#and dad was like u don’t need to buy one just go outside

[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. ��I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

i am a rich man

words: 1k

warnings: misogyny, brief mention of violence, reader is a kook

a/n: im on vacation starting tomorrow monday 1/22-friday so i will not be posting any new fics for this week!

“have you decided what car you want baby?” rafe asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you scroll through the dealerships website.

“i’ve narrowed it down to two.” you tilt your phone towards rafe, letting him look at one car before navigating to the other tab to show him.

“why don’t you test drive both and decide after that? and if you like both, just buy both.” rafe shrugs. it was weird for him at first being with someone who had even more money than his family, but now he’s grown used to it, liking knowing you can support yourself if needed, even though rafe likes to buy most things for you.

“good point.” you hum. “i’d have to park one on the driveway though, my dad is only giving me one spot in the garage.” you pout. your dad has a mild obsession with sports cars, and therefore three of the four spots in the garage were already taken.

“lets not worry about it now, figure it out after you see them in person.” rafe says, and you nod, getting up off the couch to head to the dealership, glad that rafe agreed to drive you and test the cars with you, mainly because you didn’t want to spend the day without him.

it’s a long drive to the nearest dealership that had cars in your price range, but you don’t mind as you sing along to your favorite songs playing through rafes trucks speakers, always letting you be the dj even if he can’t stand some of the girly pop songs that you play.

“almost there.” rafe reaches over, squeezing your thigh as the dealership finally comes into view.

“thank god.” you groan. “my butt is starting to go numb.” “don’t talk about your butt when we are about to be in public.” rafe warns, glancing over at you as you giggle.

“sorry baby.” you say, in a voice that tells rafe that you’re not at all sorry.

“let me drop you off at the front, i’ll park the car then join you inside.” rafe says upon pulling in and realizing that there are no close parking spots, and he doesn’t want to make you walk outside for longer than he has to.

“mmkay, thanks baby.” you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, always extra appreciative and lovey on rafe when he does sweet things for you, even if its just something little.

you hop out of the truck, heading inside the main showroom of the dealership.

“hello, ma’am!” a sales associate instantly hurries over to you. “i’m john, did you have an appointment?” “no, but i’ve checked out your inventory online and i know what i’d like to test drive today.” you say with a fake smile right back, already not liking the condescending attitude that john is giving off.

“alright, well lets take a seat at my desk and you can tell me your budget.” john walks you over to his cubicle, and before he can begin talking you’re joined by rafe.

“this is my boyfriend, he’s helping me pick out a car today.” you say as he sits down next to you, reaching over and looping your fingers through his, already eyeing up john as he tries to size him up.

“hello, sir.” john smiles. “so what is your budget?” he addresses the question at rafe, making your eyebrows scrunch together.

“well,” you answer, making johns gaze flick quickly to you, “budget isn’t an issue. i know what two cars i would like to look at.”

“okay, if you just want to tell me the models i will pull them up.” john turns the computer screen so you all can see as you tell him the two cars that peaked your interest the most.

“and i assume you will be financing?” he hums. you glance at rafe, shocked that he would have the audacity to assume anything.

“no.” rafe answers for you. “in full.” “okay, that makes sense that you will be paying, sir.” john says, nonchalantly as if he didn’t just imply that you wouldn’t be able to afford the car.

“as said before, i will be the one purchasing the car, so while my boyfriend is here to help me, i am your customer.” you clear up, hand squeezing rafes as you try to hold back your anger, knowing you can get just as fired up as him.

“sorry, just don’t see many young women being able to buy cars like these outright.” he says before quickly switching the subject, going through some of the specs of the vehicles. “and the cost on that one is $94,000.”

“wait a minute.” you rub your forehead, getting tired of this mans bullshit. “while i said money was no issue, that doesn’t mean that i’m going to let you get away with scamming me. that car is worth no more than 75.” “well, ma’am, there are various-” “no.” you shake your head. “i have done my research on these vehicles and i know that ever 75 is on the high end.” “let me double check my figures.” john swallows nervously, turning the screen so only he can see it as you send a look at rafe, seeing he’s struggling just as much as you not to reach across the desk and smack the misogynistic sales associate across the face.

“my apologies, i must have accidentally selected an additional maintenance package. it is $74,000.” john says.

“that sounds much more reasonable, but i will not be purchasing a car from someone who tries to scam me out of my money just because they think i’m a dumb girl. get me a different sales associate, now.” you command.

john scurries away from the desk, the stark opposite of the cockiness air that he had when you first arrived.

“jesus, you’re hot when you’re scary.” rafe says, looking you up and down as you smirk at your boyfriend, knowing while you’re usually sickly sweet, when a man irks you wrong, it brings out your full wrath.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645

[7s3ven]

hii ! i love your writing so much so you know i had to request a luke imagine 💝

i’m thinking of a reader with a protective godly parent (your choice of which god), who is very selective on who they allow their child to date. luke has loved them for years, so one night he prays to their parent for approval. idk if you’ve watched gilmore girls, but I’m imagining the scene where dave tries to convince lane’s mom to allow her to date ! (if you haven’t seen the show, its a popular clip on tt that you could look up if u wanted)

i’m picturing fluff but could def make it angst too, so it’s whatever you want! also, i’m a fem reader, but i don’t mind gender neutral or anything like that

tysm ! ❤️

DAVE AND LANE SHOULD HAVE BEEN ENDING GAME

I LIKE ME BETTER. luke (pjo)

( master list )

IN WHICH… Luke is on a mission to prove himself to the father of the girl he loves. He’ll do anything for her hand, even if said god is asking him to do some particularly stupid stunts.

“I like me better when I’m with you.”

Warnings: drinking, smoking, and vaping mentioned

A/N: Guys… I love loser! Luke AND I KNOW YOU DO TOO. I feel like Dionysus would be the guy to put Luke through all this stuff just for his own amusement

Also, this is my little birthday gift for y’all 😽. Bc it’s my bday today 🙀

—

The first thing when you thought of a daughter of Dionysus’ was a troublemaker, one that rivalled the Stoll brothers. Maybe an alcoholic with bad habits engraved in her mind like her father.

Y/N was a total shock to the camp. How could such a sweet, kind, dazzling girl be the daughter of Dionysus? She didn’t have one mean or sarcastic bone in her body.

She was as bright as Apollo’s kids, as beautiful as the Aphrodite girls prancing around in mini skirts and small tops, and as friendly as the Demeter children who grew roses alongside her. So, it wasn’t a surprise that boys craned their heads to peek at her, something her father hated witnessing. Nobody, not one mere mortal or even a godly being, was good enough for his beloved daughter.

Dionysus held Y/N close. She reminded him of her mother, who died giving birth to her. He had already lost one important woman in his life. He wasn’t going to let history repeat itself again.

“Dad?” Y/N called out into her father’s room, wrinkling up her nose when she almost stumbled over a wine bottle rolling around. Her father was forbidden to consume alcohol but that didn’t stop him from tricking the younger campers into fetching him some.

After concluding that her father wasn’t in his quarters, Y/N took the bottle and wandered to find a bin. The trash cans were always moving around, which made it a mission to find one.

As Y/N passed by the Hermes cabin, she heard her name. She glanced over her shoulder, innocently staring at the pair of boys who were conversing outside. One was leaning against a wooden pillar while the other rested his arms against the railing of the porch.

One noticed Y/N and he nudged his friend, quickly changing their conversation topic.

Y/N recognised Luke Castellan. The Aphrodite girls loved to rave about him, about how handsome and talented he was. How they wished they could kiss him. How they wanted to be held in his arms.

He wasn’t bad looking in Y/N’s eyes, quite adorable actually. She watched as his lips curved into an amused smile as he looked at Chris and how his eyes crinkled slightly. Despite wanting to admire him, Y/N forcefully turned her head. She wasn’t allowed to date. That was one of her father’s golden rules.

She was allowed to drink, allowed to smoke, probably even allowed to go skinny-dipping in the dead of night. Her father was fine with anything as long as she wasn’t around any boys. Of course, she never did consume alcohol or take a much needed hit from a cigarette. She had seen other kids do it.

One of the Ares kids was constantly sneaking in and out of camp to buy new vapes. She had even witnessed Luke of all people, the esteemed golden boy, the role model, blow a cloud of smoke from his lips.

Y/N was always scared she was missing out but she valued her healthy lungs, which had played a part in her surviving a terrifying harpy while on her way to camp.

“She’s perfect.” Luke whispered to Chris.

“Too bad Mr D won’t let you near her.”

It was a known fact that nobody was allowed to date Y/N. She was the camp princess. The only demigod with a parents who cared enough about her to be actively involved in her life. Not even Annabeth had that kind of bond with Athena.

Luke hoped one day Dionysus would let him near Y/N. Until then, he was fine admiring her from afar because he knew no other guys could approach her either.

"You know, I heard Dionysus won't be at the campfire tonight... you could make a move." Chris nudged Luke, muttering quietly so nobody else heard him.

Luke had always been determined to be the first to sweep Y/N off her feet. This was his chance to fulfil that broad claim. He didn't know how he'd do it but when there's a will, there's a way.

All throughout the day, Luke kept close tabs on Y/N. When she was in the arena he was there too, polishing the spare swords. When she was in the garden, Luke happened to be amongst the tall grass too. And he gazed longingly at her from across the pavilion during lunch. She sat alone at her table, Dionysus nowhere in sight.

Luke's heart hammered in his chest as he slowly stood up. Chris slapped his back as a way of encouraging him but it only made his anxiety spike.

“Go get her, tiger.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Luke picked up the pace when he realized that a few other boys the same idea as his. “Hey, Y/N.” He got to her first.

She lifted her head, staring at him through her lashes. She smiled. “Hi, Luke.” She saw his eyes light up.

“You know my name?”

“I’ve been here longer than you. Plus, it’d help concerning if I didn’t know the name of the best swordsman.”

“I’m not that good.”

“You won in a 4 V 1 battle.” Y/N pointed out.

“Did I? I didn’t even notice.”

Y/N let out an amused laugh but she immediately cut herself off when she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. Luke cleared his throat, standing upright.

“Good afternoon, Mr D.” He politely greeted the god.

“Scram, Castellan.” Mr D ordered, glowering at the teenager. Luke quickly nodded and speed-walked back to his table, where Chris was trying to muffle his laughter.

“He wasn’t even flirting with me, dad.” Y/N huffed and furrowed her eyebrows. Her eyes wandered to Luke, feeling a little sorry for him.

“Stop looking at him, Y/N.” Dionysus lightly scolded her. Y/N pouted and pushed the food on her plate around with her fork.

“I wish you would let me date. I’m the only girl who hasn’t kissed someone.” She muttered, huffing.

“I will not let you date a hooligan.”

“Daddy, Luke isn’t a hooligan. He’s sweet. He’s the best swordsman in three hundred years.”

“Which means he could easily hurt you.”

“He wakes up early to go for a run.”

“Wow, the perfect set-up to cheat.”

“He’s good with kids.”

“He’ll want his own kids with you soon.”

“That last one didn’t even make sense.”

“I know a man’s mind, Y/N. Luke Castellan is a dangerous boy.”

Y/N glanced at Luke and Dionysus followed her gaze. Luke was attempting to balance a spoon on his tongue while Chris cracked up.

“Dangerous, huh? I’m absolutely terrified.” Y/N sarcastically deadpanned.

“He’s acting innocent.”

“Sure.”

Fathers always had a weird vendetta against the idea of their daughters dating. Dionysus was no different. If anything, he was worse. He was always popping up at the worst times, such as just now. He never let the attention of a boy linger on Y/N for too long, scared it would take her away from him. Perhaps he was doing it on purpose.

“It’s so unfair.” Y/N huffed as she plucked petals off a rose Silena had randomly given her. “He won’t let me date or go to the parties. I’m not even allowed to look at a boy!” Y/N groaned, leaning back in her foldable chair.

She was sitting with Silena in front of the quiet lake, watching as the wind rippled across the still water.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Silena suggested, sipping on a tall glass of whatever drink she had mixed.

“Nothing works! Someday he’ll have to let me date. He can’t stop me forever. I’m almost twenty now!”

Silena hummed before offering Y/N some pineapple juice.

“Any new gossip, though? Besides Mr D being a total cock block.”

“Well… there’s this one guy.” Y/N murmured, shyly flicking her straw around. Silena immediately sat up.

“Tell me everything!” She quickly demanded. “What’s his name? Is he cute? Can he fight?”

“He can’t fight… and he’s good-looking. He’s, uh,” Y/N diverted her gaze elsewhere, “Also a son… of Hermes.”

“Luke Castellan!” Silena exclaimed without hesitation. “I knew there was something going on when he approached her! Why haven’t you taken an interest in him before? You and him have been here for ages.”

“He had a middle part before.”

“Oh, I remember that!” Silena let out a quiet giggle as she relaxed again, kicking her feet in excitement. “Ask him out.”

“You’re forgetting one problem. My dad!”

Silena shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Make Luke prove himself to Mr D. That worked with my dad!”

“Luke proved himself to your dad?”

“No, silly! It was another boy. But if Luke wants to be seen as worthy, he has to impress Mr D!”

“I guess.” Y/N mumbled as she slowly nodded her head.

“Great. Let’s get ready for the campfire. A new Ares boy arrived and I want to see Melo flirt with him. She flirts with everyone.”

Y/N poked a large marshmallow through the skewer before shoving it into the hot flames in front of her. Silena was talking but she was too spaced out to hear a word.

Y/N aimlessly hummed and occasionally nodded her head. “Yup.” She muttered, turning her marshmallow over and watching as the soft white treat turned crisp.

“Are you even listening? I said Luke is staring at you.”

That got Y/N’s attention. She quickly lifted her head, her gaze immediately searching for the brunette. She found him amongst the Hermes kids and a few of the Aphrodite girls loitered around him. He smiled at her for a split second before his eyes flickered to Y/N’s marshmallow.

He subtly pointed at it and Y/N huffed once she realized her marshmallow had caught fire and been burnt black. “That was my last one.” She threw the skewer into the fire, allowing the hot flames to swallow it up.

“Well, you did keep eating them.” Silena pointed out.

Y/N sent her a small glare. “You’re literally eating one of my marshmallows right now. You have a whole pile sitting on your skirt!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Silena was quick to shove the rest into her mouth. “Bye!” She exclaimed but her words were muffled by the marshmallows.

“You owe me!” Y/N called out after her.

“Is Silena stealing marshmallows again?” Luke chuckled as he came to a stop in front of Y/N. He shoved his hands into his pockets whilst Y/N nodded.

“She does this every time. She’s stealing from Annabeth now!” Y/N wildly gestured over at Silena who was sweetly convincing Annabeth to hand over a few marshmallows.

“She should be notorious for being the marshmallow thief.” Luke grinned. He sat down beside Y/N, their shoulders gently brushing.

“Sorry about my dad at lunch.” Y/N blurted out. “He can be a tad… overprotective. You know how he is.”

“Well, I did see him set somebody’s clothes on fire for winking at you.”

Y/N quietly sighed. “Yeah… poor Nick. May he rest in peace.”

Luke glanced over at Nick who was guarding his marshmallows with his life. “He isn’t dead, you know.”

“Yeah, but he looked like he died back then.”

A familiar presence appeared from behind the pair and Luke immediately stiffened while Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Castellan. What are you doing talking with my daughter?” Dionysus sounded friendly yet when he slung an arm around Luke’s shoulder, he could tell the god was holding back on strangling him.

“We’re just talking about Silena and her marshmallows, daddy.” Y/N quickly piped up, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Castellan, let’s have a chat, shall we?” Dionysus dragged Luke off before either of the teens could stop him.

“Mr D, before you say anything, please don’t set me on fire! And if you do, spare my pants! These were expensive and I even got them on sale!”

“Keep your pants on, kid.” Dionysus grunted, knowing Luke was fully prepared to unbutton his jeans in order to preserve them. “What business do you have with my daughter, hm?”

Luke visibly relaxed at the idea of his jeans surviving the convention. “If it isn’t too bold to say, Mr D… I like her. A lot. I have for… years now. But I’ve always respected your wish to distance her from boys. I’ll even pray to you. I’ll give you wine. I’ll pray to you with wine and vodka and butterscotch and, uh, more wine! And grapes! Big, red grapes! Just give me a chance!”

Dionysus held up a hand to stop Luke’s aimless rambling. “You want to have a shot with my daughter?” He asked. Luke frantically nodded. “Alright. Do as I say and maybe I’ll consider it.”

Luke thickly gulped. He didn’t like that mischievous look in Dionysus’ eyes but nevertheless, he agreed. “Thank you, Mr D!”

Luke was the first camper to wake up. He reached under his bed, pulling out a large bottle of vintage wine he had been saving for this very occasion.

“Good morning, Mr D!” He cheerfully exclaimed, clearly showed the god the label of the alcohol.

“It’s worse now that you’re here.” Dionysus grumbled, yet he held out his chalice for Luke to pour him a much needed drink. Once he had gulped it all down, he turned to face Luke again. “Alright, first task, get rid of some rogue hellhound. Chiron sent me to do it but you’re more than capable, right?”

Luke was in no position to disagree.

“It’s near camp so don’t get ya knickers in a twist.” Dionysus stood up, brushing the bread crumbs off his lamp. “See ya at soon, kid. Oh, and I’ll be taking that.” He grabbed the wine bottle without a care in the world, merrily whistling to him with a small skip in his step.

“Did I just see you talking to my dad?” Y/N raised an eyebrow. Seeing her dad get along with a camper was a rare sight.

“Somewhat.” Luke muttered. “Uh, good morning? You’re up early.”

“I went out for a morning jog.” Y/N smiled as she tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “So, hell hound catching, huh?”

“Yeah- Wait, what?” Luke’s gaze snapped to stare at Y/N in slightly shock. She stifled a small laugh.

“I heard your conversation. What’s the hell hound all about?”

Luke quietly sighed. “Don’t tell your dad I told you,” He leaned forward to whisper in Y/N’s ear, “But I convinced him to let me befriend you if I did a few things for him.”

Of course, being Y/N’s friend wasn’t Luke’s main priority but it was better than nothing.

“You better get to it, then. I’m getting lonely.” Y/N laughed as she playfully punched his shoulder. He chuckled alongside her.

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon.” He calmly brushed past Y/N, his smile faltering, “If I survive this.” He muttered to himself, his hands itching to grab a sword.

Finding the hellhound wasn’t hard. Luke spotted its raven black pelt amongst the bright green bushes. It stood out like a sore thumb. It was getting rid of it that would be the problem.

As soon as Luke carelessly stepped forward, a twig snapped under his foot, the hellhound growled. It loudly barked, baring its sharp teeth at the Hermes boy. He pointed his sword at the beast, narrowing his eyes.

“I swear, if you kill me, Hades better revive me so I can date Y/N.” Luke launched forward, tackling the large dog. It howled as his sword scratched its leg. “Nice dog!” Luke nervously chuckled. The hellhound barked again, kicking Luke with its powerful back legs.

“Easy now!” Luke wheezed, the air being knocked out of him from the repetitive blows.

Luke was supposed to be the best fighter at camp. He never dared picture himself rolling across the ground, practically body slamming a hellhound as mud stuck to his orange shirt.

“Just lie still so I can score a date with my long time crush!” Luke exclaimed as he scrambled to stand up. The hellhound paused in confusion, giving Luke enough time to turn it into fine dust.

“I’m never doing that again.” He muttered to himself as he stormed past the tall trees. Dionysus was standing beside the forest, drinking the wine as he seemed to be waiting for Luke. The god pulled down his sunglasses, bursting into rambunctious laughter when he saw Luke.

“What happened to you?! You look terrible, kid!” Dionysus cackled, throwing his head back in amusement.

“You spilled some wine.” Luke muttered, unamused. His usual perfect skin was now adorned with small cuts and bruises. His shirt was covered in dirt. And his hair what probably taken the brute of the attack. Twigs and leaves stuck out of his messy curled brown locks, which caused Dionysus to snicker.

“I told you it wasn’t gonna be easy, kid. You’ll hate tomorrow’s task even more.”

Luke hated every task.

Monday’s was the hellhound. Tuesday’s little chore was to clean the girl’s bathroom. He found out then how much long hair they lost. The Aphrodite girls always complained about their hair falling out. Well, Luke had found it down the drain.

Wednesday’s shenanigan was to steal Clarisse’s beloved spear. Luke wasn’t sure how he was alive after being caught by her. Thursday was surprisingly peaceful. All he had to do was sneak out of camp to buy Mr D more wine.

It was now Friday. Luke was wondering what Mr D had in store for him today. Breakfast whizzed by as usual. A few Aphrodite girls tried to catch his attention but he was focused on Mr D whispering something in Y/N’s ear.

Luke waited patiently throughout the day to be given an idiotic task. It was lunch time when Mr D approached him.

“You finish this one, kid, and you might have my blessing.”

These words made Luke’s eyes light up. “What is it?” He demanded.

“Follow the trail in the forest, jump across some trees, do a perfect dive into the lake from the highest cliff, and swim across the water towards camp. Easy peasy.”

Luke’s small smile wavered. “You’re… joking, right?”

The blank look on Mr D’s face told Luke he wasn’t. Luke sighed. “I’ll get my towel.”

The run through the forest wasn’t so bad. As soon as Luke gave Mr D his towel, he jogged into the thick vegetation. Mr D would be waiting at the finish line for him, if he ever made it. Climbing trees was not Luke’s forte.

His palms were sweaty as he peered down below, quickly gulping at how far down the ground seemed. “I didn’t know I was this stupid.” He muttered to himself before leaping onto a nearby thick branch. He repeated the action, always barely making it and wobbling.

Small beads of sweat trickled down Luke’s forehead as he hiked up the steep hill towards the cliff under the scorching sun. He could see the small figure of Mr D on the other side of the lake.

Luke was thankful he had taken diving lessons before. With a snippet of hesitation, he gracefully jumped. He hit the cold water, shivering. It felt like small needles poking his body. Luke emerged, panting and spitting out a mouthful of water.

He heard Mr D quietly clap. “Good job, kid.”

“What?!” Luke exclaimed, still too far away to hear the god’s voice.

“I said, good job! It was a decent dive!” Mr D cupped his hands over his mouth.

Luke emerged from the lake, drenched and cold and clutching his body as he searched for some warmth.

“Dad? What’s going on here?”

Both Luke and Mr D stiffened at the sound of Y/N’s voice. “Why was Luke in the lake?”

“Mr D.” Luke cut in, “I have something to say.”

“I’m busy, Castellan.”

“You’re literally standing in front of me. That’s all you’re doing.”

“Don’t let the sassy man apocalypse take you too, Castellan.”

“I have a crush on your daughter, sir. You probably already knew that. I know you have strict rules about dating and boys. But I promise to take good care of your daughter. I’ve only smoked once to try it, I don’t drink because I’m scared it’ll make me stupid, I’ve never gotten a ticket. I’m healthy, I take care of myself, I floss for ten minutes every night and that might seem extreme but cavities are no joke. I do well in activities here and I hardly ever play the video games my siblings do in case the theory of them turning you into a psycho is true. I don’t drink coffee. I hate soda because my stomach can’t handle the carbonation. I’ll willingly eat like a cow if you don’t want me eating meat. I don’t mind wearing a suit in the hot sun. I enjoy spending limited time with Y/N and I really, really, really like her.”

Mr D was silent. Luke subtly cleared his throat. “Uh… Mr D? Please don’t make me repeat that list again.”

Mr D broke into a pattern of snickers. “To tell you the truth, Castellan, I was going to let you date my daughter ages ago. She convinced me. It was just so fun making you do stupid things.”

Luke’s face dropped. “I did all that… for nothing… Clarisse almost killed me!”

Mr D, sensing Luke’s anger, merely rolled his eyes and quickly walked off in a drunken manner. “Have fun, you too.”

“Did you really fight a hellhound?” Y/N asked.

“Yes. It ruined my Hello Kitty socks!” Luke huffed. “But I’d do it again for you. What do you say, Y/N? Will you go out with me?” Luke clasped his hands together as a way of begging.

“I feel a little sorry for you, so okay.” She pulled him into a hug. “You know you’re going to have to prove yourself to my friends now.”

Luke stiffened. “No more hellhounds. Please.”

PJO TAG LIST (FULL) : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @jennapancake @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @justanotherkpopstanlol @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @jamesmackreideswife @2hiigh2cry @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303 @luvvfromme @y0urm0m12 @mochi-lover26 @annispamz

[now-and-4ever]

OLNF Week Day 7 - Alternate Universe

Hosted by @olnfweek2024

Set during OLBA Step 1

Summer in Sunset Bird was a special time of year. The usually sleepy town began to bustle. Eight year old Qiu Lin’s parents didn’t like him to wander too far outside the neighborhood, so he knew the area pretty well. That included the people.

The familiar, friendly residents would wave, or ask him how his family was, or just say hello. Qiu ended up saying “hi” to a lot of different people, since most of the tourists that came every summer were the same ones. But today, there were two adults, a man and a woman, standing on the curb outside his house. They were talking aggressively at each other and making sharp gestures. Whoever they were, Qiu had never seen them before. One thing about knowing everyone in Sunset Bird was that people who he didn’t recognize really, really stood out. Qiu may not have known them, but he was pretty interested. He wanted to know more about what was going on.

Qiu slowly approached the two people. In a second they turned their heads and their eyes met with Qiu’s. They were now aware they weren’t alone anymore.

“Oh, hello,” said the man.

Qiu eyed them carefully. Most adults wanted to talk to his dad about renting houses in town. Was that why they were there? Qiu didn’t know where his dad was right now, but he approached the adults anyway. He was unsure about them, but offered the strangers a smile.

“Do you live here?” asked the woman. “What’s your name?”

Qiu looked them up and down. The man had really light blond hair and the woman had chestnut hair. They both had glasses and their other clothes had a serious appearance that matched their expressions. The total opposite of what you would wear for a trip to the beach. They both seemed uncomfortable talking to Qiu. Maybe they didn’t talk to children that often.

“I’m Mr. Qiu Lin! That’s Q-I-U L-I-N. My house is the one right behind you!” answered Qiu.

“So you’re Qiu,” said the man. He turned to the woman. “They were right. He looks to be about as old as Tamarack.”

“Well, that will be perfect. If we can ever find her to have them meet,” said the woman.

Qiu was confused by the two of them suddenly ignoring him. Though it wasn’t the first time he had met rude adults. Too many adults didn’t care about treating children with respect. The man seemed to realize they cut Qiu out of the loop and addressed him again.

“Qiu, we have a daughter. Her name is Tamarack Baumann. She’s around your age,” said the man, who Qiu now knew as Mr. Baumann.

Qiu’s face beamed with excitement. A kid around his age! All the kids he knew from school didn’t live anywhere close to him. Now he really hoped these two were here to look into renting a house.

Qiu’s hopes were fulfilled as Mrs. Baumann said, “We just moved into that house across the street.” She pointed a finger at a house that had been empty for a year. “We met your parents earlier and they told us about you being eight, like our daughter. She’s an excitable girl and really needs someone to help her spend her energy. Could you try being friends with our girl?”

“Please consider it,” said Mr. Baumann, “If you need some convincing we could agree to get you a new toy if you agree to play with her.” Mrs. Baumann gave her husband a sharp look.

Qiu felt kind of sorry for Tamarack. Her parents being so pushy about other kids being friends with her would drive most kids away. But he was willing to move past that awkwardness. “You don’t have to buy me anything,” said Qiu. “I want to meet Tamarack anyway!”

“That works too,” said Mr. Baumann. “Then we’ll bring her over tomorrow. It would have been nice if she was here to meet you now, but, and I know this sounds bad, we don’t know where she ran off to.” A mix of sadness and frustration fell across his face as he admitted that.

“Your parents agreed to search the area for us. If you happen to find her first, can you bring her back here?” requested Mrs. Baumann.

“Sure thing!” said Qiu. He thought it was odd that they weren’t even trying to find her. Were they just that used to her running off? He spun on his heel and decided to check the hills behind his house.

The chirping of crickets greeted Qiu as he reached the hill. The crash of the waves on the shore and the seagulls squawking as they settled down for the night joined them. The market street in town was more of Qiu’s kind of place, but the ocean was pretty cool too. Qiu took some time to catch his breath and relax, but he couldn’t. He had a feeling that he wasn’t alone so he glanced around.

Cresting over the top of the hill from the other side was a girl. She was frolicing among the long grass and white flowers surrounding her. She spun around and seemed to be in her own, little world. She hadn’t noticed Qiu yet. Qiu watched her for a minute longer. He felt like he had found a squirrel in the wild. Though squirrels didn’t have sparkly hair, but this new girl did. He watched it shine in the moonlight. After a few more seconds he took a step forward. That was enough to finally get the girl’s attention. She ran over to Qiu so fast that she almost barreled right into him.

“Hi! Who are you?” asked the girl.

Qiu was taken aback by how quickly the situation changed, but he was still able to tell her, “Mr. Qiu Lin! That’s Q-I-U L-I-N.”

The girl giggled at how Qiu introduced himself. “Hi, Qiu!”

“Am I correct in guessing that you’re Ms. Tamarack Baumann?” asked Qiu.

“Yep!” confirmed the girl, “And my name isn’t just a name, it’s also a type of tree!”

“That’s cool,” said Qiu. “My name means autumn.”

Tamarack gasped and bounced on her feet. “We’re almost the same! Are you a girl too?”

“No, I’m a boy!” corrected Qiu. “But I’m eight years old and I heard you were too.”

“Yeah! We’re not both girls, but we’re the same in that way! Same age forever!” shouted Tamarack. She started humming a song to herself.

“Why are you out here?” asked Qiu.

“My parents moved here for some reason. I don’t know why. Our old house had the forest right by it. There’s no forest here, but this hill is pretty cool and I’ve never seen the ocean before,” explained Tamarack.

Qiu was surprised. He didn’t think anyone had never seen the ocean before. “I can show you the beach later. And if we walk down the beach I can show you Market Street, it’s the coolest place in this town!”

Tamarack looked at the ocean. “The beach sounds nice, but you don’t have to show me the street. I don’t really care about that.”

Qiu was once again taken aback. How could anyone not care about Market Street? Then an idea came to him. “I get it. It’s because you haven’t seen it yet. I guarantee you’ll change your mind once you do.”

“I’m not sure…” said Tamarack. Qiu would have responded, but he heard a familiar voice.

“Qiu!” It was his dad’s voice.

“Tamarack!” That was Mr. Baumann. They must’ve gotten tired of waiting.

“Where are you two?” shouted Mrs. Baumann’s voice.

Tamarack scrunched up her face. “No! If they find me I’ll have to go back inside! Qiu, don’t say anything.”

“That’s not always a bad thing. Your parents miss you and it’s not like the outside is going anywhere,” assured Qiu.

Tamarack thought that over. “Sorry, but I want to stay outside longer. There’s so much new stuff. What if I miss something that won’t be here tomorrow?”

Qiu had to stop himself from laughing. What could be here that wouldn’t be here tomorrow. It wasn’t like the trees or flowers were going to get up and walk away. But before he could say anything else he heard the Baumanns, even closer than before.

“Tamarack, there you are!” exclaimed Mrs. Baumann. Tamarack’s parents surrounded her. Qiu’s own parents quickly went to his side as well.

“Qiu, you’re here as well,” said Mr. Lin, “We went to the park to check for Tamarack and heard what happened when you met the Baumanns earlier. We thought you might’ve gone further away.”

“Sorry,” said Qiu, “Tamarack wasn’t ready to go back home just yet.”

Mrs. Lin gave Tamarack a soft smile and then turned back to Qiu. “Thank God you’re both fine.”

“Were you two having fun out here?” asked Mr. Lin.

Qiu looked over at Tamarack, who appeared annoyed at her parents giving her a talking to and fusing over her.

“Yeah, I like her,” said Qiu.

Mrs. Baumann clasped her hands over Tamarack’s shoulders as if she would run away again at any moment. Mr. Baumann turned to the Lins and said, “Thank you for finding her. Obviously, we don’t know this neighborhood at all. I apologize for this bother.”

“It’s no bother to help a neighbor out,” said Mr. Lin. “It’s a good thing Qiu knows this whole area so well.”

“Indeed,” said Mrs. Baumann, “We should be getting home now. It’s been a long day for us all. Say goodbye, Tamarack, and thank them for taking the time to search for you.”

“Bye. Thanks for finding me,” said Tamarack, her energy levels had been lowered since her parents got hold of her. The three of them walked off into the darkness, heading toward the neighborhood. Qiu watched the sparkles in Tamarack’s hair until the last one went out.

“How about we have a proper playdate tomorrow, “ suggested Mrs. Lin. “Her parents wanted to bring her by to see you.”

“How does that sound,” asked Mr. Lin.

“Sure, can I show her my hideout?” asked Qiu.

“Of course you can,” answered Mrs. Lin.

“Yeah!” exclaimed Qiu. Qiu’s parents laughed, the sounds overlapping into a warm, familiar chorus. Mr. Lin put his arm around Qiu’s shoulder and the three of them headed down the hill. Satisfied, and more than a little ready to go to bed after the long, exciting day, Qiu followed them home.

[rezcowgirl]

December. Monday Morning. Okay.

Shiver and smile.

Be born in December. Riiiiight near the end, but not end enough that your parents get a free TV for having the Official New Years baby…Don’t worry about it. Dad will win a huge TV in a prize draw at Safeway. Eventually.  

There’s so much chocolate on sale, and I was born on this day! A month early, colicky as fuck, with a heart technically already broken. (<- Don't worry. Got that confirmed all cleared up when I had those other heart issues that I still have weird scars scars from because the electrodes made my skin melt. Need another 3 day thingy in February. Bleh.)

So, I’ll never be 34 again! Yay!

Once, my friend Unkyo pulled up for a Covid picnic on her bike, carrying 4 pounds of u-pick-it blueberries and an uncharacteristically sour expression. She was really aggravated. I had never seen it on her before. Apparently, she forgot her ID and the staff at a liquor store wouldn't let her buy anything. Her 18-year-old daughter was literally working at an ice-cream shop across the street from the park we were hunkered down in. I laughed and laughed, but she was genuinely annoyed. She was 45 at the time, and I thought it was cute and flattering. 

Obviously, we shared our wine with her. 

It’s fairly notable when I do not get ID’d buying alcohol. I almost always do. I know it’s not a huge flex given that I do not have an 18-year old daughter, but I DO have a fat baby face! I really don’t mind being ID’d - I like saying “I’m 35 :)”, and I wore a fake nose ring for the photo, so I like it.

I did NOT get ID’d on the most recent run. Aries said “Congrats - could it possibly be because there are not many 18 year olds that would be buying Moet & Chandon?”. And yeah. Probably helps. (It’s the ONLY champagne Aries likes…) I somewhat aspire to be ID’d at 45 like Unkyo, but Unkyo is an easy beauty, inside and out, and I am a rotten, crispy husk of a man, so I’m not going to worry too much about meeting this goal. My real goal is to make it to 45 and not die. So far so good!!!

I spent Friday with my old roommate and some other friends I don’t get to see very often and felt all gooey with love again. Wistful? Not quite nostalgic - she is better as a friend than a roommate. To be clear, I was the problem. I need a lot of alone time. It was hard. She forgives me my aforementioned rottenness, and she lives in New York now. I miss her so much, but we both don’t keep in touch because we suck at it. But it means a-lot-a-lot to be able to sit down and be like: “holy shit I love you tell me everything” and it’s not weird. She’s one of those rare always-sweet types, and I always want to protect it. She must not lose it. No no no. We’re having her and her husband over on the 5th, and I’m going to try really hard to NOT ask if they're going to move back to Vancouver...

Saturday we hopped around to different cocktail lounges, and I think we met some kind of trickster god. We were at our third stop, and we ended up being seated outside, which apparently most people turn down, but it was amazing. We had our own fire, we got complimentary cider, and we could converse without yelling. I wanted Aries to take some photos of us, so he did. But lurking nearby was this very friendly and relatively drunk guy, obviously also bar hopping and waiting to get in. He said “no, no, stop, you can sit down, I’ll take the photos from here”, so Aries handed my phone over and he took about 15 photos for us.

They’re basically all unsalvageable. In every single one, something is fucked up. Someone is mid-blink so their eyes are closed, but there’s still the ghost of a pupil overlaid over the eyelid, making it SUPER creepy. Or someone moved, so their face looks long. There’s one where Aries has one eye open and the other closed? There’s one photo of Ali that does not look like her at all?? It’s not like we’re all blurry in them. There’s just at least one person fucking up in each of them. I am perplexed and impressed, and now I have all these laughably terrible photos from my birthday pub crawl. But I love them anyway.

Here are the last pieces of 34. I found heart stickers on a walk. I'll stick one in my 2025 planner, and one on the wall of a goth night bathroom.

[underqualified-human]

Saiko Metori NSFW Alphabet

→ Request: hihi!! is this still active?? if so, do you think i can request a NSFW alphabet for saiko metori from saiki k? if you're still doing those ofc!! thank you!

→ A/N: Manga Saiko had no right to be that fine

→ Warnings: Heavy NSFW [obv]

→ Fandom: The Disastrous Life Of Saiki K

→ Pronouns: They/Them

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He gets really emotional after he gets intimate.

For a few moments after he just likes to lay in your arms and listen to your heartbeat

Tries his best, but needs some help in the specifics of what you’d like

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really likes your hands and all of the things that they can do

His favourite part of himself is his hair

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Likes to cum inside, but always wears a condom

If you want him to pull out, he will try his best 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Not really a secret but he likes to have his hair pulled, both as a dom and as a sub

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zero, not experience at all

Doesn't really know what he’s doing, but he tries to learn

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Face-off and Standing O

Likes to make eye contact during sex

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious, makes no jokes at all, not giggly either

May get a little annoyed if you are/do any of the above

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Buys only the most expensive grooming products

Probably waxes, doesnt shed a single tear either

It matches btw

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very very intimate

Regularly pulls up with the rose petals and the candles

Hires a violinist to stand outside the door for mood music

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Does it pretty frequently, moreso if you’re uninterested in sex

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hairpulling

Probably marking as well, both giving and recieving

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Usually does it in his bed, but has done it in the bathroom [read:bathtub]

Avoids public spaced due to the risk factor and the harm it could do to his reputation

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Breathing

No, but really it’s super easy to turn on

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Anything that he considers unsanitary

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers to give over receive 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually allows his partner to set the pace

Otherwise he’s slow and sensual

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s conflicted about it

On one hand, is his high sex drive

On the other hand, is his strong desire to be romantic

All in all quickies don’t happen that often

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s definitely down to experiment as long as everything stays in the bedroom

He usually only takes risks after a lot of pep talk to himself [and asking if his partner was okay with it]

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Weak!

1-3 maximum, if he goes for a fourth he actually passes out lol

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He owns a lot of them and most are for his partner

Probably gets really expensive ones too [buys with cash so his dad doesn’t know]

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Probably likes to get teased more than be the one teasing

But still probably dislikes being teased as much as he dislikes teasing his partner

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud, loud, loud

 Moans and groans and all of them are loud

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Really wants to get into roleplaying, but is too embarrassed to try and bring it up

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Honestly speaking I think he probably has a very high sex drive

At the same time, he’s also very considerate of your boundaries and desires [or lack thereof]

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He falls asleep super fast but might try not to if there's more to be done

[onlyjaeyun]

thinking about the sb!universe so here are some scenes/headcannons i have:

• one day jay’s dad shows up to the office with shiah’s dad and shiah herself. jay’s dad drops that he believes it’s time to start the marriage process. shiah slips jay the ring she’s always wanted and tells her to make the proposal big and grand, and that they’ll act like it was all a surprise for the media. yn overhears and is devastated. my poor girly :( . that meeting is like 3,000 steps backward for jay and yn.

• yn showing up to flowers on her desk from the one guy she starts seeing from another dept. jay has someone send out a notice reminder that sending gifts with intent and dating amongst coworkers, even those in other departments is not recommended. he even asks giselle to investigate it as she works in HR, and she’s like uhmmm, ok?? giselle doesn’t take it seriously and snitches to yn. she’s like “GIRL UR MAN IS JEALOUSSSSS” 🤭🤭 when jay asks for a follow up a few days later giselle is like uhmmm…no response yet from my manager haha, we’re like super busy rn.

• the other boys of the seoul 4 and nayeon finding out yn is casually dating again and throwing random options at her in front of jay who can’t show jealous he is to prove a point.

ok enough of the jealousy, some cute stuff:

• yn and jay taking a weekend vacation when they get together and just being glued to each other all weekend. yn is so cuddly, especially after sex, which is new to jay. usually he keeps his distance in bed after his 3 rounds with miyeon or she leaves right away. he’s ready to go crazy when yn leaves the bathroom and comes back to the bed after being cleaned up and she just closes the distance between them (pee after sex so you don’t get a UTI girlies). his breath hitches in his throat and he knows he can stay like this forever.

• IK IK IK it’s too early in the smau to think about sb!yn and jay getting married and having children but i had to 😭 jay’s like in a serious emergency meeting after something goes wrong and his face is just stoic and he looks like he’s gonna kill someone in a few minutes. but then his 2 little children burst through the door after yn took her eyes off them for literally 30 seconds. they were supposed to wait outside of the meeting room to surprise him but their 4 year old daughter and 2 year old son don’t care. jay’s mood instantly changes when his children are suddenly jumping into his lap and gripping his arm with their little hands. he hasn’t seen them all week because of all the time he’s been spending in the office so he lets them stay. he gives him his pen and notebook to play with as they sit on his lap. yn opens the door a crack and makes silent eye contact with jay to say sorry, but he just silently assures her it’s fine and laughs at how one of the kids started drawing on his suit sleeve. when the meeting finishes he kisses their cheeks and thanks them for being so good during the meeting.

• yn and jay taking their first trip together and deciding to go shopping. jay buys everything for her and she’s like no no i didn’t even want it that much. he’s like baby u tried it on and stared at yourself in the mirror for 15 minutes smiling before u put it back. whenever yn needs something he just puts his black card in front of her and assures her that he has more than enough money for himself and that his princess deserves to be spoiled. and then yn fights him at the boba shop, insisting she’ll pay for this one thing 😭😭

a little nsfw hc for u too heehee

• sb!jay is probably obsessed with creampies, he loves to come in yn and watch it just drip out ooooh. if yn’s on bc, he’d go crazy 😭😭 when yn’s like yk i still have the chance of getting pregnant, jay’s just like well baby we’ll be parents then, i don’t mind. we love a man who accepts that pleasurable actions have their consequences.

this one for shits and giggles:

• jay learning about yn’s family and deciding enough is enough. he hires a hitman to get them 😍😍😍

i literally love all of these so so so much and am just super grateful to know you guys enjoy this as luch as i do. i'll absolutely use a few of ghese ideas as inspo and genuinely can't wait to indulge in most of them. ESPECIALL THE CREAMPIE ONE BC THATS SO HIM 👀👀👀 and pls involving the boys and nayeon when she does start dating again will make things so much better so you bet your ass i'll use that one 🤭🤭 thank you so much baby, your brain is so sexy i hope you have the best day ever and know i love and appreciate you so much 🥺🤍💖🧸

[sircarebearalot]

ORV should be isekaid into a cooking anime, godddd the quality….

Yoo Joonghyuk would be the overpowered protagonist (except he’s not the protagonist) . Has his own restaurant, is very revered and well respected within his community.

Han Sooyoung would be the food critic who ofc has beef with Yoo Joonghyuk but they’re sort of friends (they would never admit it)

Yoo Sangah is Kim Dokja’s coworker who sits with him at lunch and offer Kim Dokja a bite ir to make him a meal which KDJ always politely refuses (tho he looks at her food longingly)

Jung Heewon is the bartender at a bar and always puts aside extra food for the KDJ bc he only ever buys a soda but he still likes sitting at her bar. (He’s just waiting for his bus)

Lee Hyunsung is Yoo Joonghyuk’s friend and Jung Heewons husband. He’s coming back from the army and he’s always looking to try new foods bc he’s sick of army meals. (He sits at the bar and makes friends with Kim Dokja)

Lee Seolhwa is a doctor, of course, who tells Kim Dokja he should eat more after he collapses from exhaustion one time. He’s also Yoo Joonghyuk’s ex, except they broke up over unreconcible differences (food matters to YJH and she just needs to get her vitamins and protein—doesn’t care about food)

Lee Jihye considers Yoo Joonghyuk a culinary genius and is trying to become his student. She has beef with Kim Namwoon.

Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung are KDJ’s neighbors who he usually offers a lame meal to whenever they drop by. Their dissatisfaction (poorly hidden bc they’re kids) launches him on a journey to become a better adult and cook.

Which brings us to how they truly unite…. They all (excluding the Lee Gilyoung, Shin Yoosung, and Lee Seolwha) decide to take a cooking class (not together it’s just an anime coincidence) and Yoo Joonghyuk, who’s sponsor forced him to have one, is the teacher of the class.

They all bond and find their lives more entangled then they originally thought and there is love and happiness and excitement and you know what, for the sake of plot, kdj hasn’t met any of them yet except for Han Sooyoung who he met when he was living vicariously through her food reviews. It’s only after their first class that kdj stops by Heewons bar and chats with Yoo Sangah and befriends Hyunsung.

Kim Dokja, because of his smart mouth, makes himself the target of Yoo Joonghyuk’s frustration and Yoo Mia ussuallu sits in a corner and does homework and makes little snide remarks.

Reasons why they took the class:

Han Sooyoung— bored, wants to take the piss at Yoo Joonghyuk, also she made KDJ take it with her when he mentioned being bad at cooking

Yoo Sangah— bc she has the time and the urge to improve in every facet of her life

Jung Heewon— was told by the bar owner that she sucked at cooking and she needs proof (a certificate of completion) that she knows how to work in a kitchen

Lee Hyunsung— just came back from the army, didn’t want to not spend time with his wife, thought it could be a couple thing

Lee Jihye— r u kidding me when she found out YJH was hosting a class she signed up FAST

Kim Namwoon- same but he mainly wants to piss Lee Jihye off

Of course as the anime progresses, we have:

— Yop Sangah and Han Sooyoung becoming culinary academic rivals, (with Yoo Sangah

— KDJ Getting ugly allegations, bc he’s always sloppy tired after work…

— KDJ disliking Kim Namwoon on sight (it’s just funny to me)

— the kdj company thinking JDJ is a single dad trying his best (it’s a running bit)

— Jung Heewon going from Worst Cook to Best Cook, was recruited by Yoo Joonghyuk— she said nah

— by some circumstance, they hang out outside of class, and they bond

— YJH finds out about KDJs current eating habits through conversation and is personally offended

— yoo mia and Lee Gilyoung and Shin Yoosung starts bonding

— YJH and KDJ don’t get together till the end, after many failed confession attempts by YJH— they get together bc KDJ made YJH dumplings (took many batches) and YJH could no longer keep his cool (if he had any) and kisses him

— the anime ends with them eating at Yoo Joonghyuk’s restaurant together

And when I said isekai I just meant the vibes of a cooking anime has to be there. Super intense, has to be about food.

Anyways, yes, this art sketch inspired all that. Ain’t art the darkest thing?

it's salty

[squashsquashed]

trauma dump because im losing my mind and no one’s listening

idk if im manic definitely feeling a bit psychotic rn . everyone in this house treats me like a fuckinh nanny cleaning and shit just cause i’m homeless . the dishes have been in the dish washer for 2 days clean and everyone has been home except me . i hate the.bitch i live with because she’s a fucking spoiled brat that does coke all day and drinks and never cleans after her self. she even curses at her parents that pay for her college and car and gas and food . mY FUCKING MOTHER MADE ME BUY FOOD FOR HER AND PAY FOR GROCERIES my mom would beat me if i even tried to curse at her . im only here because my families house is an episode of hoarders and i was being woken up everyday asked for money . my money was getting taken out of my bank account cause my mother expects me to take care of her . i have no one . i have no parents or friends im on my last fucking shit rn i have so much trauma i relive everyday . i can’t even go back to my moms because she took my room and ruined it to the point u can’t even see the floor . my sister sleeps on the couch there . there’s cat pee all over the floors and majority of the food is expired . and my mom acts like im supposed to be there struggling with them all. i don’t know whether to kill myslef or killevrryome else that has fucked up my life .

i have no car , no money , and everything that i have feels like it’s just gonna get taken away from me like it always has

i grew up as a kid praying every night to some fake ass god to not take our house away and praying my mom would win the lottery so we can live in. a clean nice home with food . what ever fucking god the rich prays to is NOT my god .

my mom has a warrant out for her arrest because she bounced a check trying to buy us food when i was 8. i vividly remember her screaming crying on the phone in the car outside the grocery store to the people . i can’t go through anything else .

crying everynight after we got evicted from our last house after i watched my mom have an affair on the only person keeping the family financially stable because her selfish ass . and she thinks that it was good i went through all this . she grew up perfect in a perfect family with a big house and they always went on vacation. and she thinks nothing i went through should effect me

fuckinh sleeping on the floor for months because i didn’t want to share a bed with her . begging for a therapist for years only for her to put it off

getting told i was the reason she wanted to kill herself when i was 14 . getting called a bum and useless when i was 15 just cause i was depressed . her knowing i was attempting for years and not doing anything except telling me if i did die we couldn’t afford a funeral. is this shit not supposed to fuck me up .

so much more . i don’t have family i don’t know my dad i hate living in general and i really don’t feel the need to keep going .

all the fucked up people that have ruined my life have never said sorry . while i apologize for existing everyday

[chocotonez]

blackpink as girlfriends

a/n : stream shut down for clear skin, also warning that there is sorta female-leaning aspects for the reader but no pronouns r dropped!!

genre: hcs, fluff, slight angst if you squint but like you have to squint really really hard

jisoo

-BROOO she’s so <333

-she always has your back, even if she doesn’t make it obvious to everyone around her she’s your #1 supporter

-she’s very realistic and keeps you grounded, but never fails to uplift you when you did good :)

-cheek kisses or just reassuring squeezes of your hand is her go-to PDA, but she gets a little shy if you initiate it

-never ever fails to like your stories/Instagram posts. I also feel like she’s the type to leave you on read but at least thumbs up your message so you don’t feel like she’s ghosting you LMAO

-she’s always on your side (to an extent), if you hate someone, now so does she.

-babies you constantly and loves to see you wearing her clothes, it never fails to make her smile and she just <333 ur so cute and precious to her!!

-always brings two of everything or extra items in case u need something, like chapstick or hand sanitizer or water…

-somehow always there for you in a literal sense, if you text her “jisoo I need you here rn :((“ and she’ll be outside ur window so fast

rose:

-posts u on her story w cute songs and she draws hearts all over your selfies

-intertwines your pinkies when you guys are out together, or your arms get tangled together

-brushes your hair, braids it (if it’s long enough!), styles it, she likes dolling you up

-she loves getting ready with you or doing routines!! like getting dressed or nighttime skincare is 10x more fun with you in her opinion

-she always listens to you, and fully. she’s interested in what you have to say and she likes to show that, she wants you to feel heard in their relationship. she’ll sit down, wrap you both in blankets, cuddle you and hold you close and you can ramble about your day, hobbies, anything you find interesting, etc…

-dad jokes :)

-she tends to be a bit sensitive and is like very empathetic, so if you’re sad, she’s sad, but she wants to help in any way she can

-gets you random gifts she finds from day to day that remind her of you, and loses her shit if you do the same as she just <333 exchanges of similar love languages makes her so happy

-likes to randomly affirm her love for you, like sitting down together on a casual date and she’ll just say she loves you

-because she does and she just wants u to know :(( !!

jennie:

-I HAVE SO MANY TJOUGHTS ABOUT JENNIE 🤧

-ok first off she literally is such a cheesy romantic like, she loves flowers and candle lit dinners and cute gifts on Valentine’s Day and is so whipped if ur willing to indulge in her sappiness

-in return she leaves little things behind, jewelry she thinks you’d like, sticky notes wishing you a nice day, lipstick kisses on your vanity mirror and maybe one on your forehead for when u wake up <333

-can u tell who my bias is yet

-I think she really likes physical touch as a love language but I think she needs words of affirmation and reassurance too

-you 2 just spooning on the couch and then u tell her how amazing she is and she literally just falls in love

-matching outfits, u guys r literally the most fashionable couple

-she spoils you but like…casually, buys your groceries and gas, buys coffee in the morning, small things

-she gets so lovey dovey if u do the same for her :((

-squeezing u tightly if u get her breakfast or even the bare minimum of handing her a water bottle LMAO

lisa:

-ok first of all gift giving is a constant

-from small things to a candle lit dinner at the finest restaurant in town, she’s always got u bbydoll

-likes to call you cheesy/cringe pet names to see your face scrunch up and act all cute

-always has her camera ready to take candid photos of you and says she’ll delete them but that’s the biggest lie in your relationship LMAO

-creative dates >>> cliche

-like,,,just dance or those arcade dance machines and whoever gets the highest score gets to pick what they’re eating for dinner

-sometimes she lets u win but she’ll never say that but u know <333

-ur #1 hype man, always cheering for you and supporting you no matter what bevause THATS HER BABY!!!

-always has to be touching you, like holding your hand or waist, swinging her leg over your’s when ur sitting together, resting her head on your shoulder or interlocking pinkies while you walk around town :((

-she loves you a ton and isn’t afraid to show it!!

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,” he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

tag list - @giadalin @nohayarcoirissintormenta @pjmislovely @xhazmania @marcoazam2 @eggbutnotyolk @feel-the-sunset @unicornbabylover @aretha170 @jeonmisha @hordanhearsawhooo 

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[k-l-a-n-c-e-a-c-a-d-e-m-y]

Wait also. I want an orchid mantis and also a jumping spider .

I want bees. I wanna be a mini beekeeper . I also want to start a garden . Oh also I want fish and me mama said I could get a bunny so that’s on the table and also? Seamonkeys I want seamonkeys. Also an ant farm. Fuck off .

[studiojeon]

bitterness in goodbye | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. sadly, you can't read this as a stand alone (meaning: feel free to check the previous parts ♡)

| summary | - You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

warnings: none (?) i mean chaeryeong insults jungkook which is an atrocity in itself but-

contents: we diving into the angst my friends. jungkook is an innocent, kind hearted soul, i promise. oc's got the feels (out oct. 1) for jk. idol!jungkook × student!reader.

author's note: I EDITTED THIS FROM MY PHONE DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW FUCKING ANNOYING THAT IS? also, thank u for the amount of support i've been receiving lately, i appreciate everyone lots. feel free to ask away or suggest anything btw, i would love to write for any prompts you guys come up with. 💞💗💖💘💓💕

words: 1.57k

playlist: honey by halsey

Four weeks later, the receptionist of your apartment complex hands you over a cardboard box with the hoodie Jungkook and you had talked about that day on the Han River. Jungkook kept pestering you to please please please send him your address for confidential purposes, which you knew had to do with his determination to literally provide anything that catches your eye right away. You assumed it was a sensitive topic for the boy whether people had purposefully taken advantage of his money before, so you didn’t dare to say anything when the man asked you for your size literally two hours after he dropped you off, scared to either reject his solidare intentions or piss him off for bringing unwanted memories back. In  your defense, your personality type keeps oscillating between INFP and INFJ so it’s only natural that you take extra care to make sure those around you have as much peace of mind as possible in your presence. 

As pretty and comfortable the piece of soft clothing is, an important factor is missing, something that you can’t recreate buying two of the same size and color, and that is Jungkook's escence and how good it looks on him in comparison to anyone else in the world. Meaning, you didn’t like it as much as you thought initially would. And it absolutely did not have to do with the fact that your short stature made you look like a toddler who stole their dad’s jacket.

Still, in order to show Jungkook how much you appreciate his gift, you bring it to work the next day, and the rest of the days after that, with the excuse that with winter rolling around you needed something to keep you warm in the office. Jungkook doesn’t miss the opportunity to confirm your assumptions regarding your appearance whenever he barges into your office randomly throughout the week, arguing that ”you look so adorable” and doesn’t stop for two weeks more, until he gets used to seeing you wearing something you shared with him. Which doesn’t help ease your growing romantic feelings for him whatsoever.

Because yeah, you liked Jeon Jungkook, just like every human being with eyes and sexual desires, except, you didn’t just like him in a superficial way, and that’s where the problem with him resides. Though you are sure everyone has fallen in love with the endearing boy at some point - especially the excluded and invalidated women of society - you can’t help but place some blame on you for allowing yourself to be swooned so goddamn easily. Your mom had said to you at some point to be wary of the way some men would talk to you when you grew up, their intention usually being getting inside your pants, which has happened to you more times than you'd like to admit. And with the argument that she knew you better than anyone, she claimed you would comply right the second someone talked sweet to you; you despised the fact that was the case with Jungkook (and Jungkook only), although he had never shown any sexual innuendos. What your feelings could do to your relationship with Jungkook and your rather chill lifestyle scared you to death, shiver me timbers and all that shit, having romantic feelings for someone else is embarrassing, especially when your chance with them has been scratched out the second you laid eyes on them.

Jungkook sits on your couch, legs spread on your thighs as you two pretend to watch some series on netflix. “I don’t buy for a second the act you’re putting on right now.” he speaks randomly after staring at your deep-in-thought state for a few minutes and laughs when you snap at him for not letting you overthink in peace. “What’s going on?”

Truth is, you don’t fucking know. A few hours before he arrived at your place (you had to pick him up at the dorm and sneak the both of you through the subterranean parking lot, because god forbid someone saw Jungkook arriving at some chick’s dorm on a saturday afternoon) you swore you would be able to conceal whatever emotional turmoil you had going inside of you without compromising your regular behaviour around the man, but when push comes to shove, it’s impossible to keep yourself from wondering how far you could go before that special someone found out what was going on inside of your head.

Jungkook’s phone rings in his pocket with some annoying tone he had downloaded illegally from youtube the same day the company had handed over the device as a gift for him (you still were a little bitter over how they neglected the rest of the staff but you also knew it was kind of impossible for the human kind to just gift a-thousand-dollar-phones to almost five hundred people out of solidarity). “Hyung?” he picks up, still wary of your unusual behaviour, concerned eyes looking at you. “No, uh- i’m with Yugyeom right now.” and your heart shatters into a million pieces.

You have been suspecting for a while that Jungkook is being hesitant to introduce you to his social circle. Although, you’ve tried your best not to take it personal, it is getting harder to resist the urge to ask him what the fuck is up with that. The fact that Jungkook had to lie about the person he was hanging out with broke your ego; he could’ve just said he was with a friend, right? You suddenly feel like you’re fifteen again, when the guy you liked would love you in the dark but pretend he didn’t know you in the light. 

Holding your tears back, you gently push him off and make your way towards the bathroom in the most nonchalant way you could. This is your fault for falling for the nice popular guy in the first place, you remind the reflection staring back at you. Still, as bad as it hurt, there was no way you were going to cry over a stupid boy, let alone when he was literally sat on the next room. He can go fuck himself if he thinks he can just toss this behind as if nothing ever happened.

You text Chaeryeong instead.

“chaery bom bom: i swear to god i gonna throw hands the next time i see the bitch.

chaery bom bom: like who the hell does he think he is? fucking squidward looking asshole.

chaery bom bom: he ain’t even that cute bub, you’ll get over him. i know jinyoung wouldn’t treat you like this”

You sigh. Chaeryeong has been enamored with the idea of you and his former company colleague from GOT7 since the day she met the guy (which was somewhere around ten years ago), and although he was all that, you didn’t like his quiet and cold aura, it intimidated the fuck out of you (Jungkook was the entire opposite of that).

You spray on some perfume just to have an excuse as to why you randomly ran to the bathroom when Jungkook’s inquiring eyes stare as you sit back on the couch, which is exactly what he does. “You done with your call?” you ask, bitter.

Jungkook frowns, a bit taken aback by the sudden question but still unaware of the way his words had made you feel, not even sensing the hostile change in your mood. “Yes, it was one of our managers. He was wondering if I could come back to reshoot some...-thing.”

Okay, now you kind of understand as to why he lied in the first place and to say you feel guilty is an understatement. “I supposed he backed down once you mentioned you were hanging out with Yugyeom.” playfulness makes its appearance on your tone and Jungkook rolls his eyes at you, tongue poking on the inside of his slightly red cheeks.

“Sorry for that” he moves closer and cuddles your arm, like a sad guilty puppy. “It’s just- I don’t want them asking questions''.

You understand. He is a very reserved and private person after all. It took you a bit to crack him open yourself. Plus, you kind of share that trait with him, you’d hate it too if people were constantly on your nerves for the people you decide to hang out with. 

And that’s all it takes to forgive him. Not very cash money of you.

“You better not pull that shit again, though” you shift in his hold and he looks up at you. One look into your eyes and he knows what you mean. “I’ll kick you out.”

After nodding, Jungkook resumes his concentration on the series you picked out for him. Due to your short attention span, you are very picky about what you invest your time in, especifically with audiovisual pieces of media, so Jungkook trusts you whenever you recommend something on very rare occasions. As a matter of fact, Jungkook was busy attacking your kitchen counters for snacks (which you didn’t have) when you mentioned Money Heist. “Munch on some grapes instead” you suggested to soothe his disappointment.

You can’t help but feel a little sad when Jungkook doesn’t refrain from cuddling your arm after pleading to forgive him. You wish you could cuddle him instead, that he would lay his head on your chest as you play with his soft hair, but you recognize there are some things you just can’t have.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[edith-moonshadow]

Dionysus

It’s been a crazy week and I posted the ao3 link for this but not the story so this is just it here with the ao3 link for those who prefer it. 

Tumblr [With full tags]

For June 2022 Harringrove Week

For the 26th June prompt AU: Modern

Alpha Beta Omega Dynamics, Alpha Billy Hargrove, Omega Steve Harrington, Sex Toys, Camboy Steve, Anal Fingering, Anal Play

Steve sat at his computer with his fingers twitching as the time neared 8 o'clock. He double-checked all the equipment to make sure that it was connected properly and working. He thought about the fact that there were probably low-budget films that didn't have as good equipment as he did but Billy always wanted to be able to see and hear everything.

'I want to feel like I'm in the room…'

He got up to check his outfit one more time in the mirror. He smoothed down the dusky pink crop top and short satin skirt. He turned three quarters and slid the skirt up to reveal the soft pink lace beneath. Billy loved him in soft shades and fabrics, he always paid extra for that. And at this point, he needed all the extra he could get.

It was hard for him to believe that he'd only presented three years ago. Hawkins had been in the middle of a heatwave. Everyone had a sticky sheen of sweat, their hair wilted and no energy to move around. So Steve hadn't realised the early symptoms of a heat until it was too late. His parents had discovered the truth at the same time because he was too weak to hide it. His dad had never looked at him the same way.

It had been a bittersweet ending when he was told he had to leave. His mom tried desperately to keep him there. She tried everything from how dangerous it was for an unbonded Omega on their own to the heartbreaking how it would be easier to keep it a secret if they kept him close. He knew she was frantic and trying anything and everything but it still stung. In the end, it was for nought.

His mom gave him money and begged him to contact her so she knew where he was. He took a small suitcase and got on a bus. He didn't even know where to go but in the end, he thought New York was a good place to get lost in. He had been right. However, it was also humid, dirty and cruel. After a few months, he had lost hope and was preparing to move on when he met Brittney.

She was a petite Omega with short blonde hair and large blue eyes. To him, she looked like she'd stepped out of a cartoon from the 30s but she always seemed to have money, food and clothes. The small number of clothes he'd brought with him were wearing thin and with the temperature change they weren't much use anymore. He generally had to choose between food and rent because getting a job as a lone Omega was difficult and the money his mom sent each month was stretched to its limits.

Brittney had met him outside his apartment, she had received some of his mail by accident. She had taken one look at him and offered to buy him lunch. He had gratefully accepted. Brittney didn't waste any time telling him all about Dionysus. It was a website where Omegas could be paid for talking to Alphas.

"Talking about what?"

She shrugged.

"Whatever they want to talk about."

"And they pay you for that?"

"Yes but…"

She studied him closely for a moment but she took a deep breath and continued.

"It will probably be sexual."

Steve choked on his drink. Brittney leaned forward and patted him on the back.

"Don't worry you control the conversation so it's what you're comfortable with but the more sexual things get, the better you get paid."

Steve took a few gulping breaths.

"So it's just talking?"

"Only if you want it to be but again the more you do the more you get and these Alphas give plenty."

"Is that how you make your money?"

He felt his face heat at such a personal question but he was starting to feel desperate. She smiled at him.

"Yes. I don't know what I would have done without it."

"It sounds great but I don't have a computer."

"I have an old laptop I'm not using if you want it. I'm sure it won't be long until you can upgrade."

She had been right. Steve had only been on the website for a week when he met Billy Hargrove and soon money was no problem. In that first week, he had stuck to chatting as the camera on the laptop wasn't very good and he didn't feel up to that yet. He had put some pictures up with his profile that Brittney had taken and even with his limitations he got a lot of attention.

Things had gotten sexual a few times but the Alphas were so wrapped up in their fantasies that he barely had to do anything and he got paid. It wasn't a life-changing amount of money but it kept the money his mom sent supplemented so he could eat regularly. It had been a busy night and he was just about to log off and go to bed when he got a new message.

'Hello, Princess.'

Most of the Alphas just called him Omega with an occasional 'beautiful' to change things up so he couldn't help but take notice. He looked at the profile of Billy Hargrove. He was a blonde Alpha with intense blue eyes. It seemed he'd been a member of the site for about five months and he had a good rating.

'Hello, Alpha.'

'How about a video chat so I can see those pretty eyes of yours in person.'

He sighed. Well, at least he could go to bed now.

'Sorry, my camera is not working so it's only chatting for now.'

'Is that what the other Alphas get?'

'Yes.'

'Ok, Princess I'll see you tomorrow.'

Steve logged off and got ready for bed. He couldn't stop thinking about the last interaction but it wasn't the first time an Alpha had cut their conversation short.

The next day he'd been about to go out to get lunch when a package arrived for him. He had thought that maybe his mom was sending him some supplies but noticed that the label was printed and she always wrote hers by hand but who would be sending him something? He accepted it from the mailman and opened it. Inside was a brand new top-of-the-line webcam. He felt a little uneasy and placed it back in the box before heading down the hall to Brittney's apartment. She didn't know anything about the webcam but convinced him that it was a good thing.

That night at eight he had set up the webcam. He couldn't help the little flutter in his stomach at the idea that people would be able to see him. He had decided that for tonight he wouldn't do anything except talk but it would be face-to-face for the first time. He took a deep breath and joined the chat. He saw someone he'd talked to many times before, Derek. He was an easy-going Alpha from Dallas who was very wrapped up in his fantasy of Steve being his high school sweetheart. He felt like the perfect person to ease into the webcam.

He had a policy well technically it was Brittney's policy, always let them come to you. So he waited but it wasn't Derek who clicked on him. It was Billy. The flutter in his stomach intensified as he hadn't ever spoken to him.

"There you are, Sweetheart. Those pictures don't do you justice."

"Thank you, Alpha."

Billy groaned and Steve felt a flush come to his cheeks.

"Are you always this polite Baby?"

Steve bit his lip. Brittney had given him some tips on the best way to make money especially if he didn't want to do anything too risky.

"If you want me to be."

Billy's eyes heated up in a way that made him squirm.

"You going to be a good boy for me?"

Steve lowered his eyes demurely.

"Yes, Alpha."

Billy licked over his teeth and that flutter became a tornado. Before Steve knew it he'd been talking to Billy for over an hour. He kept getting notifications that other people wanted him but every time his eyes strayed from Billy he would send him more money. He had made more money that night than he had in a week normally. Back home he had to keep his status a secret but all the Alphas he knew talked about wanting petite Omegas with big eyes and hips who they could protect and dominate in equal measure. He had always believed that it was the Brittneys of the world who got all the attention but here he was learning otherwise.

He wondered briefly if he should move on from Billy? Surely he wouldn't spend much more and if he continued to ignore everyone else they might ignore him next time. He gave Billy a soft smile.

"You've been so generous tonight Alpha but I don't want to monopolise all your time."

"I want to monopolise yours."

Steve looked at him with wide eyes.

"I…"

Billy leaned forward and let his voice drop to a whispered growl.

"How about a little show Princess. Just for me?"

"I wasn't planning on doing anything other than talking tonight."

"How about $200 for a little striptease?"

Steve's mouth fell open. $200? On top of everything else Billy had given him, he would be able to completely pay his rent for the month and eat better. However, he didn't want to go down this road. If he started doing sexual things with the Alphas there was no turning back. He shook his head. Billy smiled.

"$300."

"No, I…"

"$400. C'mon Baby just for me."

It was so tempting but how could he do this?

"I've never done anything like that…it wouldn't be any good…"

Billy got impossibly close to the camera.

$500. If you feel uncomfortable we can stop."

Steve bit his lip hard. He tried to bite it so hard that he would realise what a slippery slope he was about to go down and stop. Yet he couldn't do it. $500 was too much money for him to turn down. He nodded. A wide grin split Billy's face.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stand up…that's it…"

Steve stood awkwardly in front of the webcam. He wasn't even wearing nice clothes. He'd picked out one of his best sweaters so he looked good on camera but underneath he was wearing an old pair of sweats from home and a thick pair of socks. It didn't stop Billy's eyes from travelling the full length of him.

"Take off your sweater…nice and slow…"

Steve slowly eased the sweater up and off his body. His hair fell into his eyes and gooseflesh broke out across his skin as the cold air caressed him. He set it down out of sight and stood before Billy who licked his teeth.

"Lose the sweats…"

He hopped on each leg to remove his socks then slid his hands into the waistband of the sweats and slid them down and off his legs. He hoped he was doing this in an appealing way but he'd never done a striptease before and he didn't think it was possible to make sweats sexy. He soon stood before Billy shivering in just his underwear. Billy's eyes burned into him.

"Keep going Pretty Boy…"

He licked his lips in nervousness then gripped the waistband of his underwear and pulled them off. He desperately wanted to cover himself but he knew that Billy was paying good money for this so that didn't seem fair. He averted his eyes for several moments while he felt his flush spread over his skin making him sweat despite the cold. The silence soon became too much and he glanced at Billy.

"Turn around and bend over for me."

Steve's eyes widened so much that he expected his eyes to roll across the floor. Billy just smiled and twirled his finger. He swallowed hard. It was a lot of money. He stiffly turned around and bent at the waist.

"Spread your legs for me…"

He did as he was told, feeling the cold air between his legs.

"Turn your head back to look at me, Baby."

He looked back at Billy. That intense stare made his skin prickle.

"That's it…such a good boy."

That strange flutter returned to his stomach. He had been right. It had opened the floodgates but only with Billy. Every night at eight on the dot he would log onto the site and Billy was always the first person to speak to him. The only person. He paid a lot of money for the things that he got Steve to do but to this point, it had only been stripteases which he had thankfully gotten better at over time and for him to wear the things that Billy sent him. Which mostly consisted of short skirts and lingerie. Steve didn't complain because even though he'd been embarrassed at various times he found he didn't mind these things at all and Billy paid him so much money he couldn't say no.

He had also become a little addicted to the praise that Billy gave him when he finally gave in. It had only taken a few days for the image quality of the webcam to not be enough and an entire computer plus recording equipment, lights and microphone had been sent to his apartment and fitted. Steve didn't know how Billy knew where he lived and when they talked he always forgot to ask. Now there was nowhere in his apartment that he could hide from Billy. It made the stripteases into full productions.

He remembered the first night with the full cameras and lighting. He had felt a little self-conscious especially when Billy wanted him to climb onto his bed on all fours, spreading himself open for the camera before looking back at Billy. This was a favourite request of his. When it had been the webcam it hadn't seemed too bad. Now everything was in high definition and Steve felt awkward. Billy didn't seem fazed at all. He just kept encouraging and praising him until he got what he wanted. He tipped him $1000 that night which took the sting out of his humiliation.

So now he was getting ready for his nightly session with Billy. He felt nervous in a way he hadn't for a long time. There had been a strange energy about Billy the night before and then today this outfit had arrived in the mail. It had been silky smooth under his fingers and he knew it would feel nice against his skin. He also knew this was Billy's way of telling him he wanted him to wear this tonight. He had finished his dinner early and then had a long hot bath getting himself ready for later that night.

An hour later he was watching the clock as it got closer to eight. He took a deep breath, maybe he needed a night off to go and do something away from all this. Thanks to Billy he had extra money in the bank so he could afford it. He was thinking about maybe visiting his mom when he realised it was time and logged on. Billy was already there. Waiting on him. His eyes lit up when he saw Steve in the outfit.

"You look so good, Baby. Stand up and show it to me properly."

By now he knew what Billy wanted and he didn't feel as self-conscious as he once had so he stood and turned slowly. He stopped so that he was able to look over his shoulder and slowly moved the skirt up to his hips so that Billy could see the lace. He knew that there were cameras installed so that Billy could see him all the way around but he generally treated the camera near the computer as though it were him. Billy's heated gaze made him feel warm all over. He turned back and started to run his hands over the crop top slowly easing it up the way he knew he liked when there was a knock at his door. He froze in place with his heart racing. Who could that be? Brittney knew to never interrupt him at this time. He stood dumbfounded for a moment wondering what he should do.

"Are you not going to get that Sweetheart?"

He blinked at Billy then looked down at what he was wearing. His face heated uncomfortably. He ran to his closet and pulled out his bathrobe, throwing it on as he moved to the door. He pulled it open just enough so the other person could see him. On the other side stood a courier. He held up a package.

"Harrington?"

Steve nodded. He pulled open the door and took the package then walked back inside. He looked at the package and it seemed as though it was from Billy. He put his bathrobe back and then sat on the bed with the package on his lap.

"Is this for me Alpha?"

"Why don't you open it and find out."

Steve pulled open the cardboard box. He wondered why Billy was sending him something else while he was talking to him. Normally anything from Billy came earlier in the day. Did he want to see his reaction? Inside the box were a lot of individually wrapped packages. All wrapped in soft pink tissue paper. He lifted one and ripped it open and inside was a vibrating cock ring. He glanced at Billy who licked his teeth at him.

"There should be a large rectangular one in there…"

With slightly shaky fingers Steve felt over the various packages until he felt a rectangular one. He lifted it out and slowly peeled away the tissue paper. His eyes widened when he read what it was, 'Himeros vibrating thruster.' It was a soft pink with a silver wing on the top adorned with a Swarovski crystal, his eyes ran over the details only really taking in some of it. Nine power thrust modes. Four vibrations. App remote control.

"Why don't we get you nice and ready for it?"

"You want me to use this?"

Billy nodded. Steve's heart started to race. He never expected to be put in this position. He only wanted to make a little money so he could eat but due to the reaction of his dad, he'd never felt comfortable as an Omega. Therefore he'd never explored what it was like to be one. He was hit with the sudden realisation that the only things he'd explored had been in this room with Billy. He'd never been touched, only looked at and to this point, he could walk away with his dignity mostly intact. All he'd done was spread himself open for Billy's pleasure but this was very different.

"It'll feel so good…I promise the best you've ever felt…until I finally get my hands on you…"

He could barely take in what Billy was saying. His mind was racing.

"C'mon Baby…I can get you nice and wet…"

"I dunno…I…"

"I'll make you a deal, Princess. You get yourself ready for the toy without coming and I'll pay your rent for the whole year."

"Rent?"

"Yes, Sweetheart…"

"And I don't have to use the toy?"

"Have it ready and see how you feel…"

If his rent was paid for the year he could eat better and sort himself out with some new clothes. Most of his new outfits he couldn't wear outside and New York was in the depths of winter. He took a deep breath and opened the toy's packaging. It felt smooth and soft in his hand but it also looked big and intimidating. He placed it on his bedside table and looked at Billy.

"Good boy, you won't regret it I promise…"

He stood up placed the box near the closet and stood in front of Billy once more.

"Turn around Sweetheart and show me those pretty little panties I got you…"

Steve took a deep breath. This was familiar. He slowly turned and slid the skirt up to his hips as he glanced over his shoulder. The heat in Billy's eyes was a welcome distraction.

"Take them off…slowly…"

He slid his fingers into the top of the panties letting the lace scratch against his fingers as he slowly moved them down his legs making sure he bent himself practically in half as he stepped out of them. The deepening of Billy's breathing made him feel a little better. He slowly moved back up straight then teasingly moved the skirt back in place so that only the bottom of his ass peeked out. He knew that Billy loved to tell him what to do but defying him a little seemed to make his blood run hot. He heard a growl and glanced over his shoulder. Billy was sitting up very straight. His eyes were wild and Steve knew if he was there he wouldn't stand a chance but Billy was on the other side of the country. He could look but he couldn't touch.

Steve turned around fully and let his fingers dance over his thighs. Billy's eyes followed the movement as his jaw firmed. He let his wrists brush against the skirt so that the fabric caressed his skin making his stomach flutter. He whimpered softly. It did feel good but it was to make Billy suffer.

He looked up at him through lowered lashes. He could only see him from the waist up but his whole body was coiled tight like a spring. His eyes burned through him as his teeth pressed against his lips. He wondered sometimes why someone like Billy spent his time on the site. He could see that he was a well-built attractive Alpha. He seemed to know what he wanted and he had the funds to pay for anything he desired so why not be with someone he could touch?

"On the bed Sweetheart…"

He turned and moved over to the bed. He knew what Billy wanted although it meant that Steve wouldn't be able to see him anymore. He crawled up onto the bed keeping himself on all fours before sinking the top part of his body onto the bed. He awkwardly reached back and slowly slid the skirt up until it was around his waist then he spread his legs a little more. Billy's groan let him know that he was doing exactly what he wanted. Normally it didn't go much further than this. Billy would get him to spread himself open and after Billy was finished so was Steve. He felt that nervous flutter as he knew today was going to be different. As he brought his hands up to spread himself he looked at the toy.

He couldn't even imagine it fitting inside him and the fact that it vibrates and thrusts. He felt a little lightheaded.

"Ok Baby I want you to press a finger up against that sweet little hole…"

Steve bit his lip to keep the whimper building inside. Equal parts humiliation and arousal mixed inside him until he couldn't tell them apart. He kept his left hand where it was so that he could keep himself spread. With his right, he brought his fingers up against his hole and started to run it around. He could feel to his continued humiliation that he was a little wet and groaned.

"Wet already? That's it, press a little harder…"

He did as he was told and the tip of his finger slid easily inside him. His face heated as he closed his eyes knowing that there was also a camera in his face so that Billy could enjoy him from all angles. His finger felt a little strange but his body fluttered around it as he pushed it in further. The toy danced behind his eyes as he moved it around trying to get used to the stretch.

"Fuck Princess you look so pretty all spread out like that…how does it feel?"

"G-good but…strange…"

"Push in a second finger…"

Steve did as he was told. The angle made it a little difficult but the stretch felt so good. As he moved them around he could feel himself getting wetter. Billy's groans and the growling tone of his voice helped.

"That's it…you look so good…taking it so well…imagine they're my fingers…you'd be stretched wide…I'd be sure to make you feel nothing but pleasure…"

Steve moaned at the thought. Billy's fingers seemed so thick and sure the times he'd seen them and he knew Billy would have no mercy on him.

"Alpha…please…"

"If I was there I'd cover you in marks…sink my teeth in just enough to make it hurt…lick over the bruises until you begged me to take you…"

Steve started to thrust his fingers inside himself. It felt good but something was missing. He couldn't quite get the angle right and Billy's voice was driving him crazy. He could see Billy's teeth in his mind. Could already feel them on his skin. His hot mouth, wicked tongue and all those sharp teeth. A little bit of pain to push his pleasure higher. He could feel the crop top sticking to his skin as his entire body seemed to be on fire.

"Please…please…"

"Your little fingers not enough to satisfy that greedy little hole of yours? Hmmm…need something a little more substantial…"

Steve hummed his assent.

"That toy is a perfect thickness…to get you nice and ready for me…it'll fill you up nicely…press up against all the spots you need…"

Steve slowly opened his eyes and looked at the toy. Where earlier it looked big and intimidating now it looked perfect. He pulled his left hand away from himself and moved it over towards it and with a little manoeuvring, he got it in a tight grip.

"That's it, Baby…now slowly pull your fingers free…"

Steve pulled his fingers from himself. He mourned their loss almost immediately.

"Now take a firm grip of the base and press it up against you…"

He did as he was told. The toy felt good against his skin. Almost as though it were real. He closed his eyes and pretended that Billy was behind him, his fingers unyielding on his hip as he sunk his teeth into his shoulder and his hot breath on his skin.

"Good now push Pretty Boy…"

Steve took a deep breath and pushed the toy inside. His body fluttered around it as it pressed in. Stretching him wide, filling him up until the tip pressed up against a spot that made colours flash behind his eyes. He whined.

"Fuck…so good…so good for me…how does it feel?"

"Good…oh god…please Alpha…please…"

"Place your hands back on the bed Sweetheart. That's it and brace yourself…"

Steve brought his hands up by his head. He was just about to ask why when he felt it. The toy moved inside him pressing further against that spot before retreating and then pushing back. Again and again. He sunk his fingers into the bedclothes in front of him as he cried out. Pleasure coursed through his body making his eyes water and his head foggy. He thought nothing had ever felt this good but he was wrong as soon it began to vibrate. The vibrations rattled his bones, made his stomach clench and his heart sing. He'd never felt anything like it. It was perfect. It was too much. It would never be enough. A loud whine erupted from his throat.

"Say my name, Princess…"

Steve opened his mouth to speak but he felt so overwhelmed that it was difficult to form words. The thrusts increased. His body fluttered around it harder while the rest turned to jelly.

"Say it Sweetheart or everything stops…"

"B-Billy…Billy please…"

"That's it, good boy…no one else will ever make you feel pleasure like this…soon you'll be coming around my knot…I'm gonna fill you so full you'll feel like you're going to burst…my sweet little Omega…mine…"

Steve came so hard that he collapsed down onto the bed. He felt the toy slow and stop. He didn't want it to move. He wanted to feel full for as long as possible but he'd become so wet that it finally slipped free much to his disappointment. He slowly turned and tried to catch his breath. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel his eyes growing heavy with sleep but he needed to finish things up with Billy. He pulled himself into a sitting position and then on wobbly legs he moved over towards the computer. Billy's eyes were so intense that he felt himself shiver with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Thank you, Alpha."

"Can you do one more thing for me, Princess?"

Steve blinked slowly at him. Billy's smile was sharp.

"It's nothing too taxing, just retrieving something from the box. It should be round."

Steve crawled over to the box shivering at Billy's soft growl. He dug through it until he found the package Billy was referring to. He pulled the tissue paper off to find a pale blue vibrating rimming butt plug. Even after everything he'd just done he felt his mouth fall open. He looked up at Billy who smiled at him.

"Tomorrow I want you ready and waiting at 5 o'clock sharp to follow my instructions and don't be late Sweetheart I have a meeting at 2:15 and you're going to help me get through it."

[praisehoes-and-runovervirgins]

I had another intense daydream about DILF Bakugou. It will be a continuation from my first one. 

Again, I am not a strong/good writer so please don’t come at me for mistakes. I also didn’t think I was going to get attached to the kids but haha I did. The oldest one’s name is Liam and the younger one’s name is Noah. 

Warning: Cursing and mutual pining.

----

The elevator door opens at his penthouse apartment, it was 8:30am and you were already there. Seems kinda eager Y/N. You stir in the elevator trying to calm yourself down pressing your hand to your chest taking a deep breath as the elevator door opens. You almost forgot how to breathe when you saw Bakugou standing there in front of the elevator holding two cups of coffee. “Good morning, you’re early” he says. She’s on time, I like that. Drinking you in before handing you a badly painted ceramic mug full of coffee and turning to walk to the kitchen. You quickly walk behind him. “I don’t know how you take your coffee. I have creamer if you want” he says as he pulls it out of the fridge and places it in front of you. “Just a little sugar” you say pushing past his hands grabbing the covered sugar that was on the counter. He grabs it before you can and places it in front of you but not before you hands touch for a moment. You jolt your hand back and smile warmly as you put a spoonful into your coffee and take a sip. That was cute. It’s silent as you two take turns staring at each other while the other looks around the house or out the window. Bakugou was wearing a black tank top that beautifully showcased the muscles that were scattered with scars as a result of years of hero work. He was wearing black pajama pants that hung low enough for you to almost see his happy trail. God, he looks so good. Stay calm. After you both finish your coffee he stands up and leads you up the staircase. The apartment looks bigger than last night, the light beaming in showcasing it’s grandness. Bakugou tells you about the boys, one is 11 and the other is 3 ½. He goes on to talk about them like if they’re the best thing to ever happen to him. Who would’ve thought he had a soft side. He looks so happy when he talks about them. I can’t fuck this up. 

You walk behind him as he enters the boy’s bedroom but stop in your tracks before entering looking at the sign that says, “NO GIRLS ALLOWED” in big bold badly written handwriting. “Hi” says the older one staring at you, arms crossed and tense. No one can deny that he’s Bakugou’s child. “Hi, my name is Y/N” you said with a warm smile. The little one ran to you hugging both your legs together almost making you fall over. “I like your name. You’re pretty. Why are you here?” he said all in one breath looking up at you. “She’s here to hang out with us today,” he said, mirroring the older one. “Do we really need a babysitter?” said the older one under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear him. Bakugou looked at him and said, “Yes, you can do your own thing but Y/N’s here to mostly help your brother” he grunted annoyed at the older one’s questioning. Wow you can cut the tension with a knife. The little one hangs on your legs and you bend down to hold him in your arms. “You smell good. She’s mine now” wrapping his arms around your neck and red eyes staring daggers at his dad and brother. Yeah, he’s bakugou’s kid for sure too. “You can keep her” the older one says under his breath rolling his eyes pushing past you leaving the room. The rest of the morning went well, you spent most of the time with the little one. You guys had breakfast together. Bakugou made pancakes and eggs while the little one showed you his massive Almighty collection. The bigger one walking by from time to time just to see what you both were doing.

 After breakfast it was bathtime. You were giving the younger one a bath when Bakugou walked by. He looked in and he wouldn’t help but smile at the view of you kneeled down in front of the tub blowing bath bubbles, praising the little one for being so good at it. I think I did the right thing. Look at how happy he is. He deserves to have a content woman in his life. They’re perfect together. Don’t fuck this up man. He leans against the door frame. The little one notices and looks past Y/N at his dad. “What are we doing today daddy?” he says with a hopeful smile it’ll be something fun. “Yeah, what are we doing today daddy?”. You pause covering your mouth immediately after saying it. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. “U-Um I was thinking about the park, movie at home then dinner. How does that sound?” he said staring at the back of your head then at the little one. “YESSSSSSSSS” the little one jumped up out of the bathtub slashing your shirt as a result. You all laugh. You turn to grab the towel hanging on the sink and your eyes meet. His eyes are so intense. He probably wants to fire me. God, why would I say that. Little did you know Bakugou melted at the sound of you calling him that. Something about was so natural like it just melted off your tongue. The morning went normal as well. There were moments where you could feel Bakugou’s eyes on you. You peek at him for a second just for your eyes to meet and him to look away at the last second. When you arrive at the park you clench at your purse full of park necessaries. The two boys run away as soon as they see the playground. You sat yourself down beside Bakugou, not moving your eyes from the little one. Some time passes before you finally say, “I-I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to call you that. I-I was just repeating what he said” you explained not making eye contact. Bakugou’s heart broke a little. He didn’t mind it all. He was actually thinking about it the whole time. Imaging you calling him that over and over. “I didn’t mind,” he says, staring at you and letting out a little giggle. “I thought I made things awkward” letting out a sigh of relief moving her eyes to meet his. His eyes can really turn a hole into anyone huh. Her whole body relaxed as she put the purse on the side of the bench. “You didn't,” he said, looking out at the little one as he waved from the highest part of the playground. She sat there as they began to make small talk. “Y/N, come here. Come play with me!” the little one yelled at the top of lungs. “Coming!” you call out jumping to your feet, your breast giggling as you stand up. Bakugou noticed. Bakugou is left there watching you and the little one giggling and hugging each other. I can get used to this. 

The little one was playing in the sandbox while you were standing on the outside watching him and praising him for doing a good job. “Hey, I’ve never seen you here before” A voice says behind you, making you jump. “No, I’ve never been to this park” you say looking up at the man. He was pretty handsome, tall and wearing a bookbag probably full of park supplies. “Is that your kid? He’s cute” he says, waving at the little one. “No, I’m just the babysitter” you say, turning back around to face the boy. You turn your head to look at Bakugou and he’s already on his way over to you. “Hey man, can I help you?” He steps between you and the man. Bakugou towering over the poor man. “Oh shit, dynamight. I’m a huge fan” he says reaching out to grab his hand but Bakugou just stares at him. You are intensely staring at the two men until the little one grabs you and pulls you away from them and towards the swings. “Man, your babysitter is hot, but I’m guessing you already knew that. We’ve all been checking her out” the man said, staring at you and pointing at the group of men all staring at you as you push the little on the swing. “What?” he said looking around at all the men staring at you like a piece of meat. OH FUCK NO. He didn’t even notice how good you looked in that outfit. WHY WERE THERE SO MANY MEN HERE WTF. You bent over to tie the little one’s shoes putting your whole ass on display. He would almost hear the men gasp and whisper disgusting things about you to each other. Little explosion started in his hands. Calm down. The man walked away at that point seeing how angry he looked. He walked over to you and grabbed you by the wrist, “Lets go” he said almost growling. “Yeah, is everything okay?” you say confused. “Fucking extras..” he said looking around letting go of your wrist. You grab the little one and call out to the bigger that they’re leaving. The whole car ride was awkward. He kept looking at you from time to time and scuffing. What’s up with the mental gymnastics?. What happened? Did the guy say something about you? You barely talked to him. The next few weeks were filled with laughs, cuddles and love while you were in the Bakugou home from the little one and occasional engagement from the older one. Bakugou wanted to make you feel more at home so he would buy flowers and candles and put them around the apartment. It was a nice thought. 

One day you can hear him stirring and cursing under his breath in his office when you walk by. “Are you coming to watch the movie with us daddy” said the little one as he came into the office. “Nah. You guys can watch it. I’ll sit this one out” he said turning around in his computer chair to look at him. “No, I really want you to. We have to watch it like a family.” he looks up at him and attempts to do the world’s best puppy dog face. “I don’t think so” he twirls in his computer chair back to the computer. “I think It'll make Y/N pretty happy.” he says squinting at him. “Right Y/N?” Manipulative little brat “It would make me very happy” you straighten your back as you hear your name. “Okay” he says standing up from his chair walking behind you as you go to put on a movie while sitting on the couch. The little one was firmly placed on your lap while the older one was on the other side of the coach on their phone. Bakugou sat next to you placing his arm above the coach behind you. 30 minutes into the movie both Bakugou and the little one were snoring. The little one now wrapped around your chest drooling on your collarbone and bakugou knocked out on your shoulder. This felt nice. You continued and watched the movie trying your hardest not to laugh loud enough for both of them to wake up. Once the movie ended it was already dark out so you decided to shift your way out of bakugou’s grasp now firmly wrapped around your waist and bring the little one to bed. The older one watching your every move. 

You’re about to wake up bakugou still knocked out on the couch when you hear, “You’re not our mom you know”. You turn around to see the older one standing there, arms crossed. “I didn’t think I was honey” you say softly walking over him. He steps back and stares at you. “Y-You’re acting like-like our mom used to” he said in almost a whisper. “I’m not here to replace your mom my love. I’m just here to make your family’s life a little easier. I’m sorry if I’m stepping on anyone toes.” He huffed in response. “I just miss her sometimes and you kinda..” He stops himself. You sit down in one of the stools in front of him. “I’m here if you wanna talk about it” you say looking at him. You were unsure about what happened to their mom. Bakugou never mentioned her and neither did the kids. It was almost like she didn’t exist until now. “She left us a while ago. She told us she was coming back for us but she never did. I-I don’t know why” he looked like he was going to cry. You jumped out of your seat to hug him but he rejected it, pushing your arms away. “I can’t trust you. You’re going to leave just like her” he said as he ran to his room and slammed the door. You didn’t want to leave him like this. You couldn’t leave him like this. You waited a while and decided to make him his favorite meal, spicy ramen. You go in front of the door and knock, “I left some spicy ramen in front of the door. I figured you were hungry” you say leaning against the door. No answer. You can hear the door slowly creak open as you walk away and you smile.

 You walk away going downstairs to clean up the mess you made. “Hey” a voice says from the couch. Bakugou stretches his huge muscles and it makes your knees feel a little weak. “Hey sleepy head” you say lovingly. “How long was I out?” he said looking for a clock. “I’m not sure, A while I guess. I finished watching the movie a while ago” you said scrubbing the dish. “Oh” he said in a raspy voice. “Anything happened?” he said, reading your tense body language. “Liam brought up his mom” you said biting your bottom lip not meeting his eyes. “Oh fuck, that agan” he says wiping his mouth with his hand then rubbing his neck. “Yeah, he was pretty upset. Do you mind if I sleep over. I’ll sleep on the couch if anything. I want to make him his favorite breakfast in the morning.” you look up at Bakugou almost with tears in your eyes. She really likes my kids, wow. “U-Um yeah, you can sleep over whenever you like. We have an extra bedroom. I kinda like it better than you going home.” he says looking for your reaction. “I really only use my place to sleep and come back here anyways” you say giggling. “Then you should just move here” he says. 

You both stare at each other. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you said trying to conceal your smile.

Tag: @lil-miminini ❤️