebe Bridgers,” Rosé said, swirling her wine.

“Lana Del Rey,” Charles argued. “Pure emotional devastation.”

“She’s depression in a dress, sure,” Rosé conceded, “but Phoebe is like a heartbreak stabbing you slowly with a glittery spoon.”

Carlos stood up suddenly, half-drunk on red wine and vibes. He raised his glass with a flourish.

“To BLACKPINK — legends, icons, heartbreakers." he turned dramatically toward the middle of the table, "Thank you for making our dear Lando spiral in real time on camera." He motioned to her.

The table erupted. Kika almost spit up her drink. Pierre nearly choked. Lisa was pounding the table in laughter.

Lando just launched a cloth napkin at Carlos’ head. She just smiled, glowing, cheeks flushed with warmth and wine. She leaned back in her chair, elbow resting lightly on Lando’s. “He’ll recover,” she said airily, taking a slow sip of her wine, “eventually.”

Lando leaned closer, voice low just for her. “Barely.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, eyes dancing. “Still not over Seoul City, huh?”

“You aimed that whole verse at me, don’t even lie.” She smirked. “I’m not even mad about it.”

“I know,” she said softly, gaze drifting down to his lips for half a second. “That’s why it worked.”

Their knees brushed under the table again. Neither of them moved away.

When the bill came, there was a brief, chaotic moment where the girls protested, reaching for clutches and tapping phones. But the drivers were already ten steps ahead.

Pierre and Kika took care of Jisoo, who tried to argue once before Kika waved her off with a, “Don’t even try, babe.”

Carlos and Rebecca cover Lisa, who raised a brow. “Look at you, all gentleman-y.”

Charles and Alex handled Jennie’s, despite her muttering something about “highway robbery” for a round of oysters.

George and Carmen waved Rosé’s card away, George bowing dramatically. “Artists should be spoiled. It’s in the Geneva Convention.”

Lando picked up the bill, card already in the folder, before she noticed.

She turned toward him, brows raised. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said, voice low and sincere.  She laughed under her breath, nudging his knee again. “I love you”

“I love you, too” he said, eyes soft now, his hand brushing hers under the table — a touch so quiet no one else noticed and in the low hum of the room — wine buzzed and heart-light — She looked at him like she finally saw it. This boy, who always laughed the loudest and looked like sunshine, was also the one who looked at her like she hung the stars. 

Paris after midnight was made for secrets and softness.

The streets had emptied, the night warm with the kind of breeze that lifted curls and carried perfume. They walked side by side, just the two of them now, drifting slowly through the city like they had nowhere else to be.

He held her hand — not tight, not possessive. Just a gentle, open-threaded kind of touch. Like he was afraid if he let go, the moment would disappear. She didn’t pull away. They turned a corner near the Seine, the river glittering like spilled starlight beneath the bridges.

“You were something else tonight,” Lando said, voice quiet. “Completely irresistible”

She smiled slowly, cheeks flushed, eyes warm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only about you,” he murmured.

They stopped at the edge of the bridge, the kind with cast iron rails and lovers’ locks from years past. Paris spread out before them like a painting. The air was sweet with lilacs from a nearby florist’s cart, abandoned now for the night. His hand rested lightly on her waist. The city hummed around them, but it felt like they were wrapped in something quieter — something just for them.

She leaned in slowly, the space between them collapsing like it was always meant to. Her lips brushed his — barely at first. A whisper of a kiss, then deeper, warmer. His hand slid up to cradle her jaw, the kiss slow, reverent. There was no rush. No need to perform. Just the quiet, aching honesty of two people choosing each other.

When they pulled back, her eyes were glassy with starlight.

“Wanna head back to the hotel?” he asked, voice thick with something he didn’t have a name for yet. She nodded, her fingers finding his again. Under the watchful moon, with the cobblestones clicking beneath their steps, they walked — slow and tangled, not quite ready to let the night go. It wasn’t just Paris that was beautiful. It was them — in the softest version of forever, unfolding one heartbeat at a time.

They had just stepped into their hotel suite, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft thud. Lando’s jacket was off and tossed on the back of a chair. She was already reaching up to untwist her hair, letting it fall like silk down her back. Neither said a word at first. There was no rush. No need to fill the quiet. Not after tonight.

Lando just leaned against the wall for a second, watching her. The makeup was smudged at the corners of her eyes now, her lips a little faded, and she was still the most electric thing he’d ever seen. The echo of her voice — her presence — still vibrated somewhere inside him.

“You okay?” she asked softly, catching his gaze.

He let out a slow breath, as if finally exhaling everything he’d held in since the first second she stepped on that stage.

“No,” he said honestly. “You wrecked me.”

She smiled, walking over and setting her shoes by the door. “Lando—”

“You don’t get it,” he cut in, pushing off the wall. “I’ve seen you angry. I’ve seen you tired. I’ve seen you in sweats at home.. I’ve seen you fight for what you want, disappear when things get too loud, light up when you're in your element…” He stepped closer. “But I’ve never seen you like that. On stage. You were—” he shook his head, almost frustrated. “You were magic.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected that. Not all of it. He gently took her hand and laced their fingers together. “Come here,” he said, voice low, pulling her toward the balcony.

Outside, the air was cool, a light breeze fluttering the sheer curtains. The city sparkled like it was wearing diamonds. The streets had quieted now, and it felt like they were floating above the world.

She leaned on the railing, arms crossed gently, and Lando came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. They stood like that for a while — skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat — the kind of silence that felt full rather than empty. She turned her head just slightly, and their cheeks brushed.

“You know,” she whispered, “I was nervous.”

Lando’s arms tightened a little around her. “Why?”

“It was your first time seeing me like that. On stage. I didn’t want you to feel like I was… someone else.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You weren’t someone else,” he said, quiet but certain. “You were more of you. All the fire and steel and softness. I just… got to see all of it at once.” She blinked slowly, heart suddenly thudding in a new way.

“You talk like you’re in love with me,” she murmured.

“I am,” he said, no hesitation. “Kinda feel like I have been for a while.”

She turned fully now, her hands resting gently on his chest, his thumbs brushing soft circles against her waist.

There was no dramatic music. No fireworks. Just the city, and their breath, and the way he looked at her like she was it. The whole answer.

“Lando…” she started, but he kissed her before she could finish — slow, tender, like a secret passed between them. When they finally pulled back, her hands still tangled in the fabric of his shirt, she smiled softly.

“I think I’m in love with you too.”

He rested his forehead against hers, laughing under his breath, full of disbelief and something deeper. “You think?”

She grinned, lips brushing his. “Pretty sure. Might need another kiss to confirm.”so he kissed her again — longer this time, hands cradling her face like she was something holy.

They didn’t go back inside for a while. Just stayed there, wrapped in each other, the city below and stars above, suspended in the quiet that only love can hold.

Lando just made a post

@/Lando

❤️ 3.9M 💬 25.1k ➤ 394k

Lando First time seeing her on stage. Might've fallen harder than I already was. still trying to recover

Comments:

@/charles_leclerc bro we told you not to fall in love with a pop star 😭 good luck

@/Landohitsdiff she looked at you ONCE during “Tally” and you handed over your soul AND your credit card

@/jennierubyjane 👀😎

@/lisafromthetrack "still trying to recover" and she hasn't even posted HER pics yet. Rookie mistake

@/BLACKPINKgoesvroom she bobied the stage, bodied you, and still looked good going it 💅 icon

@/(y/n)updates he's whipped. we won

@/formulaladsdaily it's giving "she steps on me and I say thank you" we support it

@/User 1 not this F1 man turning into a groupie 💀 sit down lando

@/landoismyhusbandlol you know what? I ship it. painfully. aggressively. With my whole chest.

@/georgerussell63 Still recovering? Mate, you haven’t spoken in full sentences since her second verse 💀

@/pinkgridcanon I’ve seen ships with less chemistry get full novels. WHERE IS OUR FANFIC 👀

@/thegridshipper I was here for pole positions, now I’m here for soul positions. They’re ENDGAME.

@/Landofangirl444 she's mid, y'all just like her cause she's dating him. no stage presence, just snarky attitude

@/randomrbrfan69 another driver distracted by a pop girl 🙄 focus on the car maybe?

@/mimisleftboot she stomped in those thigh-highs and we all felt it. lando included 😌

@/jisooforpresident he’s living every fanfic writer’s dream and I’m just here eating cereal

@/Rosescreens nah but you looked in love. like…eye-twitching, stomach-flipping love.

@/landoisours we lost him to the sparkle boots and villain eyeliner 💔

--------------

Hope y'all enjoyed, now I can sleep stress free 😭💕

[loovser]

the guy she was interested in wasn’t a guy at all - chapter 4

synopsis turns out the cute guy from the cd store is actually… a girl

wc: 3,3k

cw: feelings all over the place, love you jesse and dina, ellie’s trying hard… my pookie. mentions of weed, cursing, lila is now kinda cool, angst, fluff and oh my god the ending just made me crazy and dizzy aaaand don’t kill me.

ellie fucked up. she knows that, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. for what it’s worth, it hurts even more to know that she put you through all of this. it was wrong from the start. a misunderstanding that she should have solved as soon as it came to her knowledge.

but how could she? when all she thought about was you. how everything felt so easy with you. for once in her life, someone was really seeing her — and it was you. she wanted that. desperately.

she was selfish. but the way you flooded her with so many feelings — it overflowed. and you got swept away in it, too.

it’s been a whole day. she hasn’t seen you around campus. not even in your classes — don’t ask her how she memorized those. but she wasn’t sure if she should look for you. well, she knows she should give you some space. but still, she already craves seeing you. she misses you, misses talking to you.

her mind is stuck on the way she touched your face. the way you were so close to her. how you looked at her. she messed it all up. and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. the solution she came up with — staying in her dorm all day — isn’t really working. it was just making it worse. she wants to go home to joel, but he is out of town. she knows that, if she calls him, he will go back instantly. that’s why she doesn’t. suck it up, ellie.

she tried calling you when you left. no answer. she tried contacting you, it hurt to see your old conversations. she wonders how it feels for you. probably worse. it confirms her suspicions when you leave her on read — every message she sends is totally ignored, just like the ones she’s sending right now.

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) talk to me… im really sorry

ellie Do Not Answer (2:54) i miss you

no answer. you lock the screen, fighting back the tears. you’ve already cried too much over this. it feels so… embarrassing. you feel so dumb. how could you not recognize her? the way she sounds, the way she moves. it’s all so… ellie. you should’ve known better. but at the same time, how could you doubt anything about her when you connected so deeply in such a short time.

when you found out, you were so hurt. you felt betrayed. it pained you deeply, how you felt like you were being played. how she was making a fool out of you. did she laugh about this to her friends? did she think you are stupid, just as you feel? was it a dare? some kind of twisted joke? one of those bet things from crappy rom-coms?

deep down, you know that she must have had a reason for it. if she’s really anything like she was showing to you, there’s no way she did that because she was trying to hurt you. it’s so confusing how your thoughts oscillate between thinking about her feelings and reasons or just sticking to yours. like you are on a damn seesaw, feelings tossed up and down, again and again.

you missed all your classes today. your friends were texting you like crazy. leah even mentions ellie — as the quiet girl who sits next to you during VFX classes. saying something about how she went to all of your classes, looking for something and how she finds it weird. you snort. she’s such a loser.

and you are crying again. because, even if you try not to, you miss her too. you miss talking to her about songs, about you and about her. just… about everything. you weren’t even talking for that long, but you already knew so much about each other. except her real identity. the damn seesaw.

what are you supposed to believe? was she being herself around you all the time? even during texts? she did mention her roomie was a bitch when you thought she was miller and it turned out to be true. she also told you that she didn’t go to college, which she does. sharing fucking classes with me, yeah — surprise. i get it now.

it is too much. even more when you think about having to see her again. you have a fucking project to finish together, or you will fail the class. you can’t fail it. even if you want to change your partner now, you’ll have to talk to her at some point.

which is bothering her too. a lot. but not for the same reason as it’s bothering you. she definitely wants to work on it with you, but she gotta make things right first. somehow… there has to be a way you can forgive her. even if you don’t want to be friends — or whatever it is that you were — with her anymore. at the very least, she just… really wants to finish this project with you.

she opens her spotify, to check the playlist you made her and- oh my fucking god.

it’s gone. deleted. as in: doesn’t exist anymore. she feels like crying, again.

she needs to do something to fix it. anything. whatever it takes.

meanwhile, all you want is to rot in bed all day. or even better, all week. it’s funny how someone you’ve known for less than a month can have such a huge impact on you. well, at least talked to for less than a month. because really, she’s been around for a while. and it’s not like you haven’t noticed her before. you just haven’t really seen her and you wish you had before all of this happened. things could be different, no lies to hurt you in the process.

but it didn’t happen. and still, your heart flutters when you remember the moments you shared together. the way her calloused fingers felt so soft on your cheek. how her green eyes sometimes flicker with this hazel shadow when the sun peeks through the cd store’s window.

how you would do anything to see her flushed cheeks underneath her face mask while she flirted with you. or how pretty she must have looked when you could hear the smirk in her voice. somehow it makes you feel relieved that miller and ellie are actually one. the same. how all your worries were never really a problem because you were not confused between two people. in reality you were falling for the same one, all sides of her. of ellie.

you unfollowed her on instagram and deleted the playlist you made her earlier and you kind of regret it now. even if you never felt anything close to what you feel about her, you always had in mind that it is never a waste to feel. whatever it is that you are feeling, just feel it. but it’s hard when you don’t even know what you are feeling. you are sad, disappointed, embarrassed. but you are also relieved — and missing her.

gladly, a knock on your door gives your tortured brain some rest. you sigh, not really knowing what to expect when you make your way to open it. when you see jesse and dina there you can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. maybe you should just answer her and actually talk about it like grown-ups do.

“what the fuck..” you murmur, curiosity getting the best of you. they are her friends after all.

“hello to you, too.” jesse chuckles and dina elbows him slightly, flashing you a sheepish smile.

“we have a delivery for you!” she adds, taking a little zipbag full of weed from his jacket’s pocket.

“um… i don’t remember buying this”

“that’s cause you didn’t.” the guy deadpans.

“it’s a gift!” dina barges in. “from ellie.”

“oh…” it’s all you manage to say. of course it’s from ellie. is she really trying to buy me with weed right now?

you blink, staring at the bag. they stare back at you, waiting for your reaction. you sigh as the silence stretches just enough for it to get awkward, grabbing it from her hand gently. taking it to your nose, you don’t even need to make an effort to sniff it. this is not your usual. it’s the more expensive one. some really high quality shit.

“wow. she put some effort into it, didn’t she?” you bite back a smile.

“yup. made her pay full price because of the bullshit she pulled-“ dina smacks his arm to stop him from talking any further, earning a loud ‘ouch!’ from him.

“can’t really pass free weed now” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant, but by the way they smile you know they can see right through you.

“i guess you can’t” she chuckles. “what you can do, tho it’s showing up to the college’s rooftop tonight.”

“that would be great, yes, dina. great idea! like, you could just go up there at 8 p.m. sharp.” jesse adds and you can’t help but laugh at how they are really doing this right now.

“you’re good friends, y’know? i’ll think about it.”

“okay, yeah… keep playing it hard to get like we don’t know you will be there… can’t fool us!” he jokes, pulling dina together with him so they can leave your apartment’s door.

leaving you there, the damn gift weighing heavy in your hand — and on your heart. how much money did she actually spend with that? it makes you feel bad, somehow. you know she hurt you and you know she knows it too. your heart clenches at the thought that she must be suffering with this whole thing, too.

yet, she’s been reaching out to you, from the moment you left her dorm. she’s been trying to fix it, in some way. you never expected someone to care about you that much. your friends never did. even if you know she’s more than that. or was. it’s been a whole day and she is still doing what’s in her power to try fixing the mess she created. thinking about you, about things you like.

and all you can do is sigh because you know jesse is right. if you didn’t want to forgive her, not even a little, would you have accepted her gift? you know the answer to that.

thinking about what she could do to fix everything with you wasn’t easy at all. ellie had to literally sit down on her bed and write down a lot of ideas — 43 to be exact. and most of those were shit, like finishing the project all by herself so you wouldn’t have to do it.

where’s the fun in that? she would save you from seeing her again, yes. as she had in mind that you absolutely despised her at the moment, it would be a huge favor to you. but complete torture to her. and she still wanted you to like her again, so this idea had to go.

the atmosphere in her dorm was pretty shitty. she couldn’t hide the fact that she was crying to lila, which made the girl stare at her for, like, 50 minutes. non-stop. without saying a word, too. not that ellie was expecting her to, it was just… weird as fuck.

but then “what’s with all this crying today? you are freaking me out”

the cinnamon-haired girl looked up at her, furrowed brows and face drenched in tears. “you are such a comforting presence. fucking hell”

and lila giggled. like it really amused her. this fucking girl… “sorry. it’s just that i’ve never seen you cry in my whole life. does this have anything to do with that girl that was here yesterday?”

as ellie cries harder at the mention of you, her roomie nods, understanding. “right, so what happened? if you want to talk about it.”

honestly? ellie did. and she is glad that they talked because, after calling her a dumbass and many other things, lila actually gave her good advice. which helped her think about the two ideas she hoped would work because she couldn’t afford to actually lose you.

after a few hours, the first step was done and she couldn’t stop smiling and feeling the little feeling that was now blossoming on her chest: hope. after reading jesse’s text, telling her you accepted her gift.

which explains why she is now kicking her feet on the bed, giggling and ignoring how much of a fool she must be looking.

lila raises an eyebrow at the sudden happiness, contrasting to the conversation they had earlier. “whatever it is you are doing, never do it again.”

she rolls her eyes, still smiling “she accepted the weed!”

“who the fuck would deny free weed? anyway, i’m out again. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do.” she shoots a smirk in ellie’s direction — teasing, but there’s something in it that makes ellie want to vanish into her bedsheets.

you’ve already tried all the clothes in your fucking closet and nothing seems good enough. you hate this feeling of having to go somewhere you don’t know what to expect or what to wear to. you don’t want to overdress! or underdress! dina and jesse could have hinted you what to wear.

sighing, you wondered if ellie was going through this too — yes, in fact she changed her clothes four times before her friends dragged her out of her bedroom or she would be late. you just couldn’t stop thinking about her. like you’ve been doing all day. and all week.

yes, you are, indeed, still very sad and embarrassed. but a lot of other feelings are there too, making sure you can feel all of them at once. how thoughtful. the human mind is so great.

finally, you settle with an outfit that you like and feel comfortable in, too tired to keep overthinking everything. today was… draining. you just hope whatever it is that waits for you in the rooftop doesn’t make things worse. but something tells you it won’t.

as you leave your apartment, the cold breeze makes you shiver slightly. winter is almost coming, which makes you happy. you love everything about it, snow, the holidays, hot chocolate with marshmallows, boots, beanies. it’s just a very cozy season to you.

the way towards college is soothing, even if your heart drums in your ears loudly in anticipation. you really hope you can see ellie soon, even if you are afraid to do so. you live near the campus, so it doesn’t take too long until you are quickly climbing the stairs, aiming for the main building rooftop.

what you do realize is that the building is way more packed than it should be. as you reach the 4th floor, your eyes catch this big poster that you seemed to ignore before. you had to double check to know if you were seeing it right. the words ‘talent show’ written on it in big, bold letters. what the actual fuck.

you had totally forgotten that this was tonight. that’s because you didn’t really pay attention to these things, normally. and you don’t see why ellie would, either.

she’s nervously bouncing her knee as she seats on the parapet next to the stage. well, it is a small one, really. built exclusively for this event. she didn’t know that so many people would be there when she submitted her name last-minute. but now it’s too late to back off.

and when she sees you arriving the rooftop, searching for her, she knows she did the right thing. you don’t look at her right away. but then you do. and she’s already with her eyes locked on you, a soft smile on her lips. ellie couldn’t be more relieved to see that you actually came. that you are there, staring at her and she almost giggles when you bite back a smile. oh, you think you are so smooth.

you clear your throat. you are sad and mad and disappointed! act like it, damn. but it’s hard when you see those green eyes you like so much. you find a seat, one that is close to the cute stage. you wait for her to come and sit down next to you, furrowing your brows when you see her grabbing her guitar — which you haven’t noticed before, too lost on her pretty features — and walking to the stage. no fucking way.

there’s something else you notice now that you let your eyes roam through her figure. she’s wearing a deftones t-shirt, short sleeved. her tattoo on display. some grey loose jeans and all-stars. just like she would dress if she was at one of her shifts on firefly. but she’s not wearing a face mask and her mullet is down.

it’s her. really her, not hiding, not trying to go unnoticed. it’s like she’s telling you that she won’t be someone she’s not anymore. she’s being herself, not college ellie, not miller. just ellie williams.

your heart nearly stops. she’s all you can see, like there is just you and her there. you don’t even pay attention as someone introduces her as the first one to perform. you miss how the boy says that she actually asked to be the first one. she wanted to be there when you arrived at 8 o’clock.

and she is. sitting down at the center of the stage, her gaze never leaving yours. that you don’t miss. not even the tiniest moves she makes, you catch them all. your attention is solely on her, just like she craved it to be. it’s overwhelming. all ellie wants to do is close the distance between you. but she takes a deep breath, striking the first chords as she starts singing.

“talking away. i don’t know what i’m to say, i’ll say it anyway.”

it takes your breath away. her voice is so beautiful. you always thought so. how it would send shivers down your spine every time she talked. but hearing her sing? a whole other level.

“today’s another day to find you. shying away… i’ll be coming for your love, okay”

everything else have turned into white noise. it’s just you and her. she is not just singing to you, she is singing about you. you sit there, hands clutching the hem of your jacket, feeling your chest tighten with every word.

you don’t know what it is. maybe it’s the fact that she keeps looking directly at you the whole time. or how the lyrics sound so genuine coming out of her lips and carving your heart deeply. permanently. or if it’s how pretty she looks in the dim lights of the rooftop.

you just know that, in that moment, any doubts you could ever had about her are long gone. buried, forgiven.

because no one has ever made you feel so special and so cherished before. not like she’s doing right now.

the way you smile at her and the way you look at her are enough for her to keep singing ‘take on me’ by a-ha without any struggles. it’s coming from the bottom of her heart and all she feels in this moment is you. all her eyes can see is you. all her heart craves for is you. it’s always been you.

and it’s always been her. no matter what came with it, a boy’s name or her discreet persona in class. it was her all along.

she is the one you’ve fallen for.

posted earlier cause you asked here you go!! so… next chapter is also the last one. tell me what you are thinking i love to read your comments!

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thank you for the support babies, hope you enjoy it!

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[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: a power outage, Jungkook being a menace as per always, getting stood up for Valentine's Day, falling on a patch of ice, alcohol, curses, peach, OC gets a little jealous, explicit content: teasing?, dom!Jungkook, big dick!Jungkook, sex toy (vibrator), male and female masturbation, praising, cum play (don't be stupid), fingering

☆word count: 13.2k

☆a/n: this is like one of my fav chapters in this whole series, and also the one inspired by jungkook's iconic live with the candle and the white dress shirt and oof :') hope you enjoy it!! Thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, February 14th 

Sometimes, the universe aligns to create such a shitty day that you think your life is a joke. A cruel joke, and you’re just the sitcom character that people use to make themselves feel better.

Today has been one of those days. You woke up late, somehow not hearing your alarm, and got to your midterm so late you didn’t have time to finish. At least you were confident in the answers that you did write down, so you think there’s a chance you’ll still pass. 

Then, you forgot your student ID, and the lady at the cafeteria refused to let you eat even though she’s seen you almost every day of the semester so far. Nabi offered you some of her salad, but you felt bad and barely ate.

Then the rain started – freezing rain at that – and you had to run to the other building for your genetics class, ending with your hair half frozen and the knowledge that you’re going to get sick by tomorrow.

Genetics class in and of itself is fine. Your stomach gurgling all through the class isn’t, and you’ve noticed people looking at you where you’re sitting, every time your stomach thinks it’s a whale and it needs to sing to its fellow mates.

During break, someone offers you a protein bar, and you take it with cheeks burning, thanking them profusely. Though you hate the taste of protein bars, and you struggle to finish it without puking on the desk. You power through, and then the class resumes, and you try to focus. It’s hard, and when you receive a text from Hoseok, you stop pretending that you’re listening.

[2:47 pm] Hobi: have u seen the weather outside? [2:47 pm] You: yeah it’s trash. I think I’m still half frozen [2:49 pm] Hobi: don’t have power at my place anymore [2:50 pm] Hobi: and it looks dangerous to drive

You know exactly what’s coming. It shouldn’t even come as a surprise – you don’t know why you agreed to meet up on Valentine’s Day. Yet, you’ve been looking forward to it all day, perhaps because it’s been so shit even hanging out with Hoseok on this day of celebration of love seemed better.

[2:50 pm] Hobi: any chance I can get a raincheck?

You want to bash your head on the desk, and of course, the professor chooses this exact moment to call you out for being on your phone. You flush a deep red, mumbling an apology as you put your phone face down on the desk. Everyone’s looking at you, and from where you’re sitting at the back of the class you can see that half the people aren’t even taking notes. You think they’re full of shit for glaring at you, but you can’t help the way you turn crimson, and Nabi stifles a laugh next to you.

“Shut up,” you whisper through gritted teeth, elbowing her in the ribs. 

She shrugs innocently, and then her eyes slide back to the professor as he resumes the class. Not wanting to risk it, you focus too, and it seems the shame is what you need to finally concentrate because you find yourself typing away on the computer, describing the pictures in the PowerPoint slides so you can understand them later.

The lights go out five minutes before the end of the class. The projector shuts down in time, a clear indication that the college has run out of power too – something that rarely ever happens unless it’s the end of the world outside.

There’s a series of gasps, and the professor looks so jaded at the front of the class that you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made of the actual precious stone. He looks towards the door, where you can see that the light has also gone out in the hallway.

Without even a glance at the class, he slams his laptop shut, heaving out a sigh.

“Class dismissed for today, we don’t have enough time left to wait for the power to come back on.” 

It doesn’t even take half a second before everyone is starting to put their stuff away, the class suddenly overcome with a cacophony of sounds, and Nabi turns to you.

“Who were you texting during class?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Shut up.” You put your laptop in your bag, chugging the rest of your water bottle before you stuff it next to the laptop. “Hobi cancelled on me.”

Of course the whole friend group now knows about you two. You have Hoseok to blame for that, and his incredibly good idea to have sex at a party last week, where Yoongi walked in on the two of you. You’ve never seen Yoongi look more uncomfortable before in your life and, to your surprise, he’s been teased about the situation a lot more than you or Hoseok. It’s still a relief because you were afraid the friend group would go to shit if people knew, but now it seems it’s only solidified it even more.

“Bruh,” Nabi lets out. “Why?”

You motion to the dead neon lights over your heads. “The weather. He doesn’t have power anymore.”

“Shit.” You finish packing your stuff and you’re walking out of the class when she continues, “That’s wild though, didn’t think the freezing rain would hit that bad.”

A girl in front of you turns as if summoned. “They’re saying it’s going to be the worst storm of the century.” She points her phone towards you and Nabi, screen first. “Look, tons of trees have already fallen.”

Your eyes widen, because indeed she’s showing a picture from a group chat, of a tree having fallen on someone’s poor car. You wince in time with Nabi.

“RIP to whoever’s car that is,” you answer.

The girl nods, a wistful expression taking over her features. “That would be my boyfriend’s.”

You don’t talk more after that, and she jogs to join her friends closer to the stairs. You take that as an opportunity to finally reply to Hoseok, grabbing your phone out of the pocket of your coat.

[3:59 pm] You: power even went out in college so yeah, np!

Hoseok is quicker to reply than you’ve expected, saying that he’d like to meet up some time this weekend if you can. You don’t promise him anything, though you don’t really have plans as of right now.

You’ve just got a feeling that, if the storm is going to be the storm of the century, you won’t be hanging out for at least a few days. And the moment you step outside, you realize that it might even take more than a few days.

Trees have fallen everywhere. The sidewalk is entirely iced, and just by the time you’ve made it to the bus stop in front of the building, you’ve seen a car accident, both cars unable to stop at a stop sign. You figure taking the bus would be dangerous right now, and you settle on aiming for the pedestrian trail that leads to a park near your apartment, while Nabi parts to head towards the dorm, where apparently the power is still on. She tells you to let her know if you have power at home, and then you turn to head towards home, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

At least it’s not raining heavily as you walk. It’s the only positive thing in your day, and you hold onto your phone, sending a text to Taehyung to inform him of the situation.

You’re two minutes from home when you slip on a slab of ice, and you fall in a puddle of mud that stains your pale pants. You don’t even know how there can be mud when everything else is frozen, but of course, you had to fall in it. You assess yourself for a second, making sure nothing hurts too bad and then you mutter, “Of fucking course.”

You don’t even feel like getting up. If it wasn’t for the fact that the mud in which you’re sitting is freezing, you think you’d sit there until you died. You feel drained, and the weight of the day finally hits you head-on, bringing tears to your eyes.

Or maybe it’s just the embarrassment of walking home with your favourite pair of pants ruined. You don’t even know anymore; too much has happened in just a few hours for your brain to accept to be working anymore. You angrily blink the tears away, knowing you’ll break down the second you step inside your own home.

You can only hope that Jungkook is not going to be there. You hold onto that hope as you get to the building, and when you see the lights are out, the tears win against you. You carefully walk up the stairs – even they are covered in a thick sheet of ice – and surprisingly, you make it to the top unscathed.

You try to unlock the door with shaky fingers, struggling to find the hole through the blurriness of your tears, and you almost consider breaking the door down when it suddenly swings open in front of you.

“Peach?”

You’re aware that you’ve got fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You’re aware that you probably look a mess – you are a mess – but all you can do is stare at Jungkook.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, voice laced with concern as he steps aside to let you in.

You put your bag down, shrugging as he shuts the door behind him carefully, eyeing you as if you’re a specimen of a rare animal that’s going to run if he startles it. You refuse to meet his gaze, refuse to speak lest you embarrass yourself with crying even more. All you do is angrily wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” he says, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

You motion around. “What’s wrong?” You scoff, and out of spite, you force down the wave of tears that is threatening to meet the ones you’ve just dried on your cheeks. “Everything is fucking wrong.”

You glance at Jungkook, and he’s just watching, eyes widened. He seems startled by your outburst, and you think you see him gulp.

“Do you…” he trails off, glancing at the door. You only then realize that he’s clad in his winter coat, and he was probably on his way out when you arrived. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shake your head no, hating yourself for the way your bottom lip trembles. 

His hand is still on your shoulder, and it slowly slides to your arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asks.

He’s only then realized that you’re half-covered in mud.

“I fell on a patch of ice,” you answer.

He makes you turn, assessing the damage. “If you soak your pants in water, I can get the stain out.”

“There’s no power.”

He turns you back around, offering you a small smile as he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Astute.”

You want to punch him so bad, but what you do is laugh, which makes you think you’ve gone crazy.

“Water still runs, though,” he points out. “I’ll take care of it when the power comes back on. Doesn’t even need to be warm. You can save what’s left of the hot water for a shower if you want?”

He says it like a question, and you shrug your shoulders. A new tear rolls on your cheek, and to your surprise, Jungkook dries it with his thumb. He then points to your shoes.

“Take these off. You’re going to take a shower before the neighbours steal the water.”

“I don’t…” you trail off, as he’s just staring at you as if what you were going to say was going to be the stupidest shit he’s ever heard. As much as you want to hate him right now, the way his hand feels on your arm is making the anxiety lessen, until you realize that it’s going to be okay.

You can head to Ria and Nabi’s dorm right after a quick shower.

“M’kay,” you finally accept. “But you can go, you don’t have to stay.”

He shrugs, and when he lets go of your arm, you almost want to grab his hand and put it back there. “I was just going to charge my phone in my car. It can wait.”

You hold his gaze, feeling swallowed by his big doe eyes. It finishes drying the tears on your waterline, and you take a deep steadying breath. “M’kay,” you repeat.

At that he smirks, nodding his head once. He kicks off his shoes as you carefully take yours off, and then he makes grabby hands at you.

“What?” you ask.

“Your coat,” he answers. “I’ll put it in the closet for you.”

You slightly frown. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying to be nice?” When you remain silent, he chuckles. “You think I’m just going to let my best friend’s sister cry when she gets home?”

The words hurt, even though they’re just a statement of what you are to him. “You’re so random.”

He looks somehow offended. “Just give me your coat, peach.” He’s stern, and you have half a thought to mimic him, but you resist. When you hand him the coat, he offers you a grin. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

Once again you surprise yourself by laughing, and the grin on his lips softens in a way that makes you warm inside.

“You’re annoying,” you whine.

He shrugs as he opens the closet. “Just go take a quick shower. Make sure to soak the pants too.”

“Yes, mom.”

He chokes on a snort. “Oof, no, don’t call me mom.”

You stifle a laugh, but a smile tugs at the corner of your lips. He faces you again, and you startle as he pinches your cheek. You push him off, as all he does is offer you a wide grin that makes dimples appear on his cheeks.

You’ve never really seen those dimples before, not while he’s smiling. You have to force yourself to look away, and as entrancing as they are, you manage to have your gaze drop to a random spot on the floor. “Alright then, I’ll grab my stuff. You can charge your phone while I’m in the shower.”

“All good, I’m at 65%,” he says. “I just checked online, and the power outage will likely last through the night so… figured I didn’t have anything better to do.”

You purse your lips. “Oh.”

There’s an awkward silence before he motions to the bathroom. “Aren’t you going?”

Your cheeks burn, and you nod once before heading towards your room as he snorts behind you, evidently laughing at you. You ignore him, quickly grabbing a change of clothes and bringing them to the bathroom. Jungkook’s moved to the couch, and to your surprise you see him with a book in hand.

“You read?”

The question is out before you realize, and Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction.

“It’s for a class.”

You nod once. “Right.” You then scrape your throat, glance at the bathroom and then settle your eyes on him again. “I’ll be right back.”

He smiles at you, and it’s the last thing you see before you walk into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you. Luckily enough, it’s still light enough outside for you to be able to shower without being in the dark, and as Jungkook advertised, there’s still hot water.

You take the fastest shower of your life, not wanting to risk running out of hot water, and then you put your dirty pants in the sink, soaking them in cold water. You put your clean clothes on – nothing impressive, just a pair of black sweatpants with a white t-shirt. You take one look at yourself in the mirror – you look like you’ve gone through hell, but at least you’re refreshed. 

With a steadying breath, you walk out of the bathroom, and your eyes immediately find Jungkook where he’s still sitting on the couch, looking like he hasn’t moved an inch. He glances at you before resuming his attention on his book. You feel awkward, yet you still walk in his direction because, frankly, what else is there for you to do when there’s no power?

“What’s the book about?” you enquire.

He raises it for you to see as you sit next to him. He moves too fast, and all you can see is something about trickle-down economy before the book is back in his lap.

“Looks boring.”

He laughs. “It is. Plus, trickle-down economics is bullshit.”

You nod wisely, even though your knowledge in the economy and business field is little to zero. All you know is that trickle-down economics is what rich people use to defend their actions, which immediately makes it so you don’t trust it one bit.

Eat the rich and all that.

“Right,” you let out.

Jungkook throws you a glance. “Feeling better?”

You don’t know how to answer. Because, yes, you feel somehow better now that you are clean and warmed from the shower, but you’re still very aware that the power is out, you’ve likely failed a midterm, and your date was cancelled.

“Sort of,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders. “Today was just a shitshow.” 

He says nothing, but his big eyes on you entice you to open up to him, making you feel more at ease than you’ve ever been around him.

Maybe because you just need someone to vent to after all.

“Like… I woke up late this morning,” you tell him. “Arrived so late to my midterm that I couldn’t finish. Then realized that I forgot my wallet here and couldn’t eat lunch. Got stood up for a date tonight, and now no power here? This day has been the worst.”

You sit back on the couch after you’ve finished your tirade, and Jungkook just looks at you curiously. You don’t register you’ve called hanging out with Hoseok a date until Jungkook says, “You had a Valentine’s Day date?”

You shut your eyes, pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale loudly. “Sort of. Not really a date.”

“How can it not really be a date?”

You entirely miss the teasing in his voice, mostly because you’re appalled at yourself for the slipping. “It’s just… my friend with benefits, so not a date.”

“Damn, peach,” he says, and he bursts out laughing. You crack an eye open, your heart feeling like it’s been stabbed as Jungkook grins at you. “Didn’t think you were one to have a friend with benefits.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs, and his gaze slides away from you as his brows furrow slightly. “You’re Tae’s sister, and the way he talks about you I just… I don’t know.”

Annoyance creeps into you as you cock an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t listen to what Taehyung says about me. He still thinks I’m twelve.”

Jungkook snorts, and to your surprise, it makes you smile, right as he glances at you. 

“Are you not?”

“Yah!” You punch him in the shoulder, and he laughs as he massages the spot. “I’ll have you know I’m an adult.”

His features turn somber, and he plays with his piercing for a time before he answers. “I’m starting to realize it, trust me.”

In the somberness of his eyes, a spark ignites, and you feel as if electricity is running on every inch of your body. You wish it would run into the building instead, bringing the power back on but unfortunately, you’re the only victim, and all you can do is hold his gaze.

The moment stretches until you grow uncomfortable, and your eyes slide to the Switch under the TV, as if it’ll find solace there.

“Anyway,” you say, scraping your throat. “Apparently there’s still power at the dorms so I think I’ll head over there.”

“You’ll abandon me?” he says, faking offence. “Right when I offered to take care of your pants? The nerves on you.”

You roll your eyes as the awkwardness fades to be replaced by the annoyance Jungkook usually brings out of you. “You’re a big boy, you don’t need me.”

“You sure you want to walk all the way there though? What if you fall again?”

You push him as he smiles wickedly, satisfied that he’s annoyed you. “I hate you.”

“You know what you hate even more than me?”

Your brow creases in confusion. “What?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a smirk growing on his lips. “You’ll have to stay for me to answer.”

You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest. You gauge him, watch as his smirk only widens while you ponder staying here. And you don’t even know why you’re considering it in the first place. There’s just something about being able to talk to Jungkook like this, about being comfortable next to him that makes you want to stay.

“Name a single reason why I should stay,” you finally say.

His smirk turns victorious. “I’ll cook something for you.”

“The power is out,” you feel the need to remind him. 

He throws you a no-bullshit look. “Really, peach, you need to find a bit of creativity in your life.”

“What?”

“The stove doesn’t run on electricity, it runs on gas.”

You look up at the ceiling. “How was I supposed to know that, I barely ever cook.”

“I cook!” he bursts, waving the book around. You didn’t realize he was still holding it, and you laugh as the pages flutter around.  “And you usually steal my food, so just let me make something for you tonight.”

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze as he looks at you, faking annoyance. “What do you want to cook?”

“I have chicken that I need to cook tonight if I don’t want it to go bad,” he says. “I can make noodles with it.”

It takes you all but two seconds before you realize that there’s no way you’re going to leave when Jungkook is suggesting to cook for you. “Alright.”

“Yeah?” You nod, and Jungkook beams. “You won’t regret it.”

You laugh, slightly shaking your head as he puts the book away and gets up. He offers you his hand, the one with the tattoos on the back of it, and you furrow your brows. “What?”

“Go get changed,” he says, hand still extended between you. “I’ll give you a Valentine’s Day date, but you’re going to have to play the part too.”

Something stops in your chest – your heart, most likely – and you’re hit with the thought that this is a bad idea. That whatever Jungkook means by that is going to be the mistake of the century, yet you still find yourself accepting his extended hand.

He pulls you to your feet, and he doesn’t let go of your hand for a moment, big doe eyes widening slightly as he looks at you.

“You…” you trail off, scraping your throat as you look away from his eyes.

It’s all you can do not to get lost in his gaze. 

“I?” he presses, voice low.

“You should dress up too,” you mumble, cheeks burning. “So I’m not alone.”

He lets go of your hand, and your fingers twitch as it falls to your side. When his index finds your chin, you think your blood stops in your veins. He makes you tilt your head back, enough so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“I will.” His voice is grave, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your lips once as they part. “I’m going to make this worth it. You deserve it after such a shit day, don’t you?”

You gulp. “Yeah?”

He pats your cheek. “Yeah, you do.”

And then he’s walking away. You’re left standing there, heart racing in your chest, feeling so warm you think you’re about to catch fire. You watch him disappear into his room, and it’s only when he’s out of sight that you manage to move, making your way to your own room.

You shut the door behind you, resting against it as you take deep breaths to calm down. You’re not sure if it’s doing you any good, because this is Jungkook. Jungkook, with his tattoo sleeve and piercings, your older brother’s best friend. Your roommate, the man that’s been playing with you for weeks, for months, like you’re just some playdough. You think he’s doing it on purpose. He has to – he’s trying to make your life miserable because you’re Taehyung’s sister. You don’t see what else it could be. Because why the fuck would Jungkook act like this with you?

You’re not stupid enough to believe it isn’t your fault. Because you were there the night of The Incident, and you reckon things have changed with Jungkook since that night. 

You take a deep, steadying breath before pushing up from the door. No matter what it is that is making Jungkook act like this, you’re still curious to see what he’s preparing for you. Spending time with him like this, with no power and nothing else to do than talk…

Maybe it’s going to help you understand what’s happening in that thick skull of his. So you search for something to wear, something warm since the heating is also down. You settle on brown dress pants that you know make your ass look amazing, and you pair them with a pale beige wool turtleneck. You tuck the shirt in your pants, putting a belt on to make sure it stays in place, and then you take a good look at yourself in your standing mirror. Satisfied with your outfit, you make to move out of your room, but you stop with your hand halfway to the knob.

You can hear Jungkook humming in his room, a soft melody that’s making you think he’s taking a long time in there. Is he actually dressing up? It makes something terribly warm and soft settle in your chest, and you turn back around, grab your makeup pouch and head to your desk.

If this is a date, or whatever it is that Jungkook considers dates to be, you want to look good for it. So you put a little bit of makeup on, trusting your instinct to make it look great even though the light of your small mirror doesn’t turn on since there’s still no power. You hear Jungkook get out of his room before you’re done, and you hope he doesn’t decide to come here.

You doubt he would, but you somehow feel awkward as you’re getting ready. Because he’s your older brother’s best friend, because he’s a college fuckboy, because he’s been making you feel too many things lately – most of them you repress as if your life depends on it. And you think, your life does depend on it. Because nothing can happen between you and Jungkook; you wouldn’t do that to Taehyung. And mostly, you wouldn’t do that to Jungkook, because you know Taehyung would hate him if something did happen.

You sigh. It comes out shakily, a clear indication that you’re growing anxious, and you almost want to laugh at yourself. You want to tell yourself to get a grip, to just play along for things are bound to go back to normality when the power comes back. 

You only stop feeling anxious when Taehyung texts you, your phone lighting up where you’ve put it down on your desk.

[5:02 pm] bröther👽: jk texted me the same thing! Glad u won’t be alone tonight [5:02 pm] You: he’s gonna cook dinner [5:03 pm] bröther👽: lmao, jk doesn’t cook for girls, feel lucky

With that you realize that, indeed, you should feel lucky. Because Jungkook can be a friend, if not anything else. It’s reassuring, and you finish getting ready feeling lighter than you’ve felt all day, as if the hell that today was is all forgotten. 

You spray some perfume on the inside of your wrists, dabbing it on your neck before you finally declare yourself ready to head out of your room. You hope Jungkook won’t make fun of you – he’d be the kind of guy to make fun of you for this, you just know it – and you make your way to the kitchen, where you can hear him busying himself.

He’s brought his portable speaker out of his room. The one that also has a projector in it, and it shines northern lights on the walls and on the ceiling of the kitchen, giving it a cozy atmosphere. No music is playing as of right now, yet Jungkook is still humming, voice low yet melodious.

You rarely hear him sing, but anytime you do, you feel like your ears are blessed by an angel.

He reappears from where he was hidden in the fridge, and his mouth falls open as he catches sight of you. 

He’s wearing a white dress shirt. You think it’s made of linen – it doesn’t look particularly fancy. Yet the way he’s rolled it on his forearms is weirdly attractive, even though he’s only wearing grey sweatpants with it. It’s a look, a look you think only he can pull off. He’s taken the time to style his hair back, and he’s put on earrings you’ve only seen him wear a couple of times during parties.

He eyes you up and down, his doe eyes crinkling in appreciation. “You look good, peach.”

The compliment makes you blush, and you offer him a small smile. He echoes it right away, and he holds up a bottle of rosé that you bought two months ago and forgot all about since then.

“Wine?” you let out as you stop in front of him. You feel awkward because, obviously, it’s wine, but you still hold his gaze as he nods.

“It’s yours but…” He shrugs, glancing at the label. “I figured it’d work well with the chicken.”

You nod once. “Sure, we can drink it.”

It makes him happy. You can see it in the way he beams, and then he puts it down on the counter with the rest of the ingredients. When he moves, you catch a whiff of his cologne, and you feel your cheeks burn again. You glance outside – the rain has stopped, but grey clouds are still looming in the sky as the world slowly darkens. You wonder if they’ll go away some time tonight – without the light pollution, you reckon you’d be able to stargaze.

You end up helping Jungkook with the cooking, chopping some vegetables as he takes care of the meat. You’re not particularly hungry, so you take your time, talking about everything and nothing. Jungkook is good at this, you realize. He’s good at changing your mind, at making sure it doesn’t wander back to your midterm and to the rest of your shitty day. He makes you laugh, cracking stupid jokes whenever you do something, smirking at you when you roll your eyes.

Being with him like this also makes you understand why he’s Taehyung’s friend. He feels more natural this way, less fuckboy-ish, and it’s a side of him you’ve never really seen before.

You sit at the kitchen table, sharing a glass of the rosé wine while the food simmers on the stove. Jungkook’s put on an indie music playlist before you started cooking – something you teased him about. Who knew Jeon Jungkook likes indie music?

“How was Tae before college?” Jungkook asks all of a sudden when there’s a lull in the conversation. “He barely talks about high school.”

You know the exact reason why, and her name is Youna. Taehyung’s ex, his high school sweetheart. The one that moved to the other side of the country without ever once looking back.

“He was an idiot,” you answer, and Jungkook laughs. “No, seriously. He dated the same girl all through high school. Was convinced he was going to marry her.”

“That sounds on brand with Tae,” Jungkook says, nodding his head wisely. “He said that about every girl he’s dated in college, but most of them don’t last more than a few weeks.”

You wince. “Remember Hailey from last semester?”

She lasted about three weeks, but she spent most of those at the apartment. It was the only three weeks where Jungkook and you had talked more than just small talk – or his usual teasing. Mostly because you kept complaining about her, and Jungkook kept saying you were cute when you were mad.

Come to think of it, it still was teasing.

“Fuck, her voice,” Jungkook lets out, shaking his head. “I’m sure she was faking having such a high voice. I don’t know how Taehyung could deal with that.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and Jungkook smiles as he watches you. “I swear to God, I was about to kick Tae out of the apartment,” you say. “I’m glad she didn’t last.”

“Agreed.”

There’s another silence as the song switches on Jungkook’s speaker. You take a sip of wine, appreciating the taste, and Jungkook gets up to check the food on the stove. He comes back a moment later, sitting back next to you.

You think he’s closer. He feels closer, and the smell of his cologne fills your nose again. 

“You put on some cologne,” you state, and it startles you somehow. You weren’t expecting to say that and, clearly, Jungkook wasn’t expecting it either.

“Yeah.” He looks down at himself as if the cologne is visible on him. “Do you like it?”

You gulp. “Yeah, you smell good.”

He smirks, nodding his head. “You too, peach. I love the vanilla scent.”

You don’t know what to do with the compliment. You mutter a thank you before taking a large sip of wine, and Jungkook chuckles before following your lead.

“Do you think Tae and that girl in France will last?” you ask. “He still hasn’t told me who she is.”

Indeed, he’s remained evasive whenever you’ve asked. You stalked the people that are with him on the semester abroad, and you think two of the girls could be your brother’s type, but it’s hard to tell.

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out. He grabs his phone, resting his forearms on the table as he opens it. He goes on Instagram, and as it loads, he glances at you. “He’s told me. Let me show you.”

“What!” you exclaim. “How come he told you and not me?”

Jungkook chuckles. “No idea. But here.”

He shows you the girl’s profile, and you take his phone as you scroll through the pictures. To your surprise, she’s not one of the two girls you stalked. She looks shy, barely showing her face in her pictures, most of them being of nature anyway. Come to think of it, you do get a romantic vibe from her feed, and you reckon that would work well with Taehyung. 

You’re about to give Jungkook his phone back when it vibrates in your hand, a notification appearing at the top. 

[6:05 pm] Shelly 💦🍒: are u gonna be here soon?

It’s not your fault that you read it, and your gaze widens as you look up from the device. Jungkook hasn’t noticed, and he smiles at you, seemingly expectant.

“So?” he asks.

“You had a date tonight?”

His mouth falls open. He looks guilty, eyes widening and taking a sheepish expression. He remains silent, and you can almost see the cogs turning in his head as he thinks of what to answer.

You don’t know how to feel. You feel bad for the girl – Shelly – who’s clearly waiting for Jungkook somewhere. You feel bad that he chose to stay with you because you were upset, but mostly you feel strange that he’s doing all of this for you when there’s someone waiting for him. 

The emojis next to her name are enough of an explanation of what she is to Jungkook. Still, you feel increasingly uncomfortable, even more so as he says nothing.

“What the fuck, JK?”

“She’s no one,” he says when you get up. “Trust me, I’ve only hung out with her a couple of times.”

You laugh, and it’s somehow void of joy. “Why would I care?”

He looks at the glasses of wine, and then at the food on the stove. “I don’t know… because we’re…” He motions between you, and then at said glasses of wine and food. “I just forgot to tell her I wasn’t going to come over.”

It’s enough of a reminder that Jungkook, for all his current kindness, is a renowned college fuckboy. It reminds you of all the times you’ve heard him fuck – was Shelly one of the girls? You feel disgusted, and you walk out of the kitchen, not wanting to look at Jungkook right now.

“Peach,” he says as he follows you out in the darkness of the living room.

The living room is also strangely cold, and you shiver as you turn towards him. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “But why are you even reacting like this?”

You scoff. “I don’t know, Jungkook, you tell me.”

You can’t see his expression. But when he takes a step closer to you, you feel the heat of his body radiating in the space between you.

“Are you jealous?” he asks, and you hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” you say, and you scoff again. “I’m weirded out.”

“Because I was going to fuck someone tonight?” It’s his turn to scoff when you remain silent. “Weren’t you going to fuck that dude? Hoseok?”

You don’t know how he remembers Hoseok’s name, but he’s got a point. You wet your lips, tongue poking your cheek next. “Right.”

“Come on, peach, just come back in the kitchen,” he says. He grabs your hand, and your breath gets caught in your throat as he escorts you back to the chair where you were sitting. You begrudgingly follow, and when you’re seated he towers over you.

You tilt your head back. “What?”

He flicks your nose, and you dodge a second too late. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “I wasn’t jealous I was just weirded out.”

He smiles at you wickedly. “Of course, peach. Of course.”

He sounds so cocky you want to hate him, but all you can do is glare at the table. He pushes your wine glass towards you as he sits back next to you and you wordlessly take it to chug it.

“Now that that’s done,” he says once you’ve put it back on the table, “what do you think of Tae’s girl?”

You had all but forgotten why you were holding Jungkook’s phone in the first place. You recall her Instagram to the forefront of your mind, pursing your lips. 

“She looks chill,” you answer.

Jungkook pouts. “Just that?”

You shrug. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Well,” Jungkook starts. “For one I can’t believe she’s Tae’s type. She looks nothing like the girls he dated here. Like just think about Hailey?”

You just nod, because in truth you fully agree with him. 

“Her Instagram is a vibe though,” Jungkook continues. “Tae is big on vibes so… maybe it works?”

You nod once more, tilting your head to the side as you really think about it. Because frankly you’d like for Taehyung to find someone that lasts. As much as you know he’s been having fun in college, you know his happiness usually lies in a healthy relationship like the one he had with his ex. 

“Hopefully it does,” you finally say. “Tae deserves it.”

Jungkook looks at you, somber expression on his features as he plays with his piercing. It makes your heart cease in your chest, and you busy yourself with refilling the wine glasses as he remains silent.

“He does,” Jungkook eventually replies. “He actually really does.”

He sounds so serious you throw him a questioning glance. “Yeah?”

He blinks once, as if stepping out of a daze before flashing his infuriating smirk at you again. “Definitely.”

There’s an awkward silence, and you watch as he takes a sip of wine before getting up to check on the food. He deems it ready, and makes two bowls, one for you and one for him. He sets yours in front of you, a proud smile on his lips.

“Smells good,” you compliment him as he sits.

He winks at you. “Wait till you taste.”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, and you take a tentative bite, holding his gaze as he expectantly waits.

“Shit,” you let out, and you fan your mouth with your hand. “Why is it so spicy?”

“Don’t tell me you’re like your brother and can’t stand spicy food,” he complains as you take a long sip of wine.

You put your wine glass back down, wincing as it clinks against the bowl. It fortunately doesn’t break, and you push it away from the dish as you chuckle. “What’s wrong with not liking spicy food?”

He pouts. “You guys are so weak.”

You fake-glare at him. “This shit is so spicy it would wake the dead.”

He snorts, stifling his laugh until you meet his gaze and you burst out laughing at the same time. You think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him guffaw like this. His laugh is contagious, pretty, and you’re convinced it can have healing effects.

You’re convinced it has healing effects. Indeed, in that instant, you finally really forget about the day, the heaviness it left behind dwindling into nothingness. It’s replaced with happiness, and chatter with Jungkook becomes easier, more natural. 

You realize he smiles a lot. You make him laugh a lot too, and whenever he does you feel your heart flutter in your chest. You don’t like the feeling, know it’s a mistake, but with the wine, all you can do is try to make him laugh some more, and smile whenever he does.

You’re on your first beer after finishing the wine – and the overly spicy food, which Jungkook congratulated you profusely for finishing. You’ve talked about every subject that’s come to your mind so far, none feeling taboo with Jungkook. He eventually tells you about Shelly – she is indeed one of the girls you’ve heard him sleep with – and you laugh as he admits he’s really happy he didn’t have to see her tonight.

You can’t help but snort. “Jeon Jungkook, saying no to sex? I’ve heard everything.”

“Bruh.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Is your opinion of me so low you think sex is the most important thing to me?”

His eyes are gleaming with mischief in the light of his speaker, which will apparently run out of battery soon. You both don’t care, and you’ve lit a candle in case it does die. Its sweet fragrance has been chasing the smell of the food away, and it’s been giving the kitchen a homey vibe, even as it’s growing chilly.

“Is it not?” you tease.

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you. “Not at all.”

You throw him a no-bullshit look that makes him frown cutely. 

“How long can you go without having sex?” you ask him, holding in a laugh.

He narrows his doe eyes at you. “At least a few weeks.”

“A few weeks? That’s nothing!”

“Yah,” he bursts, and he laughs as you snort. “Peach, just because I have casual sex doesn’t mean I can’t stop if I want to.”

“Then stop,” you challenge him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Give me one reason why I should.”

“To prove a point?”

His eyes narrow further, but if you’ve understood one thing about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he doesn’t step down from a challenge. No, as competitive as he is, you’re pretty sure he’ll do it.

“Peach,” he purrs, and it has something warm form in the pit of your stomach. “Is it really about me proving a point, or is it about you being jealous?”

You choke on the sip of beer you were taking, which only makes him laugh. You think it’s a little condescending, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. You still punch him in the shoulder for it, unable to resist.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask. “Hobi fucks me good.”

Jungkook shuts his eyes and his nose scrunches. He shakes his head once before looking at you again. “I didn’t want to know that.”

You smile as if you’ve never done anything wrong in your whole life. “Your loss.”

He laughs at that, gaze dropping to the table. Silence grows between you, but it’s comfortable, not like what silence with Hoseok feels like. With Hoseok you feel the need to speak whenever there’s a lull in the conversation but, right now, you’re content with just sitting back in your chair, sipping on your beer.

To your surprise, Jungkook starts singing over the song, gaze lost in his own glass of beer. His voice settles deep inside of you, resonating in your soul, and you just look at him, awe clouding your mind.

You’re not sure he’s realized he’s singing. Because when he meets your gaze, he lets out a small laugh. “Why are you looking at me like this?”

“You have a beautiful voice,” you whisper.

It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but you’re pretty sure his cheeks have turned pink. “Nah.”

“No, I’m serious,” you insist. “I often hear you hum and… you sing really well.”

His nose scrunches up again. “Stop it.”

“Just take the compliment,” you say, laughing as he plays with his piercing.

You reckon it might be the first time in your life you’ve ever seen Jeon Jungkook shy. Because he clearly is, and he looks away from you, running his hand through his hair. It undoes the hairstyle, and a strand falls on his forehead.

You’ve never felt such a visceral need to brush your hand through someone’s hair before. You manage to resist, busying yourself with holding your beer instead.

“M’kay,” he lets out. “Thanks, peach.”

His voice is soft. Softer than the fur of a puppy, and it makes the warm thing in you grow. You gulp, wetting your lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes glance at your mouth, and he looks conflicted for half a second before he smirks again.

“We should have hung out like this before,” he declares.

“Yeah?” is all you can answer.

You feel yourself leaning in. You haven’t even realized how close you’re sitting to him until you’re leaning in. He does too. He leans forward, tilting his head to the side slightly. He looks surprised, even more so when one of your hands finds the back of his neck, pulling him closer until you’ve erased the distance between you.

You both didn’t close your eyes. And you both look startled from your lips touching, so much so that you let go of him, straightening away from him. He, on the other hand, hasn’t moved, and his gaze goes fully serious before he grabs your arm gently, pulling you closer to him again.

This time, when your mouths meet, you shut your eyes, sighing softly as he kisses you. His piercings press into your lower lip, and as his mouth moves against you, you feel the warm thing inside of you grow so big it bursts. It bursts the same way fireworks do – in an explosion of colours that leaves you waiting for more.

He doesn’t disappoint. He tilts his head to the side, deepening the kiss. His hand on your arm moves up until it rests on your shoulder before he decides better and moves it to the side of your neck. His thumb swipes at your jaw, gently, and it’s his turn to sigh in the kiss.

When his tongue darts out of his mouth, you meet it with your own. For a reason unknown, you expect it to make you both grow horny, but the kiss remains soft, slow like you have all of eternity stretched out in front of you.

Even though it’s languid, even though it’s soft, you grow dizzy, head spinning as you taste the beer in Jungkook’s mouth. As his hand moves to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You rest one hand on his chest, right above his heart, and you feel the organ racing under your fingers. It makes you grab a handful of fabric as if that will anchor you in the present.

As if that will make you forget that you’re kissing your brother’s best friend. 

It does, though you reckon it might be the way Jungkook shifts in his chair, moving so that you can straddle him. And he pulls you in, softly, tugging on your arm until you let go of the shirt and drape it over his shoulder. You sit on him, legs on each side of him, your toes barely even touching the floor. Still, your mouths move in unison, his lips petal soft against yours. 

Your other arm circles his neck too, until you’re holding him against you. His large hands land on your waist, gently, and his thumbs stroke you, barely even grazing you over the thick fabric of your wool turtleneck.

You don’t know how long you kiss. It just seems like you both don’t want to stop, like you both know the moment you stop will be a wake-up call, one you’d rather avoid while you get stuck in this bubble of eternity with him. The fireworks keep on shining bright, warm summer sun blooming in your heart as if this, this was always meant to be.

Oxygen is futile when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. Not needed, as if he breathes air into your lungs. You think he does, and you sigh once more as your hands get lost in the hair on the back of his head.

The next swipe of his tongue is sharper, carries more intent, and you both startle, finally parting from each other. Though you remain a hairsbreadth away, longing for his lips the moment your mouths aren’t connected anymore.

Immobile, you breathe in shakily, and you hear him do it too. He’s still stroking you, gently, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you in. You rest your head on his shoulder, breathing in the clean laundry smell of his shirt, along with the scent of his cologne as you turn your face towards his neck.

The moment stretches some more, as you listen to the music. His grip around you loosens as you press a soft kiss on the mole you’ve discovered on his neck. He pushes you back, gently, until your back is against the table. Your gazes meet then, and you wonder if his eyes always shine like this. Do they always hold the light of the universe in them, or did you set fire to his gaze?

He gulps and his mouth falls open. His pupils fill with something you can’t quite put your finger on, yet it has clouds taking over the summer sun in your heart until the beating organ goes cold.

“Now you’ve had a fake Valentine’s Day kiss,” he murmurs, and the fireworks burst into a void that tastes like ash as you interpret his gaze.

He’s regretting this. It takes over all of his features, turning his big doe eyes into hearths of remorse. It finishes dousing the sun in your heart until the star goes to sleep, and all that’s left is the echoes of what once was.

“Fake?” is all you manage to let out.

He shuts his eyes, eyelids fluttering close softly. He looks like an angel repenting as he rests his forehead against yours, forcing your own eyes shut from the proximity.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he reminds you, reality sinking into his words. 

You nod against him before pulling away. You try to get up, but his hands on your waist hold you in place.

“Let me go,” you whisper. 

He does so, albeit reluctantly, arms falling to his sides in a defeated manner. You try to not let yourself think about it too much, try to forget what just happened as you stand up, moving away from him.

Without his body heat you shiver, and you hate yourself for the next words you say.

“We should share a room tonight. It’s going to be cold.”

His eyes shoot open as he turns his head towards you, surprise replacing the reality. As if he thought he ruined everything, and you think maybe he did. Maybe he did ruin everything, but you don’t even want to be thinking about it right now. You just want to go to sleep, to let the night pass.

Maybe the insanity will go with it.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “You know, Taehyung doesn’t have to know everything.”

Jungkook slowly gets up, facing you. You gulp as he pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, hand going to your chin again. He leans in, forcing you to tilt your head back until his lips find yours again.

It lasts a fraction of a second, yet it leaves you scrambling for breath as he takes a step back. He nods as you meet his gaze, an eyebrow cocked in question.

“We can sleep in your room,” he says. “It’s smaller, it’s going to be easier to keep it warm.”

Right as he finishes his sentence the battery of his speaker dies, and silence surrounds you as the northern lights go to sleep. The light flickers in time with the flame of the candle, and you glance at it.

“Sounds good,” you agree, and you wet your lips as you look at him again. His big doe eyes still shine even with just the candlelight, and you wish the world was different. Wish that he wasn’t Tae’s friend, that you could just grab him and have him kiss you stupid again. But he’s right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

Sharing a bed is only practical. Only because it’s cold, and you have to survive the night. A voice at the very back of your mind tells you that you could head over to the dorms, but you don’t want to.

You want to remain here, in this instant outside of the linear timeline of your life.

“Maybe you should get your bed covers?” you suggest. “So we don’t get cold.”

He smiles, so far from his usual smirk and grin that you feel a pang in your chest. “Yeah. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

All of five minutes later, he meets you in your room. You’ve changed into your previous outfit, and he’s swiped his dress shirt for an oversized white Nike t-shirt. He’s holding his bed cover to his chest, just a white bundle that he offers you as if he’s trying to make peace with you. You motion to your bed, and he nods before walking over to it.

You shut the door behind him, turning to look at him as he debates for a few seconds where to sleep in your bed. He starts by putting his bed cover over yours and then chooses to sit at the foot of the bed, on the side that’s against the wall.

He then turns to meet your gaze, his profile cast in the flickering light of the candle from the kitchen and the few others you’ve lit while waiting for him.

“I think this is the first time I’ve been in this room since Jimin moved out,” he tells you, and his lips stretch into that same soft smile.

You glance around, pursing your lips. “Hope it doesn’t disappoint.”

“It doesn’t,” he reassures you as he imitates your action, observing your room. “It feels like you.”

Not knowing what’s that supposed to mean, you cock an eyebrow. “Does it?”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t explain further, and you shrug it off as you move closer to your bed to sit on the edge. The moment you’re in his vicinity your heart picks up in your chest. It’s hard to believe that Jeon Jungkook is in your bed right now, and you have to remind yourself that it’s purely because it currently is freezing in your apartment. 

“Should we…” you trail off, motioning at the bed.

He chuckles, a sweet sound that forces you to gaze at him, eyes widening as your heartbeat picks up even more. “You want me in your bed so bad, do you?”

You short-circuit, flushing fully red as you struggle to find something witty to reply with. Falling short on words, you end up shrugging your shoulders as you move under the covers, hoping he won’t tease you further. 

You highly doubt you’d survive him teasing you more.

To your relief, Jungkook ends up chuckling again, but he remains silent as he slides in next to you, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. You lie on your back, while he turns to face you, and you feel the weight of his gaze on your profile.

It makes you turn to look at him, and he offers you the same kind smile.

“Shouldn’t we blow the candles out?” he asks, and his gaze darts to where you’ve left the candles on your desk and night table. “Just to make sure we don’t burn the building down.”

“You want to go to sleep right away?”

You hate yourself for saying that. Indeed, a smirk grows on his lips and he jumps on the occasion to say, “You want to do something else?”

Something grows hot inside of you, and it’s not that same summer sun he ignited in you earlier. You wet your lips, burning from the inside out as you remind him, “We shouldn’t.”

He chuckles again. “Didn’t you say he doesn’t need to know?”

You meet his gaze, find the mischief behind his big doe eyes and roll yours. “You’re annoying.”

Right on cue you shiver. It takes you by surprise, because you feel your insides burning, yet the temperature in your room is low, winning against the warmth.

“Are you cold?” he asks, no traces of mischief left in his eyes. Only concern can be found in his pupils, and you want to hate him for it.

“A little,” you admit. “The covers are just cold.”

They actually are, as your bodies have yet to warm them. To your surprise, Jungkook sidles closer to you. 

“I can hold you, if you want. I’m always too hot.”

You burn a thousand shades of red as you wet your lips. “You don’t have to.”

“Come on, peach, I won’t let you freeze while I’m right here.”

Yet he doesn’t do anything, waits until you’ve nodded your head to slide even closer, and he loosely wraps his arm around your waist. His warm breath fans the side of your face, and you do your best to ignore it.

“Better?” he asks, voice low as he whispers in your ear.

You shut your eyes as electricity courses through your whole body. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Your brain zeroes in on the weight of his arm on you, and when his fingers start tracing random figures on your waist, you let out a small yelp.

“That tickles,” you tell him.

He does it again, and you try to push him away. Only, Jungkook is far stronger than you, and all you manage to do is end up with your back against him as he holds you firmly to him.

“Stop,” you beg, a little breathlessly.

“It’s warming you up, is it not?”

You roll your eyes, though you reckon it is. You don’t feel nearly as cold anymore, and you can feel the heat growing in you again. As an attempt to get away from him, you shuffle, and it earns you a breathless chuckle from him.

Just to make sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing, you move your hips again. Something twitches in his sweatpants and your mouth falls open.

“You’re…”

“Consequences of the position,” he’s quick to say. “Don’t worry about it.”

You don’t know how you possibly can not worry about it. It’s all your brain can focus on as you shift again, and this time he hisses.

“Maybe you should not do that.” His voice is low, husky, and it sends shivers all over your body. 

You bite your lips. “Why?”

He pulls you back in, flush against his chest. His lips ghost on the side of your neck, and you think you’ve been struck with lightning. “Because we can’t do anything about it.”

“Right.”

He rests his head on the pillow behind you again, sighing deeply. His hand holds you against him, forcing you to feel every inch of his hard body pressing into you.

Of his hard dick too, where it pushes into your ass.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” you say, eyes fluttering shut.

He nods. “We should.”

“I need to blow out the candles.”

His arm loosens around you before he fully lets you go. You prop yourself on an elbow, leaning towards the night table. You blow out the candle you’ve left there, and before you can move you feel Jungkook’s palm resting on your hip.

“Shit, peach,” he whispers.

You look behind yourself. Your position is explicit, as if you’re angling yourself to fuck yourself on him better. It makes you move your hips, and you see the moment something snaps inside of him.

“Why don’t you lie down next to me before we blow the rest of the candles out?”

There’s something stern, authoritative in his voice, and you immediately obey him. 

“On your back,” he adds.

You exhale shakily as you turn, not daring to disobey. His hand lands flat on your stomach, and he starts drawing circles around your navel. You inhale sharply as he nudges your cheek with his nose.

“You look stressed.”

“What are you doing?”

You hear the smirk in his voice when he says, “Helping you fall asleep?”

“Jungkook…”

“Peach.”

You fall silent as he keeps tracing circles. He sighs next to you, almost longingly and he rests his forehead against your temple. His lips are so close you think you feel their softness on your cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispers. His fingers still on you, under your navel. Some inch or so over the band of your sweatpants and he pushes your shirt up before resuming his actions directly on your skin.

“We really shouldn’t…” you trail off.

“Are you going to be able to sleep?” he asks.

It’s rhetorical – he knows just as well as you that you won’t. “No.”

“It could help you sleep.”

You don’t want to know what the ‘it’ refers to. “Yeah?”

He wets his lips, or maybe he plays with his piercing. But from the proximity, you feel his tongue and you think you’re going to die right then and there.

“Doesn’t it help you sleep when you touch yourself?”

You’re soaking your panties. You’re burning up, caught on fire by every strike of lightning that Jungkook’s words ignite in you.

“Does it help you?” you counter-back, remembering when you heard him watching porn two weeks ago.

“It does. Always sleep soundly after.”

You slowly nod, gulping as his lips close on your jaw, and he sucks gently. 

He’s danger in human form. And he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to weave words to cause your undoing. You think he’s already started weeks ago, the night of the Incident. 

Taehyung is miles away from your thoughts when you say, “You want to touch me?”

He smirks against you, licks at the spot he just sucked on. “Why don’t you show me how you touch yourself?”

He moves his hand away from your stomach, and you moan softly when he parts your thighs open, resting his palm on the one closest to him as he presses it against his hard dick.

“Shit, Jungkook.”

“I know.”

You hate him. You hate him so much you slide your hand between your legs, pressing a circle on your clit.

“Good girl.”

You moan again, yet you stop your ministrations on yourself. “I want to watch you touch yourself too.”

He grunts, grinds his dick in the side of your thigh once more. “You want to see me come?”

“Want you to finger me with your cum.”

You’ve gone insane. You think there’s an asylum out there for you, yet Jungkook only chuckles manly against your jaw. “Peach, I won’t touch you tonight.” You whine, and he sucks on your jaw again. “You can do it yourself.”

He’s mad. So are you, and you untie the knot of your sweatpants so you can slide your hand in. You moan softly as you find your clit, and you dip two fingers inside of yourself before moving back to the bundle of nerves.

“Jerk yourself off,” you tell him. You try to sound commanding, dominant, but your voice is whiny. It earns you a smirk from him as he turns on his back. He takes off his pants and underwear, clearly not as shy as you. You can’t see his dick when you look down as he’s still under the covers, and you gulp as you imagine it.

Feeling bold, you push the covers off, needing to see him. And the sight doesn’t disappoint. His dick is large. Not excessively long, but the girth makes you understand why he’s got girls screaming whenever he fucks them. His tip is glistening with precum, and he runs his thumb on the slit before spreading the precum on his shaft. Large veins run along the length, from base to top, and you’re struck thinking he’s got the prettiest cock you’ve seen in your life.

“Like what you see?” he teases as he strokes his dick once, slowly but with a firm grip.

“Do you want to see me too?”

You really are bold. Far bolder than you’ve ever been with anyone before. Maybe because all of tonight Jungkook has put you at ease, and you think there’s nothing embarrassing about finally living out your fantasy. Especially not when he’s so pliable to it, willing to follow you into the land of insanity.

Scratch that – he’s the one leading to madness.

“It’s only fair if I see you too, no?” he teases with a smirk on his lips as he looks at you with his dark, intense gaze.

“Yeah.”

It’s all you say before you shimmy out of your pants. You don’t miss the way his eyes go to your hip, where you have a large dragon tattoo. He curses under his breath. “Didn’t know you were tatted.”

“Got it last semester,” you answer with a shaky voice.

He smirks up at you. “Hot.”

You gulp, unable to hold his gaze for longer than a few seconds. Shier than him, you keep the panties on. To your surprise, he sits up, runs his hand on the inside of your thigh before he lies down on the other side so he has a view of between your legs. His feet are next to your head, and you angle yourself away from them so that they aren’t in your face anymore.

“Touch yourself, peach.”

You nod, and you draw circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear. It’s a plain black thong, yet you feel immensely sexy when Jungkook’s doe eyes narrow dangerously as he watches you touching yourself, stroking his dick lazily.

You watch how he touches himself, heart beating out of your chest. You’re on fire, a wildfire raging through you, and you moan softly as you press harder into you.

“Why don’t you touch yourself under your panties, mmh?” he asks, gaze sliding up to meet yours before he goes back between your legs. “Won’t it feel better?”

You can’t resist him. You push your panties to the side, holding them with one hand as you go back to your clit. Your thighs instinctively want to close together, but he holds them open.

“Put your fingers in.”

You do. You push two digits in, arching them as you rub at the sweet spot inside of you. He watches, licking his lips as he increases the pace on his dick. You moan right as he grunts, the sound making shivers course up and down your spine.

“Why don’t you use your vibrator instead?”

You entirely stop moving, digits deep inside of you. “Huh?”

“I’ve heard you use a vibrator,” he explains. “I want to see you bury it in your tight little pussy.”

Your walls clench around your fingers at his crude words, and it doesn’t take any more for you to roll towards your night table so you can grab said vibrator. When you’re settled back in your previous position, you click it on, and the soft buzzing fills your room.

“Wait,” Jungkook says, stopping you before you’ve pushed your panties aside again. “Take this off.”

He pinches the fabric on your hip, over the tattoo, and all you can do is nod once before you do. He licks his lips, looking at you appreciatively through half-lidded eyes. He looks between your legs, where you just know he can see your juices glistening. Before he says anything else, you put the vibrator on your clit, legs twitching as harsh pleasure courses through you.

To your surprise, he moans, a low sound that has your pussy clench hard. Of course he sees, and he’s quick to say, “Put it in, peach.”

You obey, and you let out a breathy sound as you immediately rub your clit with your other hand. The next few minutes are a world of bliss, of pleasure and of Jungkook’s praises and grunts, entwined with your moans. You think your room is burning hot, or maybe it’s just his eyes on you. His balls are tight as he jerks off harder, faster, eyes never once moving away from the spot between your legs, where your vibrator makes squelching sounds as you push it in and out of you.

“You’re doing so well,” Jungkook tells you after you’ve moaned loudly. 

You’re nearing your high, but for some reason, you haven’t been able to hit it yet. His words bring you closer, yet it remains just barely out of touch.

“So fucking well,” he adds, breathlessly, and you notice he’s gripping his dick harder, moving so fast you barely can see his hand, except when it slows on his head with a flick of his wrist. He moans, grunts loudly. “You’re so hot, I’m going to come.”

“Fuck,” you curse as you watch him push his shirt up, and you catch sight of his defined muscles. They contract as he jerks himself off, and you think you’re drooling.

Maybe because you’re so close to hitting an orgasm that you can’t do anything other than drool.

He glances at your face once. You meet his gaze, blood boiling as you see his eyebrows almost touching over his eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes loudly. His eyelids flutter close as his eyebrows bunch up over his eyes even more, and then he moans out something that sounds like your name.

Not ‘peach’. Your full name. It makes your eyes water as you observe him, as you watch how he looks in pain. And then he curses, and your eyes fall to his dick to see white spurts of cum coming out, covering the tattoos on the back of his hand as he keeps moving, never once faltering.

Your walls clench tightly around your vibrator. You think you’re about to come, but the orgasm doesn’t want to hit, evading you frustratingly. Your motions grow inconsistent, the push and the pull of the vibrator clearly not enough for you.

As Jungkook comes down from his high, he surveys you once more, features blissed out from coming. He watches you struggle as his hand stops at the base of his dick.

“Look at the mess I made because of you,” he says, and you moan. He tilts his head to the side, pulls at his piercing, and then stops you. Puts his hand over yours between your legs as the vibrator rests deep inside of you. “Do you need help?”

You feel some of his cum as it spills from his hand to yours. You keep rubbing on your clit, meeting his gaze as he awaits your answer. “Yes.”

He smirks, and you let him grab your vibrator. He pulls it out of you, watches your juice on it with a hungry look on his features before he hands it to you again. “Put this on your clit.”

You obey, and you sigh in pleasure as he covers two of his fingers with his cum, even picking some up where it fell on his abdomen, decorating his defined abs. You know exactly what he’s going to do before he does, and it makes you curse.

He meets your gaze. “Are you on the pill?”

“IUD.”

He smirks. “Good girl.”

And then he pushes his cum-covered fingers inside of you, arching them to expertly play with your g-spot. You cry out, throwing your head back in pleasure. He fucks you with his digits for a while, and you press your vibrator hard on your clit, as if it’s going to make you come faster.

All it does is make you close your thighs on his wrist. He pulls his fingers out, forces you to spread your legs wide open again, and then circles your entrance with one finger.

“It’s so hot, to watch my cum dripping out of you.”

His digits are in again before you can reply, and he fucks you so well, you crash right into your orgasm, walls spasming around his fingers. You moan, loudly so, and tears prick at your eyes as the waves of your orgasm drown everything in you, making you shake with pleasure.

You ride the high for a long time. Longer than you’ve ever had before, and Jungkook whispers filthy praises to you all through it, until you cringe with oversensitivity and turn off the vibrator. You put it down next to you, and Jungkook pushes in and out twice more before he pulls his fingers out of you.

You remain silent for a while, both of you regaining your breath. Once you stop feeling like you’re seconds away from passing out, you prop yourself on your elbows, watching him. He’s still looking between your legs, and you instinctively close them.

His eyes shoot to your face, and he smirks. “You have no idea how hot you are with my cum dripping out of you, peach.”

You bite your lip, so hard you think you taste blood. “Shit.”

“I know.”

“What did we do?”

He shrugs, sucking on his piercing. “We made sure we’ll sleep well, that’s all.”

You sigh, nodding once before you lie back down on the bed. “Shit,” you repeat.

This time he laughs. It’s a soft sound, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest. For some reason, it reminds you of the kiss in the kitchen, and butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Even more so as he says, “Let me go get something to clean you up with.”

He pulls his boxers up and then gets up. You miss the way he winces as his feet hit the cold floor, and he’s back with a washcloth before you’ve had time to realize he was gone.

“I’m sorry, there was no hot water left.”

“Oh,” you let out.

He chuckles as he sits next to you. “Do you want to do it or…?”

You nod, and you grab the washcloth out of his hands before cleaning yourself up. It really is cold, and you wince, one eye shutting as you make sure you’re clean before handing it back to him.

“What do you want me to do with this?” he asks, a teasing tone in his voice.

“I don’t know?” 

He laughs, still grabbing it before throwing it in your hamper. “Did you want to pee before going to bed?”

You nod again. “I should.”

“Are you okay to get there?”

You roll your eyes, finally finding some of your usual defiance. “You didn’t fuck me, Jungkook, I can still use my legs.”

“Right,” he lets out before chuckling. “I’ll wait for you here then.”

The trip to the bathroom is the worst you’ve ever experienced, with how cold it is in the rest of the apartment. You’re pleased that your room is warm when you come back, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you see Jungkook lying on his side, looking at you as you enter and shut the door behind you.

He smiles warmly at you. “Better?”

“Why is it so cold?” you complain, which makes him laugh that cute, giggly laugh of his. You immediately look away from him, not wanting him to see the blush on your cheeks.

You blow the rest of the candles out, and in the dark, you make your way to your bed. You slide under the covers, sighing at how warm they are now.

“I’m glad you stayed,” Jungkook says as you settle next to him.

You gulp. “What?”

“You said you were going to go to the dorms,” he reminds you, even though that was an eternity ago. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Oh,” you let out. You’re happy it’s dark because your cheeks burn so much you imagine you’ve turned purple. “I’m glad I stayed too.”

He sighs, and you feel the mattress move as he shifts. “Do you want to cuddle?” he asks. “For warmth.”

You snort, and even though you’re in the dark, you nod. 

“Sure.”

A few seconds later, you’re the small spoon again, and he holds you close to him. He sighs once more, and it ends with a yawn that has you laugh softly.

“Tired?” you tease him.

“Yeah.” He chuckles, nuzzling his face in your hair. “I’m going to sleep like a rock.”

So are you. Even if you shouldn’t, even if you and Jungkook probably committed a big mistake tonight, you still know you’re going to sleep soundly.

Especially as his breathing evens out behind you, interrupted by soft snores here and there. It forms a melody that lulls you to the land of dreams, to a land where you can forget that he’s Taehyung’s best friend, and where you can imagine that he’s yours after all. It’s idyllic, unreal, yet your sleeping form clings to it like it’s a lifeline in a storm.

You just know that reality is bound to hit again soon.

Prev | Chapter 3.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Oooooof yep. They really did that hehehe. What did you guys think? Did you like it? Let me know!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[sheerfreesia007]

Dandelions

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader

Word count: 5,252

Content warnings: Arranged marriage, fluff, mention of sex, suggestive but no actual smut, pining idiots

Summary: You and Lee Minho have been childhood friends due to your fathers being close. When your family falls into a large debt with no way to pay it off Minho decides to step in and help. But when your father proposes an arranged marriage in exchange will you be able to survive it or will you get your heartbroken?

Mindeulle: Dandelion, Jagi: Sweetheart

Part Two: Interrupting The Festivities

“So apparently there’s a lot of drama going on with the Choi clan. Did you hear that Jongho is now seeing the Candela’s oldest daughter? She just recently got divorced from her ex husband. It was a quick divorce too.” Jisung rambles on as he lounges on the long sofa in Minho’s office while tossing a tennis ball up into the air and catching it. 

Every week Jisung would come and brief Minho on all the gossip that he heard throughout the week and update him on anything that he heard through the grapevine. Minho for the most part doesn’t really care for the gossip but he knows it’s beneficial to know so he lets Jisung come in and just relay it all to him. “And apparently San still hasn’t confessed to the love of his life and he might lose his shot at her since there’s a new upcomer on the scene lately. Oh! I also heard the Yun clan aren’t doing so well lately.” Jisung says in an almost regretfully absent minded tone and Minho immediately raises his head. The clan name catches Minho’s attention and he turns his head away from his computer screen to stare at the younger man taking up space on his sofa.

It’s been a long time since he’s heard that last name, in fact five years to be exact. The last time he saw any member of the Woo clan was at his father’s funeral five years ago when he had stepped into the role of head of his family while grieving the loss of the most important man in his life. And you, the Yun’s only daughter, had been there at his side holding him up as his grief tried to consume and overtake him. But with just the mention of the name Minho is instantly transported back to his childhood, where he would run wild with you at his family’s vacation home each year during the hot summers where he was free to be who he truly was without having to wear a mask. You had never tolerated anything but his truth whenever the two of you were together, it was freeing being with you during those summers.

“What’s going on with the Yun clan?” Minho asks curiously as his eyes focus on the back of Jisung’s head as his thoughts clear from his memories. His assistant slash partner turns to look over the couch and smirks softly at his friend with a knowing look on his face.

“Why are you so curious about the Yun family?” he teases Minho who frowns darkly at him in response. Jisung grins widely at him from the couch before turning back to face away from him and continue to toss the tennis ball into the air. It was no secret that Minho had grown up with you during his childhood since both of your fathers had been close friends. You had been there for every important milestone of his and he was there for all of yours. But ever since his father had passed away and Minho had stepped into the role of head of the family your relationship had grown distant. He hadn’t meant for it to but more often than not he would be too busy to respond to any of your texts, calls or letters that you sent. “I heard that they’ve fallen into a large amount of debt and are having a hard time getting out of the hole. Plus they’ve been in talks with the Song family though no one seems to know about what.” Jisung says with a shrug of his shoulders.

Minho stares at him from his desk as his mind begins to worry about you and your family wondering how bad it has gotten for you and why you haven’t reached out to him about it. He silently mulls over the knowledge that Jisung had just presented to him and he’s reminded of a summer that you both had spent at his family’s vacation home away from the city and the busy hectic life. You both had been out in the fields that surrounded his home just walking around talking about whatever came to mind as you diligently collected flowers for his mother to put in a vase in the kitchen. You were in a pretty flowing lilac dress that fell to your knees in a soft flutter of fabric, your hair had been braided up out of your face and your eyes were bright with your happy laughter ringing through the air. It was the year you had both turned thirteen, an age that Minho insisted was unlucky but you had proved him wrong that summer. That was the summer Minho had realized he was in love with you. 

But as you both made your way through the field you hadn’t noticed the rock nestled in the thick grass until you were tumbling feet over head. He had quickly rushed to your side and found you gritting your teeth as you inspected your bruised knee before asking him to help you up. When he had offered to carry you you had indignantly refused insisting that you were big enough to take care of yourself.

A soft fond smile graces his face as warmth fills him with the memory as he grows nostalgic for a time that’s been long gone. Of course you wouldn’t have reached out to him about your family’s debt, you’re too proud to ask for help when you know yourself to be capable. He knows that you’ve been working in the advertisement business ever since a year after his father’s funeral and you had excelled at your job garnering an impressive career to back up your work ethic, he has a feeling that you’ve probably been working yourself to the bone to try and help alleviate the debt. But he knows with the way the loan was probably made that it would take you much longer to make any significant dent in it. He wonders how long you’ve been dealing with this issue on your own and how large the debt is if Jisung is hearing about it now. A frown darkens his face as the worrying thought that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than you should have been crossed his mind.

“What’s going through that head of yours? I’ve just seen at least five different emotions cross your face.” Jisung calls out as he peers over the sofa arm. Minho’s eyes dart over to his friend and he furrows his brow slightly before he starts to plan out his next steps.

”I need to have a meeting with Yun Hak-Kun. And you need to find out everything you can about this debt for me.” Minho says solemnly and Jisung smiles brightly at his words as his eyes twinkle with a teasing light.

”What are you planning?” Jisung asks knowingly as he turns to face away from Minho. Grabbing the stress ball that he always left on his desk Minho launches it at the back of Jisung’s head and smirks triumphantly at Jisung’s loud squawk of distress.

*-*-*-*

The restaurant is dimly lit as Minho steps into it and stands to the side of the door, he adjusts his suit jacket on his frame as his eyes roam the dining room of the restaurant. There’s a woman standing at a podium looking at him with expectant eyes and he shakes his head at her before she nods once and busies herself with something else. He finally spots Yun Hak-Kun sitting at a booth near the front windows gazing out of it, a look of worry and concern on his face as a bowl of soup sits in from him with steam coming off of it. 

Taking in a deep breath Minho begins to walk over to the table, his emotions are all over the place as his eyes take in the older man. It’s been at least five years since he’s last seen the man and within that time it looks as if there has been so much change if the dark circles and wrinkles on his face are any indication. He wonders idly how much you have changed since he last saw you at his father’s funeral, he hopes that it wasn’t too much of a change as his mind conjured up the last image he had of you. When he comes to stand at the side of the table he bows elegantly to the man who looks over at him with surprise written on his face.

”Minho-ah?” The man asks confused as his eyes dart around behind Minho trying to see if there was anyone else with him. Obviously the man has come to distrust mostly everyone around him thanks to this debt that he’s fallen into, the knowledge of that pains Minho and guilt fills him as he wonders if he could’ve stopped this from happening if he was around more.

”Good evening Hak-Kun, how are you?” Minho asks kindly as he stands to the side of the table.

”Please, come sit. I will order you some food.” The older man rushes out as he gestures to the other side of the booth for Minho to sit. He then turns to call one of the waitresses over so that he could place an order for Minho. Minho unbuttons his suit jacket before he slides into the booth and gratefully takes a seat across from the man. “How are you son? Is everything alright? Is your mother alright?” asks the older man worriedly and Minho smiles at his concern, it had always been that way when he was growing up. Both families would be the support and guardian of each other, it was partly the reason why he felt so guilty to have to hear from Jisung that your family was struggling. He hadn’t been there for you or your family like he should have been and he knew his father would’ve been disappointed in him for that.

“My mother and I are just fine. I came here tonight because I’ve heard that you’re not doing well.” he said softly, not wanting to offend the older man. He watched as the man furrowed his brow as a soft frown fell over his face, before shaking his head adamantly.

“We are fine. Where did you hear that?” Hak-Kun asked with a deep scowl on his face. Minho nodded once at the older man before gazing at him earnestly watching as Hak-Kun shifted slightly in his seat before sighing softly. “How much do you know?” he asked knowingly and Minho twisted his lips in thought wondering how much he should tell the older man that he had looked into their situation. He didn’t want to completely offend him and make him distrust him as well but he needed to be honest with him.

“I know that you trusted the wrong person and they took advantage of your kind spirit.” Minho said softly with a soft frown before looking down to the table and tapping it gently with his index finger. “I know that you’re now in a lot of debt that will take you years to get out of if you keep paying them like you are now.” Minho explained and Hak-Kun looked at him with wide worried eyes before he sighed loudly and tiredly as his head hung heavily.

“We’re drowning.” Hak-Kun admitted and Minho nodded his head at the man’s words. The waitress came back with the soup for Minho and he nodded his head at her in thanks before waiting until she left the table to speak again. He didn’t want anyone else to hear what they were talking about, he didn’t think it was right to air this man’s troubles to everyone.

“Let me help.” Minho said softly and Hak-Kun snapped his head up before quickly shaking his head.

“No, no I couldn’t ask that of you. We are working on a plan, Mindeulle has agreed to choose a husband and I am in negotiations with the Song family.” Hak-Kun said softly and regrettably. Minho flinched back at the man’s words when he mentioned your childhood nickname, Dandelion, and then the knowledge that you had chosen Song Mingi as a husband made his blood boil with anger and indignation. 

“What?” Minho asked on a soft gasp as his chest tightened at the thought of you being married to another man. Hak-Kun nodded his head solemnly as he sighed softly.

“She’s aware of the debt and has chosen to help in this way. The Song family want their son Mingi to marry and settle down and are willing to help us with part of the debt. They have agreed that Mindeulle would make a lovely wife for him and her career will help further their family’s standing in society.” Hak-Kun explained softly and Minho shook his head quickly as he scowled softly at the table. He couldn’t allow this to happen, he couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this when he was so close to being with you once again. He knew he was being selfish in his way of manipulating your father into getting what he wanted, you. But he was eager to finally be with you after loving you silently for so many years.

“I’ll marry her.” Minho said softly with a determined tone in his voice.

“What? Minho, son.” Hak-Kun said surprised as he looked over at the boy that he had practically helped raise.

“Cancel the negotiations with the Song family. I’ll pay the debt off in full.” Minho said firmly and Hak-Kun looked over at him with wide surprised eyes before he smiled softly at the boy. “It’s better if it’s me, I have her best interests at heart and will make sure to always protect her.” Minho says adamantly as the look Hak-Kun’s face softens at how insistent he was being.

“You always were in love with her weren’t you?” Hak-Kun asks softly and Minho stares at him surprised before bashfully ducking his head as Hak-Kun chuckles softly. “She was sad when you pulled away after your father’s funeral but she understood it. She knows how crazy and hectic life can get. I will set up the meeting between the two of you. I have no complaints if you married her, even without your help I would be happy to officially call you my son.” Hak-Kun says fondly and Minho smiles softly at his kindness before nodding his head. The two of them then began to eat their soup in a peaceful quiet as they enjoyed each other’s presence.

*-*-*-*

Your eyes widen when you step into the living room of your parents’ home, your father had called you to come over because he had found you a husband who would be able to help take care of the debt that your family had fallen into. Ever since it had happened a year ago you had been working as much as you possibly could to help send money to lessen the debt but no matter how much money you sent over it was never enough to make any change. You had agreed with your father’s proposition of marrying into a wealthy family who would be able to help with the debt much more than you ever could, he hadn’t given you many specifics on who it was he was in talks with but you had heard some rumors that he had contacted the Song family.

Which is why when you spotted Lee Minho sitting comfortably on the sofa with his ankle crossed over his knee talking and laughing with your parents you were shocked to your core. Your eyes raked up and down him silently as you stood in the doorway and almost as if he had felt your eyes on him he turned his head slowly to gaze at you with a wide familiar smile on his face.

“Mindeulle.” he greeted you softly as his eyes squinted with warmth at you. You were instantly transported to the summer of your thirteenth year where you would hide with Minho in the field of flowers that surrounded his family’s vacation home. The two of you giggling to each other as you shared your deepest secrets with each other while lying in the tall grass letting it completely hide you from view of the world.

“Minho.” you say on a gasp as you’re suddenly pulled from your memories as he stands from the sofa and moves towards you. You don’t think as you rush towards him and launch yourself into his waiting arms as he chuckles softly at you while tilting his head down towards yours.

“Hi Mindeulle.” he said softly into your hair and you grip him tightly in response as a smile falls brightly on your face. Suddenly your father clears his throat and you regretfully pull away from Minho to look over at your smiling parents who are watching the sweet reunion between best friends. You duck your head slightly as your cheeks flush brightly at being caught hugging Minho so tight and he chuckles into your hair as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side bemusedly.

“I know you’ve heard the rumors about me being in talks with the Song family about arranging a marriage between you and their son Mingi, but Minho has graciously stepped up to help our family.” Your father explains in a soft fond tone as he watches the two of you stand before him. “In thanks to his help he has agreed to an arranged marriage between the two of you. Your mother and I are more than happy with this arrangement, we know Minho will take good care of you. He always has.”

Your face flushes prettily at the knowledge that Minho had consciously offered to help your family and agreed to an arranged marriage with you. Your mind raced with the possibility that maybe this marriage wouldn’t be considered a burden to him. Your eyes dart over to your mother and she smiles beautifully at you before nodding her head once in silent acknowledgement of the marriage between the two of you. Minho squeezes your side before tugging you further into his side and you look up at him with a soft grateful look on your face as he smiles fondly down at you. Your thoughts are racing as you continue to gaze at him silently, you’re wondering if he’s happy with this arrangement and if his agreement to this was out of familial obligation.

“Mindeulle, do you have any protests?” your father asked you softly and you felt everyone’s eyes on you as you stood pressed to Minho’s side.

“No, no protests or complaints.” you said warmly to your father before looking up at Minho as your hand came up to rest against his chest feeling his muscles underneath your palm. Your eyes widened slightly at the strong feeling of the muscle underneath your palm before you quickly shook your head and smiled softly up at him. Minho’s eyes were sharp as he regarded you silently before his eyes dipped down to your hand, your lips parted on a silent gasp as you felt the muscle flex underneath your hand and Minho’s answering smirk made your body flush with heat and desire for him.

“Good, then let us leave you two to catch up.” your father said kindly and you nodded blindly at him as your eyes darted around Minho’s smirking face. His eyes moved to watch your parents leave the room and he nodded his head once at them before he turned back to gaze down at you.

“No protests or complaints?” he asked softly still with that smirk on his face and you smiled warmly up at him before tilting your head to the side.

“Well, I mean it’s you.” you began and his eyes sparkled with a challenge in them as he waited for you to continue. “Even if I protested, would it make a difference?” you asked knowingly in a light teasing tone. Minho’s smirk widened on his face as he slowly wrapped his arms low around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your hands immediately going to lay flat on his chest feeling his muscles flex once again under your palms.

“Glad we’re on the same page Mindeulle.” he husked out at you and you shivered in his arms as his eyes sparkled delightedly. “You’re mine now, Jagi. I promise to always be by your side from now on no matter what. I won’t let anything harm you or your family.” he whispers softly to you and you can feel tears beginning to prick your eyes at his solemn promise that he was making. The whiplash of emotions was almost too much for you as he went from seductive teasing to sweet solemn promises. “I know I wasn’t there before for five years but I’m here now.” he told you and you felt one tear slip down your face before he caught it with his index finger.

“I don’t blame you for being busy taking care of your family after your father’s passing.” you confess to him softly. “I’m just happy you’re back in my life now.” Minho smiles adoringly down at you as his hands come up to cup your cheeks and he pulls your face close to his until he brushes his nose gently against yours.

“I’m going to always be in your life by your side.” he whispers to you before he tilts your face up to his and presses a soft chaste kiss to your lips. You hum softly into the kiss as your eyes flutter shut and let yourself feel all your love and affection that you’ve held within your heart for him pour out into the kiss.

*-*-*-*

The wedding was beautiful and you couldn’t help but feel such a grand emotional connection to Minho on the day. He was handsome dressed in his tuxedo as it stood at the altar waiting for you while your father walked you down the aisle towards him. And when he had handed you over to Minho with a warm affectionate smile and a deep bow to the younger man that had both you and Minho tearing up at the significance of the deep bow. Even Jisung had burst into tears half way through the ceremony causing Minho to roll his eyes while softly scolding him and you chuckling softly before handing him your handkerchief. 

When it had come to saying your vows you both had surprised the other by having handwritten vows for each other instead of using the generic vows the officiant had at ready. You had gone first with a shaky voice telling Minho that he had been with you through every important moment of your life and that you were so proud to have him by your side during the most important moment in your life now. You confessed to him that your heart beat for him now and would forever beat for him. Closing your vow with the promise to always love him the way he should be loved by another.

Minho’s vows had shocked and surprised you with his own love confession stating that he loved you back when he had just realized what love was and he would love until he couldn’t love anymore. He had admitted that he had lost his way after his father passed away but he had never stopped loving you in that time apart. And now that you were back at each other’s side he had no intention of ever leaving you again. Both you and Jisung had tears coursing down your faces at the end of his vows and Minho had jokingly teased that the two of you were crybabies.

The rest of the evening had been nothing but love filled light moments and towards the end of the night you had found yourself caught up in all the emotions and love that filled the reception hall. You couldn’t help yourself when Minho had tugged you onto the dance floor for one last final dance of the evening, you had rested your head against his chest pressing your ear above his heart listening to the steady thumping of it. Your body had heated with all the love and desire you held for this man and you found yourself desperately pulling him into a kiss that shocked you down to your bones. Minho eagerly returned the kiss as everyone in the room cheered and hollered with delight at your sweet display of affection for each other.

That night the two of you had fallen into bed together exploring each other’s body with soft caress and sweet whispers. Minho’s attention to every detail about you and your body had you singing for him in moans and whimpers that he committed to memory. Any and all sounds that Minho makes nestle into the fabric of your entire being and live under your skin now just waiting until the next time you can get him alone like this.

The morning after you’re greeted to a litany of bruises and love marks all over your body from your newly appointed husband and you can’t help but cherish them as you gaze at them in the mirror. You both then fall into an easy routine where you share sweet fleeting moments together during your busy schedules often crashing together at night in your shared bedroom to create a loving symphony of noises and movements that mirror each other.

Married life suits you it seems as you find yourself more at peace with the world at Minho’s side but there’s still that nagging thought in the back of your brain that he might still view this marriage as a familial obligation since your families were so close while growing up. You try not to let that nagging thought take over your mind but there are some days when you’re unable to stop it from doing so. On those days Minho seems to pay extra attention to you with his soft touches and sweet words, he may not understand what it is you’re thinking or what’s plaguing your mind but he knows that something is off and he tries to alleviate it or assure you that the two of you are just fine. You try to just enjoy your new found life with him as his wife and bury any doubt that you have.

*-*-*-*

The sun is warm on your skin as you lay back in the tall grass field surrounding Minho’s family vacation home, well now your family vacation home. You smile to yourself as you consciously correct yourself before stretching like a lazy house cat disrupting the dozing man on your stomach. Minho had proposed spending your first year wedding anniversary at the vacation home where you had spent your summers as kids. You had eagerly agreed knowing that a trip down memory lane was long overdue for the two of you, not to mention the two of you had been so busy with your careers that it was time for a much needed break.

There’s a light breeze that rushes through the fields and you hum softly as it ghosts across your heated skin and ruffles your loose hair. Suddenly there’s a large shadow that covers you and you blink your eyes open to stare up at Minho who’s hovering over you with a curious look on his face.

”What is it Minho?” You ask softly as one of your hands comes up to cup his cheek gently. He leans into your touch smiling happily before pressing a kiss to your palm.

”Did you ever think we’d ever be here? Married to each other back in the place where we grew up together?” He asked softly and you smiled softly at him as your heart thudded in your chest.

”I had hoped.” You confessed to him softly and he looked down at you with a slight furrow in his brows questioning your soft saddened tone. “I’ve been in love with you since we turned thirteen Minho. It was here during that summer that I figured it out, when you would lay in the field with me just like this talking about everything that came to mind.” You whispered to him still cupping his cheek and smiling softly up at him. “I never imagined that you might feel the same for me. And I still don’t believe it, I keep thinking one day you’re going to wake up and tell me that this isn’t love but familial obligation.” You confess as your breath begins to come in soft gasps. Minho looks down at you with soft saddened eyes as he begins to shake his head in response to your confession. 

“Mindeulle” he coos softly at you before smiling brightly at you. “I’ve been in love with you since the same summer. I realized it when you spent the whole summer trying to convince me that our thirteenth year wasn’t unlucky.” He confessed softly and you stared up at him as your lips parted in a gasp remembering that summer vividly, your eyes searched his and found only love and affection sparkling within them as he gazed down at you. “I love you Mindeulle, I think I always have. It just took me thirteen years to figure it out. But I promise to always love you until I can’t anymore.” He admitted, his words reminiscent of his vows on your wedding day.

You cried out happily before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to press your lips to his sweetly pouring all of your love into the kiss hoping he would receive it well. Minho hummed softly against your mouth as his hands trailed down the outside of your thighs before hooking under your knees and dragging your legs to cradle his hips. You gasped into his mouth as he smirked and you chuckled softly at his intentions.

”Minho” you scolded softly and he pulled back with a look of faux shock on his face.

”I am doing nothing but kissing my beautiful wife. I don’t know what’s going through your pretty little head.” He teased you before kissing you again. You hummed against his mouth as he shifted you under him making you cry out with desire as he brushed against you. “But if you want to share your thoughts I promise to be open minded.” He teased darkly and you chuckled at him. Just as you were about to open your mouth to respond to him there came an excited cry from the house and Minho sighed softly as you chuckled delightedly.

”Aye! Lee family! Where are you hiding?!” Jisung’s voice rang out from the house and you couldn’t help but chuckle as Minho rolled his eyes at his best friend’s excitement.

”Why did you invite him again?” You ask teasingly and he glowers at you for a second before rolling his eyes once again.

”I didn’t! He invited himself.” He huffs out as you chuckle at his predicament. But then Minho’s face turns devious and you suck in a harsh breath knowing exactly how his mind worked after all these years. ”You think he’ll be able to find us before I have you whimpering underneath me?” He asked sultrily and you gasped as he put his thought into practice racing his best friend’s curiosity.

SKZ Taglist: @intartaruginha, @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin

[marsbutterfly]

MECHANIC BADDIE HANJI WHO FIXES UP READERS CAR. SHES ALL LIKE I CAN TAKE CARE OF IT DARLING. YOU JUST SIT THERE AND LOOK PRETTY. (IDK SHIT ABOUT CARS) JUST NEED AN ACTS OF SERVICE HANJI

I'll Fix It All

a/n: omg happy new year!! this turned out way longer than I originally intended for it to be. i was hoping to post it before the year turned but i'll also accept the first day of the year lol. enjoy.

warnings: fem!reader (she/her), nb! hanji zoe (they/them), modern au, anxiety, panic attacks, kissing, fluff, comfort. also like, i don't know much about cars or car repair so pls bear with me. tagging: @wizzy21 wc: 2.5k | wattpad! | ao3!

"No, no, no, no, NO!" You cry out as your car slowly begins to lose speed. This isn't the first time this week, nor the second, nor the third. You couldn't even count on one hand the amount of times the engine had been making that weird noise and the light had been blinking at you like a malevolent eye.

But you thought you could put it off, that you could easily ignore it, and that it would fix itself like it had many times before. Maybe you just needed to check the coolant or add some more water to the radiator, except you continuously forgot to do so. And it finally came back to bite you in the ass.

As the smoke comes out of the hood, you grip the steering wheel tightly, a loud grunt escaping your lips as your forehead presses against the horn, the loud noise filling the air all around you. Still, you are lucky enough to be in a somewhat empty area so the least amount of people will be disturbed.

Your first instinct is to panic. You can feel the blood rushing through your body, your face getting warmer as a few tears begin to prickle in your eyes. You let out a shaky exhale, cursing yourself for allowing this situation to happen in the first place. Before you can even begin to cry, you feel your phone vibrating in the cup holder next to you, the caller's name showing up on the screen attached to the dashboard. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ‎‎‎"Sunshine ☼"

With a sniffle, you wipe the tears before they even have the chance to roll down your cheeks and pick up your phone, pressing the green button on the screen as you try your best to sound like you are composed and not entirely freaking out at the moment.

"Hello, my most beloved," you say, trying your best to sound like your playful self. Though it has no sound, you can almost hear the smile dropping off Hanji's face. It was not out of the ordinary for them to quickly pick up on the slightest change in your tone of voice.

"What happened?" They ask without missing a beat, the tone of their voice filled with love and concern, almost as if they were already expecting you to be in some sort of distress. "I was doing the dishes and accidentally broke a glass because I got such a bad feeling that my hand started shaking."

You sniffle but a small giggle exits your chest, the idea that the two of you are so intertwined that they can even sense when you are in some sort of distress, "Yeah, I'm fine… My car just finally gave out on me and I'm in the middle of a random neighborhood because I decided today, out of all days, to take a random shortcut!"

"Send me your location, and I'll get my tools and meet you over there," they say and you can already hear them moving around on the other end of the line. You wish you could protest but, the more you look at your car, the more panic fills your body. So you simply let out a quiet "okay" before hanging up.

Though your hands nervously shake, you can open your text messages and send Hanji a pin of your exact location. It isn't too far from your house, maybe five minutes if you speed up, and that knowledge only adds more fuel to your frustration. "Why now? I could have easily pulled into my driveway before you gave out!" You can't help the angry grunt that leaves your throat as you slam your hand against the steering wheel.

The waiting time seems like an eternity, an eerie feeling in the back of your mind like you are being watched. Your eyes dart to your phone, half convinced that maybe you should just call a toll truck when you see the headlights of Hanji's motorcycle as they speed down the road.

The light from the post shines above them and you can barely distinguish if they are an angel or a real person. As soon as their bike is parked behind your car, you exit the vehicle, running towards their embrace.

Their hair is still messy from having a helmet on and they hold a small toolbox with their left hand, but that does not stop them from hugging you as tightly as they possibly can. Their lips press against your head as the two of you remain like that for a while.

"Shhh, it's ok, my love," you can feel the smile in their voice, a gentleness like nothing you have ever experienced before, "Hanji is here to fix your problems."

"I truly appreciate you coming this fast," you whisper against their chest, "I genuinely thought my car would be able to handle the journey today but… I guess I was wrong."

"Did you have any trouble starting it this morning?" They pull back, their arm still wrapped around your frame. You think for a second, having trouble focusing on anything other than this panicky feeling in your chest.

Slowly, you begin to remember your day: you left work and the car started. You left for lunch and the car started. Clearly, it had started when you left home that morning… Didn't it?

"Oh shit…" You whisper while an embarrassed expression takes over your features. Your eyes shift towards the ground as you pull slightly further away to create a bigger distance between your bodies, too self-conscious to even look at them. "I couldn't get the engine to turn this morning. I had to start it, put it in neutral, and then start it again."

They nod, kissing your forehead once more as they stand in front of the hood of your car. You are still too embarrassed to look but you can hear the moment their toolbox touches the ground and as their hands pop it open. A few seconds go by as they begin tinkering with the metal inside, though your knowledge of cars isn't deep enough for you to fully understand what is going on.

You cross one arm against your chest while the other rests above your hand, your index finger tapping on your cheek while you can't help but take small nibbles on your thumb's nail. The anxiety inside of your chest never dissipates, nor the shame.

The morning had been nothing but a blur. You woke up late for work, forgot to eat or even bring anything to snack on until you had time to go to lunch, spilled water all over your car, and, to top it all off, it was raining in the morning. The engine not starting was just one of the many, many things that had gone wrong. You meant to text Hanji about it so they could meet you during your work hours and fix it but, of course, you forgot to charge your phone the night before.

You close your eyes and exhale, leaning against the car. Before you can get yourself into a frenzy, you hear Hanji's gentle voice pulling you out of the dark spiral you were about to send yourself into, "Okay, good news and bad news."

"Please explain it to me like I'm five," you say, shooting them an exhausted look and it causes them to chuckle quietly. "Bad news first."

"The alternator, or thing that charges your car battery, isn't properly working for some reason. Maybe because it's old, maybe it's faulty, but it for sure will not start working again, like, that thing is dead."

You nod, surprisingly following along with what they are telling you. You realize that all this knowledge comes from the previous times they have come to your aid or maybe from all the times they would check under the hood of your car before you left their house while the two of you still lived in separate households. Regardless, you turn your attention to them once more.

"I checked the fluid and the coolant and everything seems to be full and working ok. I ran some codes and nothing out of the ordinary popped up and lastly, I checked your oil." They say, wiping the grime out of their hands with a bleached towel, their face slightly sweaty, especially around the area where their glasses sit on their nose.

"Fuck… And the good news?" You ask, biting your nails even more, almost to the point of blood. With a gentle and concerned expression, Hanji takes a few steps forward, wrapping their dirty digits around your trembling palms, and only then do you notice just how short your nails have become.

"I can easily fix it. The last one we bought still has a warranty, so I can just change them." They whisper, placing a kiss against your fingers. A sense of despair fills your body again as tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, your lip trembling as you speak in a quiet yet pathetic voice.

"Please, don't leave me alone."

They sigh, running their hand over their messy hair. They look over to the open hood of your car and around the neighborhood, trying to think about what the best choice would be in this situation.

"The store is fifteen minutes away, on my bike, I'll be back in - "

"Please, don't leave me alone!!" You beg desperately, whatever is left of your fingernails now digging into the skin of their biceps, your eyes are wide open as tears stream down. You weren't that upset about the car breaking down, but just the intensity of all the feelings you had been holding back finally caught up to you the moment you realized you would have to be without them for even a second.

Hanji is taken aback by how sudden your response is, and how desolate you sound. They can see the anxiety written all over your features and it causes their heart to ache in their chest. That's the moment in which they realize just how many feelings you have been bottling, just how bad your week has been, and just how you have refused to talk to them about it.

Almost like they gain consciousness, their arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer to their body. In exchange, you bury your head on their chest, not carrying that their shirt is now covered in grime and sweat, even if it is chilly outside. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" They whisper, their lips pressed against the top of your head.

You want to shake your head, to put your walls up once more and brush it off as "just a bad day", but it was more than that. It had been a bad week, a bad month, and you had gone through it all by yourself, in silence. Crying in the shower but still putting on a smile when around them, your appetite barely exists but you still eat all of their cooking. But before you can deny anything, the tears begin pouring down your face once more, you cling to them like they are the last life vest on a sinking ship.

“I d-don’t know what is going on with me…” You gasp, hiding your face in a mixture of shame and search for comfort. “I just… I just want to be close to you at all times, I just never want to be alone and I just… Everything is too much and not enough, everything is going wrong. I…”

“My love,” they whisper, holding you slightly tighter with one arm. With their free hand, they prop up your chin, a gentle and warm smile taking over their lips once your eyes meet. “You don’t have to suffer alone, ok? I am here for you, no matter what, when, or where. I will always be by your side.”

“Good and bad?” You sniffle and they chuckle softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes as they lean down so their forehead is touching yours. They nod.

“Good and bad, my angel…” They whisper, their eyes closing as your noses brush together. You lean closer, your lips brushing against theirs so lightly that it nearly feels like a paint-filled brush against a canvas, working its way through a halfway-painted masterpiece.

Hanji gently presses your body against the car door, their grip on your waist is tight as they make sure to keep you safely in place. Your lips are half-open, temptingly wet in the dim light of the street pole, your face is stained with silent tears and the only thought going through their head? “I really need to kiss her.”

And so they do. They lean forward ever so slightly until there is no more room between the two of you. When your lips collide, you can’t help the quiet gasp that exists in your body, your hand gently resting on their cheek while your thumb brushes against the softness of their skin. 

You get lost in the warmth of their body, in how comforting it feels to have them pressed against you like this. Your nose brushes against theirs as your head tilts slightly to the side, the faint smell of coffee and menthol cigarettes still lingering on their breath as it mixes with the scent of the gum you had in your mouth earlier.

They nibble on your tongue gently, sometimes brushing the tip of their own against it and it’s enough to cause you to nearly melt in their arms. If it wasn’t for their strong arms holding you in place, you would have fallen to the ground into a puddle underneath their feet.

Neither of you wants to pull away, but the need to breathe is becoming stronger by the second. When you separate, your forehead rests against theirs, and your eyes remain closed as you enjoy the smell of their skin. Even if it isn’t a pleasant smell, it brings you too much comfort in this moment for you to care.

“I’ll call Moblit and he can come to help, ok?” They whisper, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You nod, lacing your fingers with the ones on their left hand while they pull their phone out of their pocket with the other. "I'll send him to the store and I will stay with you. You won't be alone, I promise."

As they speak to the man on the other end of the line, you can’t help but allow a small smile to form on your lips as you think about how lucky you are to have someone like them in your life. Someone willing to stop everything at the drop of a hat to come to rescue you when you need them most. 

As they blow you a kiss, you find yourself thinking about that one specific sentence once more, realizing that no truer words had ever been spoken:

“Hanji is here to fix all your problems.”

[peterm4rker]

(❆⋆.˚) little white lie !

⋆ 𐙚 ⭑.ᐟ [mark x reader] ...୨♡୧... wc. 2.8k w. cursing, lmk if you find any! fluff ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

this christmas you were undoubtedly, royally fucked.

it had all started very innocently, a white lie to get your family off your back once and for all. but then it snowballed to create one big, ugly snowman to personally hunt you all through winter. it was because of him that you chewed at your nails nervously as you looked at the text that reflected on your screen, your cousin’s name adorning the top of the chat.

you should invite your bf to go christmas shopping with us! i'm sure k will be happy to have someone to talk to :)

fuck.

the text was nothing but friendly and well intended, there was just one tiny little problem. you did not have a boyfriend to invite. you tried to come up with an excuse, but you had unfortunately used every single valid thing that you could’ve thought of to get your nonexistent boyfriend off of all the family activities he was invited to.

“what are you making your fingers bleed for?” mark, your best friend, asked as he approached your body on the couch, holding two mugs of tea. once he placed them on the coffee table, he reached for your hand and moved it from your lips down to your lap as he always did to prevent you from harming yourself. 

“my cousin wants me to invite my boyfriend to celebrate christmas with my family” you groaned, your hands going up to rub at your eyes in frustration. 

mark’s eyebrows furrowed as he heard you speak “what boyfriend?”

and that’s when it downed on you, the fact that you had never told mark about your little white lie. you thought of ways to avoid the question, wracking your brain to find something to say other than “you actually, i've been lying to my family for months to get them off my back and they think you’re my very beloved and devoted boyfriend.” but you knew he wouldn’t leave it alone until he knew the truth, also, you had never been able to lie to mark.

“you” you muttered, face still behind your hands as you tried to pretend this wasn’t happening.

“huh?” mark asked incredulously, causing you to look from in between your fingers at his dumbfounded expression “come again?”

you took a deep breath before speaking again, finally moving your hands down and meeting his eyes. “a few months ago, at seollal i told my family i had a boyfriend because they wouldn’t stop pestering me about it and when they asked me who it was i couldn’t think of any other name but yours” 

mark ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the knowledge that his name was the first one to pop into your head when you had to make up a fake boyfriend, looking at you with wide eyes “dude! that's like almost a year ago! why didn't you tell me?”

“i know! but it wasn’t supposed to last this long or be this important, you had no reason to know” you explained, notably stressed as you ran a hand through your hair “i’m sorry, okay?”

“what on earth are you sorry about?” he questioned, even more confused than before.

“i shouldn’t have used you like that” you muttered, your voice sounding way softer than before as you looked down to your hands, beginning to pick at the skin again.

mark’s heart shrinked about three sizes as he watched you, feeling guilty for making you think he was mad about that. “i’m not mad at you” he reassured, taking your hand in his to make you stop your nervous reaction. “i’m just saying that if you had told me i could’ve helped you”

you lifted your eyes to stare into his, eyebrows furrowing slightly “help me how?”

“i don’t know, i could’ve acted like your boyfriend or something,” he shrugged, smiling now that your eyes had found his.

“you would do that?” you asked, your lips forming a smile instinctively at the sight of his own.

“of course i would, bro” he squeezed your hands softly before letting go of them, trying his hardest not to show how difficult it was for him to let go. 

“would you want to come christmas shopping with my cousin and her boyfriend, then? if we go to that she can confirm you’re real and prevent my parents from sending me into a psych ward for making up a guy” you chuckled softly, a little nervous. 

“for sure, i wouldn’t want my best friend to be sent away like that” he joked and bumped your shoulder with no strength. “just let me know when and i’ll even pick you up”

“she said on the 17th” you couldn’t contain your smile as you jumped forward, enveloping him in your arms “thank you so much, markie”

the boy prayed that you couldn’t feel the way his heart was racing at the contact. even when you were always a touchy person, he couldn’t help but get flustered whenever your body came in contact with his. “of course, ynnie.”

…

“okay, let's discuss boundaries” you spoke as you got into his car. the day of your first mission (as he liked to call it) had finally arrived, and he had picked you up just as he had promised. “we need to make it realistic, but i don’t want you to be uncomfortable so i think no kissing is obvious” you presented as he began driving.

“sure, yeah” he agreed, deciding that telling you that kissing you would not make him uncomfortable at all would be a little weird.

“anything you want to add?” you asked as you looked at his side profile, a smile on your lips as you stared at him.

“nah, we’re good” he looked at you for a second before turning back to the road.

the rest of the drive was filled with laughter and chaos as always, you two only settling down when he parked the car at the entrance of the mall. you looked around for a few seconds until you found your cousin and her boyfriend standing by their car. 

“okay, they’re over there” you pointed out “ready, boyfie?” you asked with a humorous tone lingering in your voice.

“so ready, sweetheart” he smiled and got out of the car, moving quickly to open your door for you. you smiled and rolled your eyes in amusement at how hard he was trying before beginning to walk towards your cousin. 

you greeted her excitedly, then moved on to greet her boyfriend. you had known him for years, and were quite friendly with him. “guys, this is mark, my boyfriend” you smiled as you introduced them.

mark almost screamed at how being introduced as your boyfriend made him feel, even if it was fake “hey guys, nice to meet you” he smiled as he extended his hand towards the girl, shaking it politely.

time passed as you walked around the mall, your attention mostly on your cousin as you caught up after too long of not seeing each other, your respective ‘boyfriends’ walking a little behind as they carried your bags.

“she talks about you a lot, you know” yudai said as he caught mark looking at you adoringly, taking advantage of how you couldn’t see him.

“she does?” mark asked, tearing his eyes away from the back of your neck to look at the man walking next to him.

he nodded at his question, smiling at how the younger boy seemed so excited to know his girlfriend talked about him. “she always goes on about how much you take care of her and how funny you are, you make her really happy.” and right then and there, mark knew he made a horrible mistake when he said he would help you. there was no way his heart would come out untouched.

before he could open his mouth to answer, you stopped walking and settled by his side “what are you two talking about?”

“nothing, don’t worry about it,” mark smiled, hugging your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. the action took you by surprise, but you settled on his side anyways.

… 

“my parents want to meet you,” you told mark as you sat in front of him in a restaurant you had gone to for lunch. “they got jealous because my cousin met you first.”

mark chuckled softly as he finished eating, shaking his head at the comment “and when are we supposed to meet them?”

“we could go to their house for dinner today, get it over with so you don’t have to keep pretending anymore, if you’re okay with missing hyucks contest, of course.” you shrugged, trying to act disinterested as you tried to figure out why those words didn’t sit right with you.

“uhm, yeah sure” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes like it always did.

“everything okay?” you asked, tilting your head curiously. “we don’t have to miss it if you don’t want to”

“no, it’s okay, i’m just kinda nervous to meet your parents” he shrugged, attempting to not show the disappointment it caused him to think of your whole charade being over.

“don’t worry, markie, they’ll love you” you gave him a reassuring smile and suddenly all the negative feelings left his mind.

a couple hours later, mark stood next to you in front of your parent’s door, extremely nervous. it didn’t matter to him that he wasn’t your actual boyfriend, he really wanted your parents to like him.

“It's okay, they’ll believe the whole thing” you attempted to reassure him, only making him worse at the reminder that you had no reason to be nervous. you were planning the fake break up already anyways. his thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of fingers tangling with his “they’ll love you.”

and the way your eyes looked at him with such sureness that he couldn’t help to feel like everything would be okay as long as you stood by his side. 

he waited for you to let go of his hand as the door opened, but it never happened. he squeezed it softly as he greeted your parents, making sure to shake their hands with his free one, wanting to hold on for as long as he could.

the night flowed perfectly as your parents practically fell in love with the boy you had brought home. it was weird, really, to be sitting there as mark told them a story about how he got lost at a mirror maze once and ended up at the hospital. he looked so pretty, smiling away as he used his abilities to charm your parents.

but you couldn’t be thinking of that, because it was all fake. he was just doing you a favor, and you couldn’t forget that for a single second or it would be bad.

“anyways, your daughter here made fun of me for about three months straight” he said, swooping your hands to lace his fingers with yours.

“i took care of you, though,” you retorted, laughing softly as you tried to defend yourself.

“true, you did,” he smiled as he brought your hands to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of yours before diving right back into his conversation.

damn, he was a really good actor.

“you should come to christmas dinner this year” your father suggested as the four of you stood on the doorway.

“i don’t know if he can, dad, he has plans already” you said “right?” you looked at mark, silently hoping that for some miraculous reason he would say no.

“i do” of course “but i’ll gladly cancel them if you want me to be here.” oh?

you looked at him with confusion written all over your face. was he really willing to cancel his plans to play pretend boyfriend with you in christmas?

“let’s talk about it later, yeah?” you asked, looking at him breathlessly. had he always looked at you like he would be willing to give you his world on a silver platter?

the boy nodded before turning back to your parents, greeting them politely before you walked towards his car. the ride back to your apartment was silent, the only sound coming from the radio.

“you don’t have to come, you already canceled on your friends today” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you broke the silence.

“i don’t mind, i’ve spent every christmas with them since i was fifteen.” he mumbled back, afraid to speak too loud in the ambiance you had created. 

“and you would rather break that streak to be with my family?” you questioned, your heart racing slightly at how soft his voice was.

“i would rather break it to spend it with you.” he retorted, and you felt your heart miss a couple of beats as he pulled into the driveway.

“i’ll see you on the twenty fourth, then” you smiled, doing little to hide how endeared you were to his words.

“i’ll pick you up, sweetheart.” he smiled back, nearly making you giggle as you got out of the car.

…

it was finally christmas day, and mark was terrified as he waited for you to walk out of your apartment building so he could drive you both to your parents’ house where he would meet your entire family as your (fake) boyfriend.

“oh, wow” he muttered as he finally saw you. the cozy winter outfit you wore nearly made him faint “you look beautiful”

you bit your flustered smile back as you looked him up and down, taking in how handsome he looked. “you don’t look too bad yourself.”

he thanked you before opening your car door for you, something he had picked up on those last few weeks of pretend dating, allowing himself to look at you for a couple more seconds before closing the door.

“i have to say, with the amount of gossip i’ve heard about your family, i think i'm extremely prepared for tonight” he bragged as he drove towards your destination.

“shut up and drive,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.

the night had gone by better than you expected. your entire family was mesmerized by the boy, and you couldn't help the pride that made your chest swell at the sight of him laughing with your uncles on the other side of the room.

“you really were whipped, aren’t you?” your younger cousin asked as he sat down next to you.

you looked at mark for a couple more seconds before tearing your eyes away from him “yeah” you said, almost breathlessly “i am”

the boy made a disgusted expression, eliciting a soft giggle to tumble past your lips. “he is too, he told me”

wait, what?

“he did?” you asked, unable to hide the surprise that coated your voice. 

“yeah, why are you surprised?” the boy judged “haven’t you been dating for like a year?”

“yes, it’s just a little surprising still” you chuckled awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“it shouldn’t be, look at how he looks at you” he pointed towards mark, making you look his way. your eyes caught his immediately, betraying the secrecy of his loving stare.

your breath hitched on your throat as mark didn’t look away from you. “sorry, i´ll be back in a minute” you muttered before standing up and walking towards mark. “mind if i steal him for a minute, thanks” you smiled as you grabbed his hand and dragged him away to an empty hall.

“hey, ynnie, whats up?” he asked as you stood in front of him. there was a lovesick smile adorning his face, along with a look you recognized from the night he met your parents.

“maki told me you told him you're whipped for me” you blurted out, and mark’s smile only widened.

“i did” he assured.

“because it would reveal our act if you didn’t” you stated, more for yourself than for him.

“or because i am” he commented, a hand coming up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“what?” you asked, astonished at the words that had just left his mouth.

“look up for me really quick, will you?” he asked, his voice sounding like honey and only confusing you further. you still looked up, heart stopping at the sight of a mistletoe hanging right on top of you.

you looked back at mark, at his beautiful eyes and his even more beautiful smile and you just couldn’t take it anymore. your hands found place behind his neck as you stood on your tippy toes, joining your lips together in a kiss you both had waited a little too long for.

mark’s hands made their way to your waist, pulling you closer as he felt relief all through his body.

there was no way that was fake.

𐙚 blue's corner ;; i couldn't make a series and not put mark in it, we all know this. this is part of the love actually series that i'm doing with both of my blogs ! 𐙚 taglist ;; @neozon3nha @winwintea @spacejip @dudekiss3r @yizhrt @lyvhie @morkiee @astrasng 𐙚 back to the masterlist. 𐙚 please do not copy, adapt or steal any of the content !!!

© peterm4rker, 2024

[northopalshore]

Northopalshore's

Union predictions & analysis

♀ This is just a short analytical post. I wanted to apply my knowledge onto my own chart to be used as an example of how to read your placements. I'll link my general guides under this post for you to refer to & try to interpret yours on your own as well. alt title;

(Deconstructing the natal union and how it affects the Union persona chart)

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧Union in the natal chart

Are the general circumstances of meeting your spouse, the first contact where both start getting aquainted 1st hand with each other whether online or not.

My union asteroid is in Libra (°26 Taurus) in the 8th house. I'll likely meet my FS through some sort of service ( I'm likely the one providing said service). While I'm at home. You can look at my parents' example here.

I'll likely meet him online as everything points to meeting through some sort of research or study based (i.e involving technology or knowledge) service which could mean something related to the occult? Since I own an astrology (occult) blog. It could be related to me doing something new as well here. Perhaps finally offering paid services?

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ Union in the Union persona chart

Is your first face-to-face meeting or first date. The first time you both get together in real life or romantically.

In my Union persona chart, the sun (natal union) is in the 11th house, conjuncting Jupiter (°28 cancer) in Libra.

Neptune is in Aquarius (°14 Taurus) the 3rd house in retrograde which means talking online a lot. There may be some communication issues at first, finding it a bit difficult to navigate our conversations without seeing each other. Could be different languages too. Literally video calls & texts as the main source of communication.

Union in the Union persona chart is in Scorpio (°14 Taurus) in the 12th house. The first time I'll meet my FS face-to-face will be in a foreign country (involving distant travelling), likely at his house as a first date. It's going to be a private & intimate meeting which is slightly taboo or risky ( I mean who tf would fly over just to meet a stranger at their house??? I would appearantly.) Our dates may mostly be indoors or somewhere with less people around and there won't be anyone with us besides each other.

Ex 1: I have a friend who has her union in the union PC in Leo (°24 pisces ) in 12th house. The first time she met her fiance face to face was at his state (she had to fly to him to meet for the first time). They both met up at a public place & their dates were mostly somewhere with a lot of people & fun things to do i.e arcades, the cinema, the market, the beach & even malls.

Ex 2: Her union persona chart sun (natal union) is in Gemini (°17 Leo) in the 10 house. The MC is in an Aries (°13) degree. She first met him online while doing TikTok live (entertaining people but also putting herself out there).

The significance of asteroid Briede & Groom in the union persona chart;

it shows you what you and your spouse will be doing when you first met. What you're doing right to the point of when you meet them or heard or them.

My Groom is in the 4th house in the Union persona chart. It's in Aries (°6 Virgo) in retrograde. My FS will likely at be at home (or at his hometown ) when he first "meets" me (online), he could be looking for something that day (retrograde) or doing something that he normally does or have been pushing back from doing for a while. He could be searching for something related to himself (placements?).

My Briede is in the 10th house. It's in Virgo (°28 cancer). I'll likely be working on a passion project that is beneficial for my career or just my "job". I will be at home or a place of comfort, doing something I would usually do i.e tend to my blog. For me, it's just another day planning a post or something. Doing something I usually do, researching in the comfort of my own home.

Ex 1: My mom has Briede in the 8th house in Capricorn (°6 Virgo) & Groom in the 11th house in Taurus. She had just started working at my father's hometown as a banker when they first met. A coworker introduced her to a guy who took long-distance driving commissions (that was my dad!). He was working when he met her, & she was at a new town for work.

Ex 2: My friend (same friend from earlier) has Briede in her 8th house in Taurus (°4 cancer) & Groom in the 4th house in retrograde. It's in Sagittarius (°14 Taurus). Both of them were at home when they met. So for starters, she was bored because she had just finished her studies & was waiting for a call back from uni. She decided to try something new (TikTok live) for fun but she also received a lot of "gifts" and treated it as sort of a side hustle lmao. Her fiance wasn't an active watcher, but he had a friend who did & showed her account to him. He was immediately interested and asked his friend to contact her for him lmao. He is from a different state than her.

Theory & speculation

My prediction of how it's going to go down would be that my FS may be a regular or a passive reader on my blog. He may go through my archive to see what I have to offer ( intellectually). If he's anything like me, he can read both the intention & " reach" certain people have. So he'll likely be stalking the blog in a way. I can't tell when he'll find it but when he does, he will do a bit of his own "research" on it. Down a rabbit hole if you will. Either that or he'll have a friend say "yo check this out" then spiral from there.

It's also a prediction, since if my calculations are correct then I'll see it manifesting in the later half of 2025. Which makes sense when looking at my 2026 SRC, there will be a lot of travelling for me that year which could be related to seeing my FS & 2027 is when Jupiter enters my 7th house in virgo. I have a feeling this post will be brought up again in the future. Looking at my chart, the progression seems to go like this

2025 meeting FS> 2026 dating period/ possible proposal> 2027 proposal & or wedding. It's quite quick lmao, but I guess we'll see. Besides, it pretty much lines up with my natal boda in aries.

It may feel or look rushed to you, but it makes a lot of sense for me. Boda is also in the 2nd house with a Virgo (°18) degree, so it's not a "reckless" marriage either.

There's a lot more information I can dig, but I'll save it for another day.

Wait a minute... Don't tell me he'll find me through reading a stolen post about him from me on TikTok??? Omg.

˚₊‧꒰ა paid readings available ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Links; My union Masterlist

@northapalshore

@northopalshore union persona chart 2024 all rights reserved. Disclaimer

[fyodere]

omegle sexting with Fyodor. ♡

midnight confessions.

“ I hope nobody catch us

but i kinda hope they catch us ”

— LES

﹙ 🦇 ﹚── parings: fyodor dostoevsky x fem!reader ♡

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), college!au, fyodor is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a freshman, fyodor uses the pseud ghost face online, light corruption kink, sexting, petnames, degradation, fyodor is a sadic, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic, implied catholic guilt, fyodor is a creep perv ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Why you were still awake? It was the middle of the night, and the student dormitory rested in the silence of the moonlit hours. However, your insomnia and a restless curiosity propelled you into the vastness of the internet. Your idea was curious but fitting for the moment. You decided to venture into anonymous chat sites, just like you used to do in your adolescence. Maybe that would be enough to make you sleepy.

Of course, there was a chance you would encounter a creep in those forums. But at this point, who cared? The night was incredibly boring; you needed to take the risk, needed to seek excitement.

﹙ 🩸 ﹚── author's note : GUESS WHOS BACKKK i wrote this listening to my late night texts playlist so the content here is JUICYYY i can’t get enough of pervy fedya content so HERE I AM also i had the idea to write this thanks to this one fyodor fanart i hope you enjoy it <3

2:27 am

 

You huffed, pulling your blanket up to your nose. You turned, in an act of courage, to your clock, hoping you had seen the time wrong. But no. Oh, no! It was still the middle of the night. Your body was exhausted, but your mind was racing, processing many thoughts that could cross your mind.

 

You shouldn't be awake. It was late at night, and college life was wearing you out. Amidst books and assignments, you found yourself immersed in a sea of responsibilities that seemed never-ending. The dark circles under your tired eyes betrayed the sleepless nights and quick naps during classes. But on that night, even though you knew you needed rest, something kept you awake. Perhaps it was the anxiety about the unfinished final project, or the feeling that time was slipping through your fingers. Lying in bed, you wondered if sacrificing your sleep and health for academic success was worth it. In the silence of the night, you reflected on your choices and questioned if this was truly what you wanted for your life.

 

In the quiet of the room, the faint moonlight revealed a common scene: scattered notes, open books, and tired eyes staring at the ceiling. No one should be awake at that hour. Not your senior, Dazai, or Atsushi. And even if they were awake, who are you to disturb them? Amid tight deadlines and academic pressure, you navigated through the nighttime challenges, seeking balance between dreams and reality. As the hours passed, reflections on the price of knowledge intertwined with the desire to overcome the limits imposed by fatigue.

 

You looked around your room; it was a mess. You sighed again, letting the air oxygenate your brain, begging for a bit of patience. Then, with a head full of thoughts, you had an idea.

 

You stealthily walked to your small desk, where your laptop was. You picked it up and took it to bed, lying down comfortably and turning on the monitor, letting the screen light up your room.

 

Why you were still awake? It was the middle of the night, and the student dormitory rested in the silence of the moonlit hours. However, your insomnia and a restless curiosity propelled you into the vastness of the internet. Your idea was curious but fitting for the moment. You decided to venture into anonymous chat sites, just like you used to do in your adolescence. Maybe that would be enough to make you sleepy.

 

Of course, there was a chance you would encounter a creep in those forums. But at this point, who cared? The night was incredibly boring; you needed to take the risk, needed to seek excitement.

 

The computer screen became your window to the unknown. You saw each conversation as a calculated risk, a word game unfolding in the cyber twilight. Amid anonymous profiles and shared stories, You navigated between fascination and caution, aware of the thin boundaries separating adventure from recklessness.

 

In the early morning, where the boundaries between the real and the virtual fade, you became a solitary explorer, guided by curiosity and drawn to the digital enigmas the night revealed.

 

You shouldn't be awake. In the stillness of the night, you decided to venture into the depths of the internet, exploring the nightly dangers hidden in virtual shadows. Alone in your room, the faint light of the monitor revealed your curious expression and a glint of audacity in your eyes. Navigating through chat rooms and forums, you connected with strangers, engaging in conversations echoing secrets and unknown stories.

 

Cautious but driven by the quest for new experiences, you explored this digital world on the fringes of convention. The keyboard keys echoed in the silence, creating a fragile link with distant strangers. Each typed word carried a hint of mystery and vulnerability as you danced on the tightrope between curiosity and the risks hidden in the cyber darkness.

 

Amid digital shadows, you found a strange sense of freedom, challenging the boundaries of the unknown in an attempt to break the monotony of the night.

 

However, behind the screen, uncertainty loomed like a constant shadow. You, intoxicated by virtual adrenaline, realized that the price of nocturnal boldness on the internet could be high. Caution became a necessary ally as you navigated the turbulent waters of virtual relationships, aware that not everything shining in the darkness is safe.

 

Yet, curiosity and the thirst for something exciting flowed in your veins.

 

You entered another forum, using a random nickname for identification. No one needed to know it was you. Eager to start a conversation, you initiated the chat.

 

You: well well, what’s up?

 

I didn’t took long to the stranger reply.

 

Stranger: You know what? Nothing much. Just killing some time talking to strangers. You just can’t sleep, huh?

 

You: yeah. always come here?

 

Stranger: Not always, but enough to recognize the other regular people chatting here. You must be new.

 

You: oohh smooth ;) how did you know?

 

Stranger: You can recognize a newbie a mile away. No one talks this open and nice.

 

Stranger: You seem to have caught my attention. What is your name?

 

You: you mean my real one?

 

You: mhmm… isn’t dangerous tell my name online?

 

Stranger: Smart girl.

 

The simple praise made you cover your mouth with your hands, you were blushing.

 

Stranger: Ahh, I like this one. You see, you are right, the internet is dangerous, but we, people who frequent those websites, are even more dangerous.

 

Stranger: but I can find your location in one hour, so what is the harm to give me your name, sweetheart?

 

You: playing dangerous, hm? I like that ;)

Then you told him your name.

 

Stranger: Ah? Cute name, fits such cute creature.

Stranger: You can call me Ghost Face for now.

 

You let out a nasal laugh. How could he be so cheeky?

 

You: im glad that you like it, pretty boy

 

Stranger: Pretty boy, huh? If people could hear you, they might think that I am some kind of lady magnet.

 

Stranger: Maybe I shouldn’t be enjoying this so much.

 

You: Oh? Why not, Ghost Face?

 

Stranger: Ah, you are such a tease. I can’t imagine what secrets you are hiding, but now, I am even more interested in you. What a dangerous girl.

 

Stranger: Flatter me more, pretty girl. I'll play along with your mind games for some more time.

 

You chuckled, feeling your cheeks warm again. Whoever was behind that screen, that person knew how to get reactions out of you.

 

You: mmm… smooth, yeah?

 

Stranger: You little vixen.

 

Stranger: You know it. But, to my surprise, you might be smoother than a snake. I wonder how many guys you make blush?

 

You: ah, not that many. I’m pretty lonely at college

 

Stranger: Lonely at college? Now that is surprising. I thought that you should have boys chasing you. You must be really shy, huh?

 

You: uhhh kinda…

 

You: you’re a good people reader

 

Stranger: You know, I really do like your attention. You are really making my night, pretty girl. And don't worry, I'm not a people reader. But I am really good at reading you.

 

You: smooth as always, Ghostie, hm?

 

You: Ghost, are you in college too?

 

Stranger: Yeah.

 

Stranger: I major computer science and work remotely.

 

You: really?

 

You: tell me more about you work

 

Stranger: Well, to be totally honest with you, it is a shady kind of job. I work with some not so nice people with even nastier interests.

 

You: ah… so Ghost Face is a bad boy, huh? tell me more about it

 

Stranger: You caught me, pretty girl. I am a bad boy, not going to deny it. I do all kind of thing related to computers and technology. Things that many would consider illegal.

 

Stranger: Let's just say I help people getting information that should stay hidden.

 

You: mhmmm… that explains why are you so smooth

 

Stranger: Thank you, pretty girl. I like the way you compliment me. You are really making my night, you know? Would you like to know the other reason I am smooth?

 

You: yeah? tell me, Ghostie

 

Stranger: Damn. You really do want to hear it, don’t you? I know you are very innocent right now, but be careful of what you wish for. You might not be ready for what you are going to hear.

 

Stranger: You know, in a world of deception, people like me find it hard to trust someone. But I trust, for some weird reason, you. So there is one important question that I want you to answer. It will be an important step to show me how much I can trust you.

 

Stranger: Do you have a boyfriend?

 

You: no ;)

 

You: mhmmm… it’s kinda late

 

Stranger: Yes, it is late, and you have no excuse for your misdeed. If I was your boyfriend I would never let you be alone when it is this time. You would be with me all night, in my room. You would not be up late talking to strangers on anonymous sites.

 

You: oh, Ghost… you’re making me soaked, mm?

 

Stranger: Oh, darling, is it starting to feel hot between us? You know what I would do if I was your boyfriend in this very moment?

 

You: mhmmm… tell me

 

Stranger: You want to know? Well, darling, first, I would whisper all my naughty thoughts to your ear. I would tell you all the things people would say are gross. And I would kiss you all over your body. I would make you feel good, in places you would not dare to touch.

 

You: oh, Ghost…

 

Stranger: Oh, dear, I am gonna give you attention like you deserve it. You are only my girl and I will make it very clear. I will show you the pleasures of the world so you only think of me. I will give you so much pleasure I hope you never want to leave my side.

 

You: Ghost…

 

You: I think you should give me your real number

 

You: so we can go more private yk

 

Stranger: Oh!

 

Stranger: Sure.

 

Stranger: You can call me Fyodor. ;)

 

After Fyodor sent his number, you quickly added it to your contact list and promptly began typing the next message, longing for contact with the enigmatic boy behind the screen.

 

You: Fyodor

 

You: can I call you?

 

Fyodor: Sure, I would love to hear your voice.

 

You quickly called Fyodor, who promptly answered.

 

“ … Hello?” You said slightly unsure of having called the boy.

 

Pretty girl... You are the cutest thing. Fyodor thought.

 

“Oh, oh, you sound so sweet, darling.” Fyodor said. “Your voice is soft and gentle. You sound like the kind of girl a man would want to listen to all day long. You make me feel things, sweetheart.” He said after a deep breath. “Please, can you tell me where you are right now, dear? Are you in bed?”

 

“Yeah, I am.” You replied.

 

“Please, let me know how the bed feels... Are you comfortable? Does it feel nice to have the bed all for yourself? I would love to be in bed with you...” He chuckled.

 

“Mm… my bed is pretty cozy. The college dorms are not that big, but they are pretty comfortable.” You answered.

 

“Oh, dear, this is so much better. If I was with you right now, I would want to feel your skin against mine.” Fyodor whispered the last part, leaving you in chills. “Fuck.” He whispered again. “I have to turn down, but we can keep chatting.”

 

“Okay.” You chuckled, and they got back to the text messages

 

You: I’m wearing something you might like right now.

 

Fyodor: Mhm?

 

Fyodor: Let me see.

 

You: [Photo] ;)

 

Fyodor’s eyes widened as he opened the image. It was a photo of you wearing a light pale lilac blouse that was too loose for your size. It almost covered up to half of your thigh, you weren’t using socks, leaving your legs exposed. Fyodor’s throat went dry when he saw you in that state. His face automatically became hot and his heart started to beat faster than usual. How could you have such a big effect on him?

 

Fyodor: Lord, please forgive me…

Fyodor: But, God, you’re making me feel so fucking weird…

 

Fyodor: If you were here right now, the things I’d do with you… shit, I’m definitely not seeing the gates of heaven.

 

Fyodor: I mean-

 

Fyodor: God, I’m so sorry. I typed without thinking first.

 

You: No!

 

You: It’s okay

 

You: I was kinda looking for this type of reaction. Lol.

 

Fyodor: So, my dear, you’re comfortable with this?

 

You: Yeah!

 

Fyodor typed for a while. The typing… under his contact made you anxious. What was him thinking?

 

Fyodor: Let me make you another question. Do you trust me?

 

He was typing again.

 

Fyodor: Let me take care of you tonight. it’s too bad I’m not there with you… I can’t get enough of you.

 

This time it was you the one who was left speechless. Your jaw literally dropped to the floor, you were surprised at how straightforward and bold this stranger man was.

Fyodor: But tell me, what do you like?

 

You: I don’t know… I never did it before.

 

Fyodor: Then, how about we find out together?

 

Fyodor: I want to explore your body if you’d let me. Would you?

 

You: Go ahead.

 

Fyodor: Darling, you’re such a fucking tease, you know that? We've only been talking for a few hours and I want to do the wildest things with you. You're making me think the biggest dirty thoughts, you're awakening things in me that I didn't even know could exist. All I can think of is your pretty lips around me.

 

You: Mmmm…

 

You: Now you’re making me want it too.

 

Fyodor: Dear, touch your thighs.

 

Fyodor: Gently.

 

Fyodor: God, your hair looks so silky.

 

Fyodor: I wish I could caress it as you’re on your knees.

 

You: MMM????

 

You: fuck

 

You: I would love to imagine you but I have no idea how you look like :(

 

Fyodor: Oh. Hold on, dear.

 

Fyodor: [photo] ;)

 

Your eyes widened when you opened the image. It was a mirror selfie, Fyodor had long black hair that touched his shoulders. His frame appeared to be lean and well defined. He was wearing sweatpants that highlighted his bulge. This made you salivate. Who knew the pervert from the anonymous website could be so handsome?

 

You: fuck.

 

You: you’re so— I can’t even put into words

 

You: I need you.

 

Fyodor: I need you too, dear. I crave you.

 

Fyodor: Darling, are you caressing your thighs as I requested?

 

You: uhum!

 

You: I am

 

You: but I’m feeling itchy down there… :( may you help me?

 

Fyodor: Oh, of course I will, my darling.

 

Fyodor: But first I need you to touch your beautiful exposed thighs.

 

Fyodor: You could see my hands on the picture, right? Imagine my hand on your thighs.

 

You: your hands are pretty big…

 

Fyodor: Yeah? Feel them. Feel them caressing you, gripping you, scratching you. Feels good, yeah?

 

You: you’re making me feel so itchy…

 

You: I need to touch it, Fedya :(

 

You: please

 

Fyodor: Hm? I am the one touching you, dear.

 

Fyodor: And it’s not time for it yet.

 

Fyodor: Now, put your hands on your chest.  Grip them, feel all the softness

 

You: fuck

 

You: I want to scream your name, Fedya :(

 

You: I need you.

 

Fyodor: I crave you too, my darling. Watching you like this makes me want to touch myself too… should I?

 

You: please

 

Fyodor: My dear, can I call you? I need to heat your voice again.

 

You: go ahead

 

You felt your heart race when you saw that Fyodor was calling you. You had already heard the man’s voice a few minutes ago. But now, they were more intimate than ever. You felt your body heat up as you imagined the dirty things Fyodor would say to you in a few seconds.

 

You promptly answered the phone.

 

“Dear?” Fyodor said with a husky voice. You wondered if he could hear your heartbeat.  “Now, let's get started.” He continued. “Close your eyes and imagine me touching you all over your body, running my hands over every inch of your skin.” Fyodor could hear your deep breath. “Can you feel it? The anticipation building up inside you?”

 

“Fedya…” You whispered. “Yes, I can feel it. I can feel you. God, I wish you were here with me, touching me, feeling my skin against yours.” You tried to say with more posture, but your voice was cracking with sighs and deep breaths.

 

“I can't be there with you physically, but we can still explore our desires together in long distance.” He replied. “Close your eyes and imagine my hands on your thighs, slowly moving up towards your hips.” He started to put his hands inside his pants. “Can you feel the warmth of my breath against your skin? The soft touch of my lips on your neck? Can you feel the electricity building between us?”

 

“Fuck… yes. I can. But I want you down there.”You said with your voice dripping lust.

 

“You want me down there, do you?” He asked. “I want you to imagine that I'm right in front of you, kneeling between your legs. My hands are running up and down your thighs as my lips press against the most sensitive spot on your body. Can you feel it? The heat building up inside you?” Fyodor smiled when he heard the sloppy sound coming from your line. “Just let go and enjoy the pleasure. Let me take control for a while.”

 

“I want you to take control of me, Fedya.” You said between deep breaths and dirty whispers. “To fill me.”

 

“Fuck… I want you to feel every inch of me inside you, filling you up completely.” He answered right after listening to your words. “I want you to touch yourself for me. Imagine that my hands are on your body, touching you exactly how I know you like it.” Fyodor started to caress himself, gripping his manhood. “Can you feel my touch? Can you imagine what it would be like if we were together in person?”

 

“Yes… I can imagine.” You said after a long sigh, sightly moaning. “But what about you? What are you thinking?”

 

“I'm thinking about how much I want to make you mine. I want to see you writhe with pleasure as I take control of your body and give you everything you've been craving.” He smirked.

 

“I want to squeeze you.” You confess after a long sigh.

 

"I'm already rock hard," He admits, his words tinged with desperation. "I need to fuck something, I need to fuck you, right now. I want you to imagine it inside your tight little pussy, fucking you so hard that your walls are shaking, your body trembling with pleasure and pain.”

 

“Uh, huh. Sure, everything you want, Fedya.” You said biting her lip.

 

"Good girl," He praises. "Now, I want you to rub your legs together, okay? I want you to imagine my cock in your mouth, sucking on it, and swallowing my load. You're a good little naughty girl, aren't you?"

 

“Yeah, anything for you!” You said in a more poised voice, doing as asked, becoming dizzy with the wave of pleasure that passes through your body.

 

"I knew you were a good girl," He says, ready to take things to the next level. "Now, I want you to imagine me fucking you from behind. Imagine me thrusting into your tight little pussy, claiming you as mine. It's hot, isn't it? Keep going as I request, okay?"

 

“You’re so rough… I love it.” You said between sloppy sounds and moans.

 

“Oh, dear," He groans, his words laced with arousal. "I am rough, I admit it. I like to dominate and fuck you hard, leaving you sore and begging for more. I want to make you my little bitch. I'll fuck you until you can't walk, until you can't breathe, until you're completely spent and used up."

 

“Fuck, keep going.” You were almost screaming now.

 

"You're such a good little naughty girl," He compliments, his words dripping with lust. "I'm going to fuck you so hard, so rough, that you'll feel like you've been through hell and back. I'll leave you bruised and battered, with a hole so raw that even the slightest touch will make you scream in pain. I'll fuck you until you can't take any more, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed."

 

“You want to fill me up?” You said, feeling the wave of pleasure more and more strong going trough you.

 

"Oh, yes," He grits out, his voice growing more intense. "I want to fill you up with my seed, to mark you as mine, to claim you as mine. I'll fuck you so hard that you'll never forget me, never forget what I did to you. I'll make you my slut, and I'll never let you go. I'll own you, possess you, and break you down, piece by piece, until there's nothing left but a broken shell of a woman." He tries to speak with a more husky voice.

 

“I— I’m close!” You were almost screaming, with the voice dripping lust.

 

"I'm about to cum," Fyodor warns, his breathing becoming ragged. "I want to fuck you so hard that your insides are shaking, your body trembling with pleasure and pain. I'll fuck you until you're begging for mercy, until you're too tired to even think, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed, making you my cum dumpster, my possession, and I'll never let you go. I'll own you, and I'll destroy you, piece by piece, until you're just a broken doll, a toy for me to play with."

 

“Mhmmm!” You were moaning for him, inattentive if you would be waking up your colleagues from the student dorm.

 

"I'm cumming," Fyodor whispers, his words tinged with lust and satisfaction. "I'll fuck you until you're begging for mercy, until you're too tired to even think, and then I'll make you swallow my cum, filling you up with my seed, making you my whore, my bitch and I'll never let you go.”

 

“Cum for me, Fedya” You said touching your most sensitive spot, yearning for the man’s touch on the other end of the line.

 

"Ah— fuck, I am cumming," Fyodor confirms, his words echoing with lust and satisfaction. "Here it comes," Fyodor grunts, his words filled with lust and satisfaction. "I'm cumming, imagine me shooting my load into your tight little pussy, filling you up with my seed.”

 

“F-Fyodor—! Ah—!“ You screamed, imagining everything that he said. The image of Fyodor’s cock was sent along, and as soon as it appeared in front of you, you could feel the sensations of his words rippling through you. Your heart raced with excitement and fear, and you felt yourself begin to shake from the intensity of it all. You gasped, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over your cheeks.

 

The image of his cock, thrusting into her tight little cunt, made your entire body shudder with pleasure and pain. It seemed to be penetrating you so deeply, and yet you couldn't help but crave more. His words continued to fill your mind, making you feel like a helpless little girl, unable to resist his dominance or his power.

 

"Mhmmm," He moans, his voice thick with desire as he continues to shoot his load.

 

“Fuck! This was… fuck. I— I can’t even put into words” You said between heavy breaths.

 

Fyodor chuckled softly, a sound that reverberated through their connection, sending a wave of heat and desire through your body. He knew exactly what you meant.

 

He laughed cruelly at your reaction, savoring the moment. He knew that you was struggling to find the right words to describe how you felt, and he found it amusing that you were so overwhelmed by his presence. He wanted you to feel small and vulnerable, to understand that you were nothing more than a plaything in his world.

 

He grunted again, as if it were determined to claim every last inch of you. The feeling was intense, and it only served to fuel his desire for more.

 

"Good," Fyodor grunted, his voice still filled with lust and satisfaction. "Because I want you to feel every single bit of what I'm doing to you, and I want you to understand how much I own you now.”