#and even she needs to earn it every time

[kc5rings]

Kal'tsit/Gladiia for the Arknights ask.

"A fine woman indeed/a dance on a dried-out meadow"

10+ potentially but it rarely actually gets to that point

I touched on my thoughts for Kal’tsit/Gladiia briefly once before and I pretty much stand by that, these two very rarely get the chance to have time alone together for anything much less kink

But, they both excel at playing the subtlety game.

A lingering touch as a paper is passed from one hand to another… fingers sliding under the edge of glove as they stand at the periphery of a meeting… All these small acts that carry the weight of understanding, each one noting the reactions of the other to the most minute detail and inferring meaning from it all

This all builds up to the point that when they DO have the chance, the sex is scorchingly hot. Usually with Kal’tsit as an extremely hard to impress sub and Gladiia doing her best to live up to those expectations

[website-com]

since pepper was asking for it something that girls do that always makes me think 'cool gender' is not change their names despite it being historically masculine and re-defining the name through their identity and relationship to it.

[fangirlwithasweettooth]

Me? Going absolutely insane over every single Kanej moment in both the books and the series? It’s more likely than you think

[britneyshakespeare]

i had a really weird interaction on youtube the other week. i commented on a short tv clip of someone gay doing something funny a few years ago and i said smth sweet and generic like “oh wow that’s cute i love him” and it became a top comment so sometimes i still get notifications of ppl liking or replying to it. 

but for some reason, you know how faceless people on the internet will say their most shallow and judgmental thoughts to a real person like it’s not the rudest thing you can do? yeah that happened. i had left the most impersonal, inoffensive comment in the world but someone responded to me “just admit you’re only entertained bc he’s obviously gay and you project your lack of a personality onto that”

and i was just like. honestly shocked. like what? you literally don’t know me at all. i didnt even say I WAS GAY in the comment or anything about being gay it was LITERALLY just a tv clip i thought was funny and cute. but this angry homophobe who clearly just hates to see queer ppl have fun and make jokes on the internet made it *my* problem...

and like first of all i don’t do that. i don’t just identify w everyone i come across who is queer and funny and root for them for that reason alone. the only person i project my lack of personality onto is dave davies... ok... chill out that’s not what i watch jeopardy for, that’s why i listen to the kinks

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

wait, Derin how did your leaving make the hospital shut down?

I used to work as a live-in nanny for a pediatrician.

Now, the thing about hospitals in my country is that they are massively understaffed and massively underfunded. This is especially true outside the major cities. The staff are worked to the bone and receive little to no help in things like finding accommodation or childcare, making working in rural areas a very uninviting prospect; staff come out here, get lumped with the work of three people (because there's nobody else to do it), burn out under the workload and leave, meaning that those remaining have even more work because that person is gone. It's unsustainable and the medical staff are doing their best to sustain it, because people die if they don't, so to the higher-ups it looks like everything's getting done and therefore everything is fine.

My friend (and boss) worked one week on, one week off, swapping out with another pediatrician. This was necessary because it would not be physically possible for one person to handle the workload for longer periods of time. The one single pediatrician had to hold up the entire pediatrics ward, which was not only the only public hospital pediatrics ward in our town, but also the one that served all the towns around us for a few hours' drive in all directions. I regularly saw her go to work sick, aching, tired, or with a debilitating 'I can barely make words or see' level migraine, because if she took a day off, twenty children didn't get healthcare that day, and some of these kids' appointments were scheduled weeks in advance. She'd work long hours in the day and then be called in a couple of times overnight for an hour or two at a time (she was on-call at night too, because somebody had to be), and then go in the next day. Sometimes she would be forced to take a day off because she physically could not stay awake for longer than a few minutes at a time, meaning she couldn't drive to work.

Cue my niece's second birthday coming up in Melbourne. I'd been working for her for about 3 years, and she (and the hospital) had plenty of advance warning that I (and therefore she) needed one (1) Friday off. That's fine, we'll find someone to work that Friday, the hospital said. Right up until the last week where they're like "oh, we can't find a replacement; you can come in, can't you?"

No, she tells them; I don't have anyone to watch my kid that day.

Oh, surely you can hire a babysitter for this one day, they say. Think of the children! We really really need you to work that day. I know we said it'd be fine but we need you now, there's no one else to do it.

There are no other babysitters, she told them. Unless you can find one?

That's not our responsibility, they said.

But I'm not changing my plans, she's got plans by now as well, the hospital knew about this one day weeks in advance, and with absolutely no reserve staff they're forced to reschedule all pediatrics appointments for that Friday. Not a huge deal, it happens on the 'physically too overworked to get out of bed' days too. I go to Melbourne, she goes back to her home in Adelaide for her recovery week, all should be on track.

My niece gives me Covid.

This was way back in the first wave of the pandemic, and there were no Covid vaccines yet. The rules were isolate, mask up, hope. I had Covid in the house, and it would've been madness for my friend and her toddler to come back into the Covid house instead of staying in Adelaide. There was absolutely no way that a pediatrician could live with someone in quarantine due to Covid and go to work in the hospital with sick children every day. And no support existed for finding another babysitter, or temporary accommodation, so the hospital was down a pediatrician.

The other pediatrician wasn't available to do a three-week stint. They were also trapped in Adelaide on their well-earned week off.

Meaning that the only major pediatrics ward within a several-hour radius had no pediatricians. They had to shut down and send all urgent cases to Adelaide for the week. To the complete absence of surprise of any of the doctors or nurses; of course this would happen, this was bound to happen, it presumably keeps happening. But probably to the surprise of the higher-ups. After all, the hospital was doing fine, right? Of course all the staff were complaining of overwork and a lack of resources in every meeting, but they could always be fobbed off with the promise of more help sometime in the future; the work was mostly getting done, so the issue couldn't be too urgent.

It's not like some nanny who doesn't even work for the hospital could go out of town for a weekend for the first time in three years, and get the only public pediatrics ward in the area shut down for a week.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s never given much thought to babies before.

When he was younger, enough time was spent scorning his father and the childhood he was depriving him of, that any thoughts of becoming a dad himself one day were nonexistent. As far as he was concerned, he was essentially already a stand in parent to his younger brother.

As he grew older and enlisted, his life becoming one that consisted of nothing more than violence and destruction and terror, he thought the odds of him surviving into his 30’s were so slim that he need never bother worrying about having a ‘next of kin’.

That was until, he met you, of course.

Because now that Simon Riley has you in his life, he’s not quite so pessimistic about his existence the way he once was, doesn’t picture a foreboding dark cloud when he considers what his future could be. What a future with you could be.

Still, as much time as the two of you spend actually engaging in the baby making process, Simon really only considers babies as being something that other people have, not him.

Not with his line of work, not with the risks that come alongside the territory, not when he already can barely stand to leave you for deployment, let alone leave you behind with a child on top of everything.

No, Simon is perfectly content with his life where babies are just another anomale.

But then, your best friend announces she’s pregnant. And the sight of you holding a positive pregnancy test in your hands, changes something within him.

Suddenly, Simon is noticing chubby, drooling little infants everywhere he goes.

Fat babies shoved into the uncomfortable looking seats of grocery carts pass by him in the shops, crying babies strapped to their mums on the tube, sleeping babies being pushed around in their prams without a care in the world. Even on base, he notices more people talking about their children, showing off picture of their offspring.

He’s looking at you a little different as well. His gaze on you will darken as you and your friend chat about baby names, casually mentioning the ones that you like for yourself. His grip will tighten around the shopping cart when you wave to passing babies, making them giggle. He’s surprised at the way his cock twitches when you pretend to hold a breast pump up to your own chest, wrapping the baby shower gift you’d gotten her.

It only takes so long for you to notice the change in him as well.

You’ll be strolling through the park on a chilly morning when a young family goes by, Simon muttering something about how the little bald headed infant ‘should have a hat on for fuck’s sake, cold out ‘ere’. You’ll be in the shops, when suddenly Simon returns holding a pair of teeny tiny baby shoes in his hand, appearing comically small in his large calloused palms, wondering if maybe your friend would like them. You’re sitting outside a cafe while a pair of chubby cheeked babies are sat in their strollers staring at Simon as if their lives depended on it. You’re giggling to yourself, watching your boyfriend stare right back at these little girls, when the 6’4” tank of a man slowly lifts a gloved hand and waves at them, earning a pair of gummy smiles in return.

The most evident change in Simon however, is in bed.

Almost overnight, he goes from never having considered children, to suddenly dedicating every effort to getting you pregnant by the end of the year, month, week.

[harrysfolklore]

max verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation

summary: max verstappen can’t help but talk about his girlfriend whenever he cans, fans make compilation videos about it

folkie radio: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAXIEEE, it's been a minute since the last time i did a compilation blurb and this felt like the perfect occasion to bring them back, i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the best driver of his generation is known for his incredible driving skills and relentless pursuit of victory on the track.

However, behind the wheel, Max has another passion that rivals his love for racing: his girlfriend.

In every interview, press conference, and social media post, Max can't help but gush about her, seamlessly sharing stories of their life together into conversations about lap times and race strategies.

Fans quickly began doing compilation videos about all the times he mentioned his girlfriend publicly, and those gathered millions of views across social media platforms.

The most popular one was called "Max Verstappen being the perfect boyfriend: a compilation," and it began with a video of Max arriving to the paddock for media day, Red Bull's social media team filming him while he answered some rapid fire questions.

"Waffles or Pancakes? You know I used to love pancakes but I think I've had too many because my girlfriend is obsessed with making them," he said as he signed some stuff, "So I would go for Waffles at the moment, but if my girlfriend is watching this I'd say I take her pancakes every day."

The next clip was from a post qualifying interview, and of course, Max earned the pole position, the interviewer had asked him what was expecting for the race the following day.

"To win of course, that's what I'm here for," he said with so hesitation, "But I'm also looking forward to it because my girlfriend will be here, it's the first race she attends this season and I can't wait to see her in the crowd while I take on the podium."

The video moved to show Max with his teammate Sergio Perez, they were playing a game of Green Flag or Red Flag, they were asked about people who film themselves at the gym and Max immediately waved the red flag.

"I actually don't go to the gym anymore," Max added, "I get annoyed by everyone else so I just exercise at home."

"So no topless selfies, not even at home," the interviewer said.

"I don't need to impress anyone, I've got my girlfriend, so," Max shrugged.

The next clip was taken from Max's own Youtube channel, he was showing some of his preparation routine for a race, that included some neck training, checking statistics, quick meetings with his team and engineers among other things.

And of course, his girlfriend made an appearance, standing in a corner watching everything unfold. He approached her, race suit on and helmet in hand, kissed her lips gently as she caressed his arm.

"Be safe out there okay?" her voice could be faintly heard.

"Always schatje, I love you."

In the next segment, Max had just earned his second world championship and was doing a casual interview for a sports channel.

"Do you have your girlfriend now call you 'Two time world champion Max Verstappen' or just Max,"

"Definitely not the first one," Max laughed, "She'd never do that, she says she likes to keep me humble."

"Your girlfriend has a pet name for you?" the guy asked again.

"We call each other a bit different but I prefer not to say that on camera," Max laughed again, "I don't want the internet to make fun of me for being cheesy."

The next clip was from Max's streamings, he was too immersed in a game that he didn't hear his girlfriend come into the room, noticing her presence when she leaned into him.

Out of habit of keeping their privacy, he covered the camera but forgot to turn his mic off.

"Schatje I'm streaming," he said, unaware that everyone could hear him.

"Oh I'm sorry, I was going to ask if you could feed the cats but I'll do it myself," his girlfriend spoke.

"No I'll do it, just let me get off the stream,"

"Baby, there's no need," she insisted.

"I was missing you anyways, just give me a minute."

His audience couldn't see anything but they clearly heard how Max kissed his girlfriend's lips, turning his attention back to the screen, he realized that he was broadcasting their conversation to everyone.

His viewers went wild in the chat, spamming heart emojis and comments about how sweet the couple was. Max ended the stream with a laugh, addressing his fans. "Alright, you heard the boss. I gotta go feed the cats. See you all next time."

On the same note, another clip from a video for RedBull with Checo was included, they had been asked to show the most recent picture in their phones.

"Oh it's from this morning, my girlfriend with the kids," Max said, showing the picture to the camera.

"The kids?" Checo asked with a laugh.

"The cats are our kids," Max shrugged, "Jimmy and Sassy Verstappen."

A particularly touching moment was from a press conference after a difficult race. Max had finished fifth, a rare position for him given his usual dominance. When asked how he dealt with setbacks, he gave a candid response.

"It can be tough, but my girlfriend always knows how to lift my spirits. She's my biggest supporter and always finds the right words to say. Just being with her makes everything better, no matter how bad the race went."

During a clip of Max giving a tour of the Red Bull factory, he stopped at a wall covered in race-winning memorabilia. Among the trophies and champagne bottles, there was a small, framed photograph.

"This is special to me," Max pointed it out, "It's from my first win with Red Bull. But look closer..."

The camera zoomed in to show a young woman in the background of the photo, cheering in the pit lane.

"That's my girlfriend," Max said softly. "She was there for my first win, and she's been there for every one since - even if she can't always be at the track. The team knew how much that meant to me, so they made sure she was in this photo when they framed it."

In the next segment, Max was asked about his favorite off-track activity.

"I love cooking," Max grinned, "Well, more like watching my girlfriend cook. She's amazing in the kitchen, and I'm just there to taste-test everything."

The compilation included a moment during a press conference, Max addressed a question about his girlfriend facing criticism online. The question arose after she received negative comments following a public appearance with him.

"Look, it's tough sometimes," Max began, his expression turning serious. "She didn't choose this life, but she supports me through everything. It's not fair for her to get hate just because of who she's dating. If you have a problem with me that's fine but don't go after my family or my girlfriend because that is just unacceptable."

The final clip that wrapped the video us was from the FIA Prize Giving ceremony, Max received his trophy for winning the 2023 championship.

In his acceptance speech, he thanked his team, his family, and, of course, his girlfriend.

"Winning races and championships is amazing, but having someone by your side who believes in you and supports you unconditionally is truly special. To my girlfriend, thank you for being my rock and my biggest cheerleader. I love you."

The screen faded to black, showing a text that read: Max Verstappen, three time world champion and the perfect boyfriend.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: NSFW, dubcon, bathroom sex, bullying, overall just really filthy smut, virgin insert, virginity loss, somewhat dom reader, somewhat bully reader, somewhat yandere reader

♡ FEM reader

You look like one of those girls that never smiles. Like, if he were to take that empty seat next to you in the lecture hall, you’d scowl with stink eyes and then proceed to fully ignore him. Yeah, a real bitch. That's what you look like—scary. He bets all your socials are filled with the same picture—the same deadpanned pouty face over and over, every single one with hundreds of likes and comments saying “Wow, babe!” followed by a dozen emojis from besties and horny admirers. Selfies in the mirror, showing off skin in your tight tops and short skirts—similar to the outfit you’re wearing now. Captions saying, “You can look, but you could never touch.” Yeah, he bets you’re a real attention whore. And the worst part is that you’re not even overselling, either. You’re gorgeous—even with that sour look on your face, he’d pay cold, hard-earned cash in exchange for a pair of your worn panties.

Yeah, there’s no way he’d dare sit next to you. He’s already sweating bullets just thinking about it. Even though you’re one in a million similar girls who wouldn’t give him the time of day, he's still one in a million loser incels who would do anything for it. And that’s the cold reality.

Even if he’d like to get just a whiff of your sweet perfume, he can’t. The status quo forbids it. He’s afraid the jocks will smell fresh blood in the water the moment he does, then swarm him in a matter of seconds, circling before tearing him to shreds. They’d beat him to a pulp in the bathroom, smash his head in over the sink—piss in the toilet, then flush it down with his bloodied face—and he’d have to walk reeking of it all the way home.

So, no—he really can’t sit next to you. 

But no other seats are available, and the lecture is starting soon… 

Why did absolutely everyone decide to show up today?

Oh fuck it, this isn’t high school. College bullies surely don’t bother with petty cases like this, right? They’re all about their frat initiations and rivalries to have enough spare time to beat him up over improper seating. Oh, but what if you’re one of their girlfriends—you’ll tell on him, and then he’ll definitely be beaten up, maybe even killed.

No. He’s overthinking—like always. No one is that mean. If you don’t like him sitting there, you’ll just tell him. And he’ll move. No harm done. Right? He’s not sitting in the stairwell when there’s a perfectly good and empty seat right there, right? Is he?

Yes. Yes, he is. 

“Hey, if you’re looking for a seat, this one’s empty,” a sweet voice calls out over his inner monologue, making him clutch the strap of his bookbag tighter with a flinch of his entire rigid body—his eyes peeled as he looked around to try and find the source of the sound even though he knew where it had come from. It’s as if the possibility of your voice sounding like anything aside from a she-demon was out of the question. But no, it is you. 

But there’s no way you’re talking to him, so he looks around again—there must be someone else in need of the seat aside from him. But then, why are you looking right at him? Are you pulling some type of prank? Are you really that cruel? You’re probably filming him or something—live-streaming—the chat’s blaring with ew, what a creep and omg, uggo alert right about now. He should just go home before the jocks, along with the rest of the internet, can get him.

“Are you okay?” you ask—but no, he must be hearing you wrong—there’s just no way, even though you’re looking right at him. “I think it’s starting soon—you should probably sit.”

It’s as if his fight or flight response is broken because he does the exact opposite of either—as if on autopilot, sitting down in a rush against his better judgment.

The lecture starts shortly, solidifying his choice, but he can’t pay attention. No, he needs to keep his guard up. Any second now, someone’s going to do a drive-by and throw a milkshake at him or something vile of the like, and you’ll have filmed it all even though he can’t spot you holding a phone—and then the entire hall would burst into laughter at his expense.

“Pst—” A soft whisper comes from next to him, from between the gloss of your pretty lips. You smell like candy and fruit, and it makes his gut tighten—both from anxiety and something more shameful. “I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have a pen I could borrow? Mine’s all out’a ink.”

You give him an awkward smile, and he very nearly runs away. But no, he’s glued to the seat—with nervously wrecked hands shaking as he bends for his bag and unzips it, reaching for his pencil case painfully slow as if disarming some type of bomb. Redoing the same when he opens the case and rummages for a viable pen he could offer.

When he hands it to you, he’s almost sure you plan to stab him with it. But you do no such thing.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver!” You cheer instead, beaming with a much brighter smile than before. “I owe you!”

His ears ring with your praise. Blushing beat red as he rips away from your gaze—still unable to focus on what the professor is preaching—not when from out of the corner of his eye, he can see you sucking on his pen like a lollypop—or something else not so innocent.

Oh, he’d been so wrong.

So, so, so very wrong.

You do smile. You smile a lot, actually. You just have one of those faces that rests bitchy. But still, bubbly airhead or not, a girl like you still shouldn't be seen with a loser like him. It’s social suicide. And still, you’re on your knees before him in a dirty little bathroom stall—the same dirty bathroom stall he feared getting a swirlie, scraping the walls with his nails to try and thwart his assailants—only, now clutching the walls for a much different reason, holding on for his mortal soul as you seek to suck it out of his fat throbbing cock.

You want to repay him—you’d said—for the pencil. He hadn't understood why you’d winked at him before you’d all but dragged him off and flung him inside the men’s bathroom, having his very life flash before his eyes.

You both make the sloppiest sounds as you make an utter mess on and of him, making him cry on all fronts—cock weeping with thick pearly beads of pre while his eyes well up with tears down his flushed face, all sweaty with panic and bliss. 

The moans springing from his chest are virginal and raw and sweet music to your ears, panting for you like a puppy—you’re sure they can hear him out in the hallway when passing by. One of his hands clasps itself on top of his mouth, holding tightly to keep it all within—eyes shut and brows cinched. And yet, he makes no effort to shove you off—hips left jerking and jittering in response to your refined technique where you take him deeply, all the way down to the base, hallowing your cheeks, throttling him with your throat as your tongue wipes his creamy slit clean.

It’s painfully clear he’s never experienced anything like it, but that’s what turns you on the most. Sick as you are, you could suck him dry and savor every drop of him, knowing you’re the first ever to get a taste. But no, by now, your pussy’s so soaked you feel yourself dripping past the soggy lace of your panties, running down your soft thighs in waste.

He’s misty-eyed when you pull off with an ever-cruel pop—a sick mix of relief and sorrow warping his chest, feeling conflicted by the pulse making him think he’s on the verge of a heart attack if you continue—and another strumming his cock, making him think he’s going to keel over and die if you leave him unfinished.

Even so, he’s in a state of complete shell shock as you mount him on top of the toilet seat he’s melting against. Chest heaving, watching you as you lift your skirt up and peal your slick underwear to the side for him to lay his bleary swiveled eyes on your bared and dripping pussy.

“I love nice guys like you—” you moan, pouring the honeyed words down his throat as you ghost his parted lips with your spit-slicked ones, straddling his lap and shimmying ever closer until your tits squish against his chest. “They make me so wet, I lose all self-control.” 

He gulps in your shadow, looking up at you for mercy—cock twitching painfully between your thighs as your wrap your hand around his base real snug, giving him a nice tug as you line him up with your needy heat—making him all but squeal beneath you.

Your other hand makes its way into his hair, braiding your fingers within the locks to hold him steady—gently pulling his head back while leering down at him like caught prey. Playing with him just so, teasing him with your words, all in your sultry voice, making his head spin hot with a fever, “You’ll be a good boy and fuck me, won’t you? Pretty please?”

His breaths are heavy and wet, coming out shaky with his instant answer, “Y-yes—” all weak in a pathetic whimper that almost has you cum too soon.

“You’re so nice~ thank you,” you croon against his lips, kissing him sloppily with your tongue in his mouth as you shift your hips and start lowering your sopping cunt down upon his seeking length, taking him in with greedy ease, eagerly gripping his soft cockhead like a toy in a claw machine.

“Fhu—fuck—” he stutters under his breath, whinging before planting his teeth into his lip to keep it at bay—feeling like putty beneath you, sweaty and heavy and dumb, eagerly wanting all which you sought to give him—only more flushed at your mean undertones as you play with him like food on a silver platter.

You sling your arms around his neck and push your chest harder against him, moaning all too brazenly, “Oh! Fuck yes—that’s so good,” you sing while slowly taking him in further. “A nice guy with a big bad bully’s dick is the best!” 

He whines in return as his inches get eaten—each devoured one by one until his tip kneads into the mouth of your womb.

Sighing happily, you kiss his cheek and put your lips right at his ear with another wanton whimper, “You fill me up so so good.” Roosting on the size, thighs resting flush against his, feeling all giddy as it stretches you out oh-so-nicely. “Such a good toy-cock for me,” keening at the way it twitches inside you, pulsing in response to your tight walls, clenching it in ways it’s never before felt.

His eyes are already rolling back into his skull once you start lolling your hips—riding him, but keeping him deep at all times—lifting just enough for it to pull out only a little before sinking back down, making it settle into that perfect needy little spot inside you that makes your whole body shiver in delight.

“Mmh,” You suck his ear lobe, releasing it with a soft bite, before smiling down at him and his sweat-pilled expression. Cooing at him, “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He can’t even answer with words anymore, only giving a dumb mewl as he nods his head. But, of course, you’re already well aware.

“Mmh—” your eyes gleam with delight, giving his lap a mean ride, leaving him all but breathless, before asking, “D’you like it, virgin boy? ‘You like my pussy? Like the way it milks your chubby cock for your cum?”

He nods again, even more eagerly this time—looking downright pathetic in every sense of the word.

“Do you want to?” you offer to his desperation, feeling as though he’s falling apart at your fingertips, needing you to hold him together. “I’ll let you since you’re such a sweet guy—” you tease while clenching his cock, making it impossible to want anything else no matter the consequence. “In exchange for a favor, of course.”

He couldn’t care less what the favor was—way beyond willing to pay any price you ask of him as he finally makes a move and grabs your hips with a strength you hadn’t thought he had the balls to perform, planting you down firmly and holding you with such need as his hips jitter and stutter—resting his cheek on your shoulder in drool and tears with a lovesick groan leaving him as he fills your pussy up with his creamy spend.

His whole body shakes—spasming in cute little aftershocks as he clutches onto your body, hugging you tightly.

You respond in kind, cuddling him and kissing the top of his head. “That was so warm and filling—what a good boy—you did so well,” you murmur ever-sweetly while petting his head, combing through his sweaty locks with your long glitter-pink nails—keeping your voice saccharine. “Did you enjoy yourself, hm? Your first time cumming in pussy instead of your dirty ol’ sock?”

You pick his face up—cupping his sloppy jaw in both palms—his eyes half-mast and glazed as you nose-kiss him with a smile on your face.

“You loved it, didn’t you? Silly virgin boy…”

Your cunt tingles at the sight of him—wrecked beauty, sweaty and undone. You feel his cock unswell inside you and decide to lift off and release him—letting it flop out and splat on his tummy in a puddle of slick.

“Look,” you fuss, holding his face in direction of it. “You made such a pretty mess—isn’t it lovely?”

Your pussy is left glistening and puffy, still wanting and waiting for its final hurrah. Your breath turns headier and so does your voice, now with a new darkness to it as  you whisper, “Time for that favor, sweet boy.” 

He blinks dumbly, impossibly hopeless, wrapped so tightly around your pinky it’s pitiful. Of course, you take advantage—guiding his head to level with your cunt. 

“Open wide, tongue out flat.”

He obeys wordlessly. And oh god it makes your gut stir viscously—watching his tongue loll free between parted lips.

Your voice flares with bliss at the sight, shy of unhinged, as you giggle breathily, “That’s right—taste the pretty mess you made.”

He’s pushed face-first, trapped between your thighs with his jaw like an open cup beneath you, tonguing the mixed slick from your slit and slurping it all up without shame.

And fuck—it feels so good, you lose even more of your mind while tugging him even closer—all but pulling him off the toilet seat, making him kneel down on the floor instead. And still, he makes no effort to escape, but the opposite—seeking to go deeper into your cunt, crying into you as he laps up every last drop of yours and his arousal—making your thighs quake around him, grinding down against his mouth, onto his eager tongue, having it pet your clit over and over until you also come to the same sudden stumbling halt.

“Yes—yes! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna—it’s coming—”

And there it goes, ripping along your loins, surging from your lower belly. With both your hands tangled harshly in his hair, he’s not going anywhere, lips locked with yours as it starts pouring.

You’re squirting on him—hot and hard—on his tongue, inside his mouth, down his throat, in his belly. You’re squirting on him and he’s drinking it, he realizes—but even so, he isn’t able to stop. Instead, he unwinds his jaw even wider, digs his tongue deeper, and accepts every drop of the warm stream as it drenches his face and splashes down his collar and shoulders, utterly soaking his shirt, making in see-through as it clings to his chest like a second skin.

You’ve closed your eyes and thrown your head back, basking in every last little twitch of your body as you relieve yourself all over his face.

Finally, after a moment, you let go of his hair and step back—feeling refreshed and happy with your work—seeing the poor loser sit before the toilet, all drenched and exhausted with his limp cock spent and messy, looking like a beautiful wreck.

You smile, pulling your panties back in place, and you skirt down again before unlocking the stall and opening the door, only looking back at him for a moment, tapping your nail at a few matching pink scribbles written on the wall. “Here’s my number and address if you wanna have more fun." And then you leave, just like that. "Bye-bye~”

♡ BNHA – Amajiki, Deku, Shigaraki, Shinso ♡ JJK – Yuuta, Choso, Nanami ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kenma ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Isagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Sakura, Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[chongoblog]

Hey all my fellow Americans.

Vote.

Like, seriously, if you can, vote.

Preferably for Kamala.

“But Kamala is really bad”. Yes she is, and I can guarantee you that the alternative is going to be worse. Trump is literally running “Mass Deportation Now” as a slogan and saying that immigrants are poisoning the blood of our country with him and his VP knowingly spreading false rumors that Haitian are eating people's dogs and cats. And he’ll probably appoint even more religious zealots onto our Supreme Court who will last quite a long time.

“I’m sick of picking the lesser of two evils. She should EARN my vote” I agree. And in a just world she would have to do that. But of the two parties, one is FAR more likely to implement policies that will make it so she has to like Ranked Choice Voting.

“So you’re saying to support genocide?” Voting is not advocating for a candidate’s policies. ESPECIALLY in the dogshit political hellscape we live in.

"Voting for a Democrat isn't going to make the changes that need to be made." You're right again! Voting alone isn't going to make those changes. But between the two parties, I think one of them is going to be easier to organize under, and it isn't the one who said that cops should shoot protestors during the BLM protests.

"After all Biden's done with no promise of Israeli divestment from Harris, I simply can't bring myself to make that vote" And I understand that. The issue is that there just isn't a good choice available for that front, especially if you believe that Kamala and Walz can't be bullied. So you have to make the decision based on every other front. And whether it be the economy, rights for immigrants, rights for LGBTQ people, rights for women, foreign policy, or plenty of other issues, the orange man's platform is LEAGUES worse.

So I ask you, if you are able to, vote. It might suck, but at this point in time, it's something we can do.

[bi-writes]

ghost is off limits. not just emotionally or romantically, but physically. you have seen the aftermath of when someone so much as bumps into him or brushes past his arm in a tight hallway. they learn very quickly that lieutenant riley isn't to be touched, not even a little, not at all. (18+)

ohhhh but not for the medic. your touch is clinical. necessary. ordered. ghost glares, but he does not tell you to go away when you make your way into captain price's office. it's late; they just touched down not even ten minutes ago, exhausted and burdened by an op that took a few weeks of their absence.

he smells like sweat, like grime, and you can taste the sand in the air when you take a seat next to him. even seated, he is taller than you. he takes up a ridiculous amount of space, dwarfing the office chair he sits in. you set your kit down on your captain's desk, turning to face your lieutenant.

"uhm...could you show it to me?"

he huffs in annoyance before he pulls his tactical vest over his head, tossing it onto the floor. you swallow, blinking, focusing, as he unzips the jacket he wears and lets it fall at his feet. your lips part a little as he reveals the strength of his arms, tight muscles straining against the shirt he wears and showing off the sleeve of ugly military tattoos that are sunburnt along one arm.

gorgeous, giant man, but then your eyes take interest on the nasty gash along one arm, a jagged wound that stretches nearly from shoulder to elbow. it looks angry and irritated, much like the look in his eyes.

when you put your hands on him for the first time, he flinches. not because he is in pain, but the feeling of skin against skin is so foreign, like a wound of its own. you blink up at him, soft and sweet, and you show him your hands, what you're doing with them.

"just going to clean it out and stitch you up, lieutenant. promise i won't take too long."

but he likes it. the way your soft palm cups his scarred forearm, running a cloth over the lines of blood that trace along the length to his wrist and drip onto the floor. the warm drag of your fingers pushing his skin together so you can hook the needle through and stitch him up solid and effectively. those easy, gentle strokes, threading through skin as you would hem a skirt, a pattern that you have not forgotten that is now being weaved onto his very body.

he'll wear your stitch pattern like a patch he has so dutifully earned. and you will wear his marks just the same, yes she will, the good girl that she is.

when you finish, he grunts, flexing his fist to gauge the tautness of his skin and the way the wound burns as he stretches his arm. he tilts his head to the side, glaring. your hands rest easy there, still pressed up against him, and he nods at you expectantly.

"open y'r mouth, sergeant."

and you do. because he's your lieutenant, and he has given you an order. he hikes his mask up, revealing a disgusting grin and the sharp edge of a torn lip, a face mangled beyond recognition. when he spits in your mouth, he tastes just as you expected--like sand and smoke.

"now swallow."

and you do, but not because he's your lieutenant, it's something else, something more. not afraid, but intrigued, somehow not put off, but needing sustenance.

when he crowds you in the infirmary later that night, you don't understand. you don't understand the sudden need to touch, the way he grips your ass, the nasty way he bites at your jaw and pushes your pants down your thighs and puts his cock between your thighs.

he promises he won't fuck you, promises he'll be nice this time, but it's hard to discern between reality and heaven when he lets the tip catch on your clit with every frantic stroke. you squeak with every rough thrust, pressing your ass against his pelvis as you arch your back, wanting to see his face, wanting to kiss him, wanting to make this tender and soft and a little romantic, but that isn't ghost.

ghost is mean. ghost isn't a giver, he's a taker. ghost is made of sharp edges only, broken glass on all sides, it's such a shame his cock is so nice and so big and so good, lieutenant, please, i need it--

"need more," is what you beg, even though you know he can't give it to you. you know, but he does it anyway, he slips a big hand between your thighs and opens you up, and you cry when he finally sinks deep, hoisting you up, your back tight against his chest as he learns how quiet the voices in his head are when he's so deep in your pretty, pretty pussy.

he slips another hand around your throat, baring it, giving himself room so he can bite at your neck and lick over the salt and brand you with the evidence of the reprieve he refuses to give, but you don't care, all you can do is smile.

you know his secrets now, the things he would never tell, the things he can't say out loud.

it's almost frightening that you don't really care if he has to kill you to keep you quiet.

[deosilplanarglitches]

Reason #345734 why I don't tell my mom shit.

Her pain and suffering is the only kind she cares about, and she'll play stupid games with me like ghost me for 3+ weeks after a minor surgery, just to make sure I'm worried enough about her life to check, so she "has permission" to start in with the talking my ear off about her problems without boundaries or preamble. She won't know shit about my issues til after they're over (if she hears about them at all) bc she never asks a damn thing about my life, and literally only ever leaves room for herself and her feelings in any equation literally ever and then peaces tf out like. Bitch I'm permanently disabled and in a degenerative spiral that's gonna last my whole fkn life, and you're still bitching about yourself? Wanting me to cater to your emotions when you haven't even spared a CRUMB of consideration in return?

FUck all the way off.

Should have known that if she had died or sth bad happened, I'd have heard something right away. After 30+ yrs of her pulling the "yeah my kid tried to kill themself for the 7th time, but have you asked ME how hard it is to raise them doing the nothing I have been, bc I still don't know them as a person at all or even try to? Where's the compassion?!" shit... you'd think I would know better, but my compassion gets me fucked over YET AGAIN.

If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty.

Back to no contact.

Let the bitch suffocate if she can't self soothe.

[aquaticmercy]

In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself. 

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear. 

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—” 

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up. 

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion. 

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you. 

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud. 

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her. 

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish. 

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen. 

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. 

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her. 

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips. 

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life. 

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality. 

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs. 

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently. 

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his. 

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?” 

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have. 

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring. 

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.” 

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm. 

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. 

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.” 

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket. 

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you. 

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now  carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away. 

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly. 

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her.  “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you. 

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

[awrkive]

NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 1 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, (eventual) smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.2k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3 mature language, this chapter's pretty tame (for now) but theres a lot of FLIRTING, if u squint this story is a mosaic of every shows i love lmfao, for the apartment complex just imagine the namil villa from the kdrama fight for my way NB!JK VISUALS

NOTES hello im back!!!!! remember the jk in tech xmas fic i told you about last year? this is it except its not a xmas fic anymore lmfao. had an idea to make it a full blown story and im just sooo excited to share it with u guys on this platform!!!!! if ur from wattpad, the chapter system is gonna be a little different here but the content is not <3 anyway let me know what u guys think!

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO

You never settled your relationship with the summer season. To put it simply, it was a love and hate sort of thing; you liked that it was dry, and the air always felt like it was filtered and healthy even though you were well-aware of the current shit-state of the Earth's ozone layer. There were beams and sunlights and street vendors and people lying on the park's ground. Summer felt nostalgic, like the first time you bought a vinyl in highschool and listened to Fleetwood Mac in secret because your mom was certain they peddled cocaine and all sorts of illegal drugs, and with a highschool friend you no longer talk to, not because of a friendship-breaking betrayal but something more melancholic than that like drifting apart as you got older — the ambience, generally, was what you loved the most about it.

But regardless of those, summer got hot. Sure, you could forgo layers of clothing and it was always nice to lounge about in short bottoms and strapless tops and sandals, but at the end of the day, you needed to set your AC on the lowest temp, and it cranks up your monthly rent a greater percentage which causes a detrimental result to your monthly pay. (And you always had to reapply make-up every now and then whenever you went outside because if not, you'd be a sweating mess.)

In the grand scheme of things, though, there was nothing more than you disliked than Park Jimin, your best friend since college, asking you to be his plus-one on his mom's birthday dinner. For the second time.

“I told you, Jimin, I’m not doing that anymore. Your mom called me fat and recommended a bunch of expensive skin care products to treat one single zit on the side of my forehead the last time you brought me there. I hid that with my bangs and she still saw it, like what the hell? The baked lasagna might have tasted good but I’m not stepping one foot in your house ever again.” You spat out, rolling your eyes at your friend who just dramatically flopped himself on your bed.

“Okay, so I’m really sorry about my mom. She’s a…” He trailed off, looking at you with meaningful eyes that weighed words you knew he couldn't exactly say without feeling bad, and you sighed. Nodded in understanding. Jimin’s face contorted into a cringed expression at that. “... yeah. But! Please. I swear! This is the last time. I just really need you to be there. They’re setting me up with Heesu, okay? You know that snotty nepo baby of the Kang clan who owns Kang Tech?”

“Jimin, you’re a nepo baby.”

He hit you with a pillow. “I am but I can earn a hundred thousand won without my family’s money. They can cut my credit cards and I'll still be thriving.”

You broke the serious demeanor and laughed loudly at his seemingly confident claim.

“I’m sorry but you could not even get a job at a burger joint without some nepotism let alone have a hundred thousand without your dad’s credit cards. Bitch, you’re just lying.”

“Fuck you. I was employee of the week at Seventh Street Burger.” He backfired, referring to that point in time in your sophomore year where you picked up a part time job during the summer at a burger joint and Jimin just decided to come along randomly. He got it because the owner knew of his dad.

“Yeah, because Sowon had a crush on you?” You said, remembering the owner’s daughter, who was also helping out at the store at that time. She was so smitten by Jimin you almost felt bad for her.

“Okay, fair, point taken. No need to be such a bitch about it,” Your best friend said with a dismissive wave of his hand, telling he was over it. You only laughed at that, boisterously, might you add, just to piss him off for no reason. Jimin deadpanned. “But seriously. I think they’re planning to marry me off to Heesu.”

Your face fell out of genuine concern this time.

“Oh my god, really?”

Jimin once again cringed visibly. “Yeah. I mean from a business lense it makes sense. But me marrying at 33? That makes me – like – a child groom.”

“Oh… yeah…” you trailed off, sympathizing with him. Not that you've ever been in the situation where your parents forced you in a sham marriage for their own wealth because there was no wealth to begin with. But you felt bad for Jimin. You always have, when it came to this particular subject.

You knew how it was with rich people, having known Jimin for almost half your life. It was true that arranged marriages were still a thing, and while Jimin seemed that he could pretty much do everything he wanted because of his free-spirited nature, his parents could still most likely make him marry someone he barely knew. Solely for business.

“Ugh.” Jimin groaned. “Should I just come out at the dinner so they can stop linking me to women? I’m gay as fuck, man. My cousin Park Youngdam would have a field day given that homophobic fucktard has been calling me the f word ever since he learned it in seventh grade.”

You shook your head, visibly cringing at his words. You didn't have family yourself. It was your mom who raised you alone for all your life, until she died five years ago. Didn't know any extended family. But frankly, you thought it was better that way than to deal with a complicated family like Jimin's.

“Nah. I mean if you’re ready, well, do it. But like, your parents are…” You two shared a look together again, and Jimin just slapped his palms over his face, indicating his doom. Your face twisted with another shot of deeper sympathy for him.

“This is it for me. They’ll marry me off to Kang Heesu and we’ll fly to the US and live in Massachusetts to fulfill her white picket fence fantasy. I’ll be a miserable husband and she'll be an even more miserable wife because she’ll eventually find out I’m gay. The neighbors will start talking and the white republicans will shun me out of the town church. We’ll have a surrogate baby and—”

“Jimin, what the fuck!” You hit him hard on his arm as you couldn't keep a straight face anymore at his dramatic monologue. “You’re not gonna marry Heesu and you won't live in fuckass Massachusetts and no one’s gonna shun you out of the town church and you won't have a surrogate baby.”

“It’s a possibility.” Jimin shrugged.

“I feel like you're guilt-tripping me into agreeing to be your date again at your mom's birthday dinner and I think that's very evil of you.” You said, squinting your eyes at him.

“Well, duh? But also, I’m really kind of lowkey highkey scared they’ll marry me off to someone now that I’m pushing forty.”

"You're quite literally seven years away from forty." You countered.

He looked at you with an expression of I know right! And he told you so.

"That's what I said to mom and dad, but they're acting like my sperm will freeze next year. God, I can't stand them!" 

Jimin, for all his jokes and unserious and bitchy behavior, was someone extremely important to you. Yeah, sure, he was rich as hell and he annoys you when he says something that reeks of too much nepotism but he was never intentionally snotty, never thinks he was better than everyone else (Jokes about how he thinks he has the fattest and juiciest ass in the world, though), and he wasn't at all like the rich people you've had the misfortune of interacting with at his mom's birthday party last year. He might be a self-proclaimed bitch but if you put him together with those people, he might as well be one of God's disciples.

For all his crass language and rather strong personality, Jimin was a doting friend who was there for you every single time. You could call him up at 3 am and he’d be at your door bringing Chinese take out and two tubs of ice cream, ready to hear you vent about your stupid job or a guy that you fumbled by being weird and off-putting because you didn't know how to handle a relationship. He was the kind of friend who would defend you in front of anyone else but will mercilessly tell you off and list down all points of your stupidity once you were in closed doors. He was the kind of friend that would ask you to be his pretend partner at a birthday dinner party, but he was your best friend ultimately and even if you had a big problem with his family and their extremely traditional (read: toxic) ways, you didn't want him to be pressured into coming out just so he could avoid to be engaged off to another random heiress. Didn't want him to do something he wasn't ready for. Didn't want him hurt or anything of the sort.

The last dinner wasn't even that bad, if you were to be honest. His parents were shitty, yeah sure, and the other guys in there that consisted of politicians and businessmen and people in the showbiz industry were something taken out of the toilet bowl for how stinky their elitist, better-than-you personalities were, but you both just totally forgot all about it by getting wasted at the local bar right after leaving. Not that his mom’s words didn't sting a bit or didn't make you a little conscious, but at the end of the day, you weren't actually dating Jimin so you didn't care what his parents thought of you.

Additionally, you didn't have something planned for the next two weeks when the birthday would be happening. You were supposed to, but that ship has long sailed when you fumbled a date with the guy at the IT department. For the record, you didn't really like him that much and he talked too much about his job and while you didn't mind that, it was getting a little too tiring. If you wanted IT lessons you would’ve majored in it in college. Still, Shin Taemu was handsome. And he wore those rounded glasses. Was tall. Had nice arms. Too bad he wanted to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Fuck that guy.

“Ugh, I don't know,” you groaned. “It's just so disgusting to be your girlfriend, okay?”

Jimin audibly gasped. “How dare you? A lot would jump on this ass.” He said with incredulity seeping through his voice, pointing to his bum.

You rolled your eyes. “Not me, obviously. Before you take offense—”

“Offense taken.”

“—it’s just that you're like my cousin and when you call me honey I want to crawl out of my own skin.”

Jimin laughed at that while you looked miserable, remembering those moments from last year. Seriously, how could you have fooled anyone in that party that you were banging? You swore you looked like Ariana Grande and Troye Sivan in that one music video? (Jimin was the one who showed that meme to you, by the way.)

“So I won't call you honey. Just babe.”

“Ew.” You quickly retaliated.

“Ohh, the homophobia is sho-wing.” Jimin sing-sang, ever the mature individual he was.

“Fuck off, seriously.”

Jimin just giggled and then scooted closer to you. “No but like, are you coming? ‘Cause jokes aside, I'm just gonna find someone else if you really don't wanna do it. But you know you're always my first choice.”

“First choice when you do some stupid shit.” you countered, rolling your eyes for the nth time that night. Jimin would be the cause of your eye surgery if ever they got dislocated or something.

“That’s my biggest act of love.”

“I don't want it.”

“I’ll double what I paid you last year.”

“Double it again and give it to the next person?”

Jimin flipped you off. “I’ll give you my nintendo and I’ll get you a card at that coffee shop you love so much.”

That caught your attention. You raised your brow. “On god?”

“When did I ever lie to you?”

You deadpanned. “We won't finish this conversation if I list all the times—”

“Okay, okay, point taken. But I'm really serious. Please, please, please, please be my pretend girlfriend on my mom's birthday party please, please—”

“Shut up. Ugh,” you could already feel the big smile creeping up Jimin’s face when you let out a big sigh. “Okay, I’ll do it. Buy me boba now.”

Jimin tackled you to the bed and hugged you and kissed your forehead.

“Thank you! Best best friend ever.” he delightfully said, grinning widely, eyes almost disappearing in his triumph.

Your face contorted into a disgusted expression while Jimin just laughed as you pushed him so hard he almost fell off the bed.

“You are a disgusting limpy sack of dicks! Also, I’m not your best best friend, you don't have a wide selection. I'm your best friend. Period.”

“Unfortunately.” He waved you off and when you were about to retort something his phone suddenly rang. You watched quietly as he put it over his ear. “Hey, you just landed?”

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

“Nah, you want me to pick you up?” Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. “Sure, I’m free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?” He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. “Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?”

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, “Well, my cousin’s apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on.”

“Is that one of the non-problematic twenty percent cousin lineage of your very complicated family tree?" You asked, referring to him telling you one time that his family, including the extended ones, was eighty percent shitty and twenty percent decent.

Jimin chuckled at the inside joke. "Well, yeah, he's one of the good ones. Knows I'm gay."

"Oh, nice."

Jimin stood up from your bed. “I’ll get you your boba and head off. Gotta pick cousin up or he’ll start throwing tantrums at the airport.”

“Add extra pearls please.” You told him, watching as he clicked away on his phone to get you your drink.

“I spoil you too much.” Jimin said, clicking his tongue, eyes still on his phone.

“What are you here for if not my glorified sugar daddy?”

“I will kill myself in front of you.” Jimin deadpanned, getting a chuckle out of you.

You didn't know the psychology — or if there even was psychology — behind feeling embarrassed when you were about to cross a path while carrying huge boxes. It was a normal task, and yet, it always felt like a huge walk of shame when you did it.

It was probably because you had to carry it over a flight of stairs, and there was no way you wouldn't trip on yourself carrying two heavy boxes in your hands that were already disrupting your vision.

Maybe it was your fault for choosing the pick-up option when you were checking out these furniture online, all because there was a huge increase on the fee for door-to-door delivery. For the record, there was a huge gap and the boxes were not really that heavy to the point you could not carry them both. It's just a lamp and a portable desk, you thought a week ago when you opted for the pick-up option, I could carry it all the way to the unit just fine — and obviously, your delusion has resulted to this very moment.

As soon as you managed to walk over five steps, you felt as if your oxygen supply just got cut back, panting like someone fresh from a marathon. Damn. You definitely needed to work out a little. Maybe do some squats for your New Year’s resolution, commit to it for three days straight then forget about it for the next 362 days of the year.

You looked ahead of you and a string of curses let themselves out of your mouth automatically as you estimated the number of stairs you needed to get through to get to your apartment.

This day sucked! It was Sunday and you planned to wake up at five am to have a productive day but then you slept through your five alarms and woke up at eleven am instead. You ran out of eggs and you had to go to the convenience store to eat a sad meal of yogurt and kimbap. And now there were these boxes that you needed to carry over what seemed to look like six million of stairs. You weren't Sisyphus! And where were your goddamn neighbors when you needed them?

"You need help, ma'am?"

"Jesus Christ—" you turned to look to your right only to see a man who seemed to own the previous voice.

And Jesus Christ, indeed.

He was wearing a white shirt and some shorts, Nike sliders on his feet and a pair of headphones on. He was wearing glasses. And he had a tattoo sleeve.

What the fuck.

What the fuck!

It has been so long since you thought a man was crazily attractive. Okay, well sure, the guys from the IT department were something else (or you just had a weird eyeglasses fetish, Jimin once pointed out, that you still — to this day — vehemently try to deny) but you’ve never been this taken aback by someone’s face before.

The guy’s lips tilted a bit, some sort of greeting maybe, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed, fearing that he caught you looking at him longer than necessary.

Oh god. This was pathetic! He was a stranger! He was a man! He just had a cute face attached to a very good body with an arm full of tattoos and he was tall but you were sure he wasn’t six feet two. Also, he had hair that looked fluffy from where you stood and a pair of eyeglasses but Jimin was just bluffing when he said you had a fetish for them. Right?

You were performing mental gymnastics until you realized he was asking a question.

"Oh! Uh, no, thank you. It's fine." You said, embarrassed at the way you almost jumped in surprise earlier.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. What, because there was a very fine man across from you the universe suddenly decided to fuck up your fate by making you be seen by that very man struggling with boxes all the way up to your unit? Couldn't it just have been on a day when you did your make-up and dressed up in that overpriced dress you bought hundred bad choices ago?

You fumbled with the boxes a little bit before continuing your way up, nevermind the guy whose response you didn't wait for because you needed to get the fuck away from him before you say something weird and off-putting.

Truthfully, you could use the help. But at what cost? A fine man carrying them? Okay, that wasn’t so bad. But what were you supposed to do with... all of that?

As if the universe was indeed trying to prove to you that you were, in fact, not its favorite creation, you almost tripped. And the guy most definitely saw it.

Fuck.

You turned to the side to see him looking at you, concern etching his face. You wanted to convince yourself that it was genuine concern because you'd commit something that would totally change the trajectory of his life if he was to laugh.

But you thought his own unit must be way up as well, as he was going to the same path as you, and if that was the case, he must have been a new neighbor in the complex because you've never seen the man before.

“Well, it’s not that heavy but…” you trailed off, looking blankly at the cardboard boxes. And then at him. "I could use some help, if you don't mind."

The guy just chuckled. Oh wow, his laugh was very... low.

You didn’t even know what the fuck that meant.

“I’ll get them for you.” He said, crossing the small distance between you and taking over the pile, leaving you with nothing in your hands.

“Oh, no, I’ll have that one. It’s fine.” You said, stepping closer to take the other one but he was already securing it in his hold, with stability this time, ready to take off.

He let out a small laugh again and you bit your tongue to not think about how cute he looked. If he was a new tenant, you hoped you didn't cross paths with him ever again.

"It's okay, ma'am."

He's got to stop calling you that before you do something drastic.

“It’s quite far from here, I'm all the way up to three-three-six.” You uttered, pointing forward, a few steps behind the guy, who hummed at what you said.

You quickly caught up to him. "Really, thanks for doing this."

"No problem, it's nothing." He said, smiling at you. Warm and kind. All cute. "I'm all the way up to four-four-six as well."

Your eyes widened. "No way, that's just across mine."

The stranger, apparently your neighbor now, grinned.

"Nice coincidence, huh?"

A sheepish smile formed on your lips. You didn't dwell on that comment too much. Knew it was just small talk.

"If you don't mind me asking, are you a new tenant here?” You asked out of genuine curiosity. You had never seen someone come out of the unit across from you out of all the four years you'd been here.

He nodded, agreeing with what you presumed.

"Yeah. Just temporary, though.”

“Oh…” A surprised sound. Maybe it was a good thing he was only staying temporarily... “I hope I didn’t inconvenience you or anything. You really don’t need to bring the boxes over to my apartment.”

The man just chuckled, dismissing your worry. “You looked like you could use a hand, these boxes are big. Anyway, I was just out checking 'round town. Settling in.”

From the sound of it, you'd assume he was not only moving in in a new apartment complex, but new city as well. Perhaps country? But he most definitely looked Korean. But maybe he came from abroad. Who knows.

“Yeah, there's a really nice coffee shop three blocks away. You should check it out sometime. Ji—my friend and I are obsessed with their iced caramel macchiato. And the boba.”

His brows furrowed in pure interest. “That must've been the one I passed by this morning. I’ll make sure to try that one.”

“You really should. And the barista gives you a brownie on Sundays if he likes you.” You shared like it was gossip, mentally taking note to visit the cafe sometime this week.

“And I'm sure not everybody gets the privilege?” The guy looked at you funny, and that made you laugh.

"Of course, yes! You have to earn it, I think. I feel like I spent over a million there before he started giving me brownies."

"Hope my charm works on him as well," he said, and it caught you off guard.

What did he mean, "as well"? Like he was speaking from the basis that you had charm and so he hoped he had it as well to get the barista to like him?

"Well. He's strict." Was all you could say, before you spotted your apartment. "Hey, I'll take it over from here."

The guy looked over the plated number on the door, reading three-three-six just as you said earlier. Trudging forward, he set the boxes down on the side of the porch.

"Thank you, really. This was really nice of you."

You extended your gratitude once again as if you didn't spend the walk up to here thanking him non-stop, sounding like a broken record. Thank god the guy didn't seem to mind your over-the-top gratitude, only waving his hand.

"Told you, it's fine. You need help with a few boxes again and just ring me up across," He joked, turning around slightly and looking at the door across your unit, Unit 446. It earned a chuckle from you. His face turned serious now, but there was still a charming smile on his face. “Hey. I’m actually pretty new in this town. I was thinking about visiting a few restaurants downtown, maybe you could recommend me some?”

You didn't mean to, but you took note the way his doe eyes seemed to shimmer even behind the frame of his glasses.

“My favorites are just, like, a ten-minute walk away. There’s this restobar near that drugstore when you turn left from this building, right?” The guy nodded, and you were slightly delighted he knew right away. “Yeah, their ramen's great, you'd thank me forever.”

He chuckled at the way you said it and you smiled.

Your interactions with new people were always a range from pure silence to oversharing; talking to them like they were your long lost friend whom you’ve milked goats with in your father’s orchard. It was probably just a product of introversion; not knowing the right approach to socializing.

“Thanks for the recommendation.” He said, a genuine appreciative tone lacing his words.

“You’re welcome. If I can ring you up to help me with some boxes, you can ring me up for some restaurant recommendation.”

"It's an exchange, then. Deal."

"Why not?" You shrugged, laughing along with him when he did so.

You both stood there for a while until seconds passed. You didn’t know exactly how to end the conversation, not that you wanted to, but there was nothing that went to your head to talk about more. And besides, he was probably headed somewhere, so you began to speak.

“Hey, so I’m going in—”

“What about we—”

“Oh.” You stopped. “Sorry, what was that?”

The guy just shook his head. “Nah, you’re probably busy. Thanks for the recommendation again.”

“No, seriously, sorry I didn't hear it the first time...”

“I was just gonna ask about the name of the restaurant.”

“It’s Midday Miso.” You told him, smiling.

“Midday Miso,” The guy nodded, “Yeah. Got it. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, and, uh, thanks. For the help.”

You took your keys out from your shorts and you didn’t expect to still see him standing in front of you when you turned around. You jokingly squinted your eyes at him.

“Yeah, you first, get in.” He said with a low chuckle.

It was a little embarrassing and pretty stupid how your heart fluttered a bit at that.

“What a gentleman you are,” You respond with a snort, opening the door to your unit and pushing the boxes inside your apartment. When they were in, you turned to look at the guy again, saying, “Okay, bye for real. See you around. Hope you like Midday Miso if you try it. And the coffee shop. It's called Brown Coffee.”

“See you around.” He did a little wave that made you both laugh before you closed the door.

When the lock system clicked, you stood on your doorway for a little while.

And then fake-cried.

You quickly clicked on Jimin's pinned contact on your phone.

You [5:35pm]: JIMINNNNNNNNN You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY You [5:35pm]: POP EMERGENCY BITCH IF U DONT RESPOND You [5:36pm]: I HAVE A DIABOLICAL CRUSH AND ITS GOING IN THE MEMOIRRRRRR

It wasn’t even one full minute when Jimin replied.

cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: oh my god SHUT UP!!! im at a training program for ghis stupid ass company my fathers been running fir 600 years cuntress #1 [5:37pm]: whats up cuntress #1 [5:38pm]: its always a crush and never a job 😒

You [5:39pm]: yeh so remember when i told u im oacking up my vagina last summer

cuntress #1 [5:39pm]: many such times

You [5:40pm]: 🖕 You [5:40pm]: SO raincheck!!! You [5:41pm]: COZ I just met a fine man at my apartment AND flirted with him You [5:41pm]: i think

cuntress #1 [5:42pm]: ohhhhh OK???? cuntress #1 [5:43pm]: cuntress #2 flirting???? now thats not uninteresting go on while i fake a restroom break 👀

You [5:45pm]: this story is not for the imessages baby get ur ass up and ICE CREAM WITH ME NOW.

cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: omg 😭😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:46pm]: i’ll be off 7:30pm wait for me 😭😭😭 cuntress #1 [5:47pm]: i also have #stories to tell

You [5:49pm]: 🤭

There must be a time where you finally grow up and learn to cook.

You were a twenty-eight-year-old woman and yet, your meals sadly ranged from instant noodles, canned goods, and food from the nearby twenty-four-hour provision shop. Sometimes, you had the gall to cook something from scratch—but with scratch you meant scratching off the labels from food take-outs and reheating them in your microwave.

Jimin had told you one time you would die at twenty-nine with your lifestyle. You told him he couldn't tell you shit because he didn't know how to cook either, he just worked out and ate healthy stuff, and you did, too! But Jimin knew you, and in an evil manner, clocked you with, "Buying fresh produce and not consuming them does not count as healthy living."

Anyway, you never understood why you were so bad at cooking. Your mother, as you remembered her, was decent at it but you guessed it was because she never really taught you and you never really bothered, either. In some immature way of thinking, you'd like to think it was a win for feminism as you were battling patriarchal standards by not conforming to stereotypical "female" qualities. But deep inside, you knew cooking should be a survival skill.

Well, maybe Jimin was right and you would indeed die at the ripe age of twenty-nine. On the bright side, at least you wouldn't have to pay off your student loans and your monthly rent.

In relation, not knowing how to cook meant impractical visits to the restaurant, and that was how you ended up at Midday Miso for dinner after your shift.

It was only a little over seven pm when you entered the restaurant, the ahjumma quickly greeting you and preparing your usual, a sign of familiarity that implied your countless visits ever since moving in at your current apartment building.

Regular visits meant usual sitting spot, and in your case, it was the high stools that faced the glass walls of the restaurant's facade where you could see the busy street making that little area of the town alive.

As minutes overlapped with one another, your food was served and you were hit with the waft of the restaurant's delightful signature beef ramen and bibimbap that the ahjumma made sure to add extra beef on.

Eating with a happy heart made you feel like nothing in the world mattered but you and the food before you, so, you didn't pay attention to the person who was coming to your direction and eventually sat beside you, but what caught you off guard was when said person suddenly said,

"Hi."

When you turned to the side to see who it was, your eyes widened as you said in both recognition and surprise, "Unit 446?"

"That's me." He, Unit 446—in the flesh—said with a low chuckle, twisting himself so that he was sat appropriately on the high stool. Still, his body leaned towards you when he continued to say, "Fancy seeing you here."

You grinned, flattered at the casualness of his approach.

"Same to you. I wonder who told you about this local gem."

He pursed his lips. "A nice neighbor across my place... whom I still don't know the name of."

"Oh, shoot!" You'd face-palm right now if he wasn't looking, but truthfully, you didn't even think about that! You've just been referring to him as the Staircase Guy slash Neighbor 446 in your head and when you told Jimin about him. You laughed at the thought. "That neighbor of yours is __."

Neighbor 446 nodded and extended his hand to you

"I'm Jungkook."

It was a little silly but you shook hands, anyway, and knowing it was, indeed, silly, you both laughed together at your joint connection.

Jungkook. Huh. Not exactly a common Korean name, but it wasn't rare either. The name does ring a bell though, felt like you've heard it somewhere before.

You brushed off the familiarity as inconsequential.

Unlike the completely casual attire he adorned the first time that you met him, he was now in some sleek slacks and a white polo which sleeves were ridden up half high, which exposed the vines of ink on his right arm once again. There's a coat that hung around the back of his chair, and he had forgone the glasses this time around, which was a bit of a shame on the part of your brain that might have a silly crush on him.

Jungkook's clothes seemed to mirror your own business casual ensemble, and that made you think about what he possibly did for a living. Maybe he worked a corporate job just like you, and the prospect might have made you down a little—only because as far as you were concerned, corporate people weren't the most pleasant people you could encounter—but it was not something you dwelled on too much because you couldn't care less. If Jungkook was corporate, he sure didn't seem to be one the way he was.

Besides, you wouldn't be the one to bring up the depressing and aggravating conversation about gross grown-up things like... jobs... Eurgh. You both could just talk about the weather or how insane the ahjumma's ramen tasted for eternity.

"Well, hello, Jungkook." You greeted him. All warm and soft, testing the syllables of his name on your tongue. Rolled off well enough. He had a nice name that sure fit his face for some reason.

"Hi, __." He mirrored the soft smile on your lips, and just as he said it, the ahjumma was heading towards your direction to give him his order.

In that usual way grandmas reacted, the ahjumma gasped audibly—and dramatically, might you add—upon seeing Jungkook, but what she said next made you want to dig a hole under your seat.

"__-dear! Is this young man your boyfriend?"

Good thing you weren't consuming anything as of that moment, because it would've entered the wrong track.

"Ahjumma!" You laughed, totally not authentic at all because your face didn't match it, looking at Jungkook who just sent a shy smile her way.

Ahjumma must have seen you both talking to each other and had completely jumped to a conclusion. An insane one at that! 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "This is Jungkook. A friend. He's new in town and checking out all the stuff around here. I recommended him this place."

You saw Jungkook nodding along with your words while he helped her set his table.

The ahjumma just shook her head. "I apologize, then," She looked at Jungkook and as if gossiping with him, whispered in a not very subtle way, "I keep on telling this girl to date already! Such young beauty shouldn't be wasted, you know."

A tsk-ing sound made its way through her mouth, and as much as you were starting to feel embarrassed that she was telling on you on Jungkook—who was literally a stranger to you a day ago and whom you may have a teeny tiny bit of crush on—you knew ahjumma did not have any malicious intent and just chose to laugh the whole thing off.

You heard Jungkook do the same.

This was ridiculous.

"Ahjumma, I told you, you're gonna be the first one to know when I date. For now I'm just a part-time accountant and a full-time promoter of Midday Miso." You pout at her, trying to dodge the topic of romance altogether.

Not in front of Jungkook.

"Ayee," She gave you a side-eye. "Fine. I'll bring over some extra beef."

You mouthed an enthusiastic "yes!" and raised your fist in the air with excitement, and Jungkook looked at the interaction with a smile on his face.

As the ahjumma walked away, you looked over at him.

"I'm glad you came by—" You identified his order to be the same one you used to be obsessed with the first few months you came to the restaurant. "—and ordered their best seller. You sure know how to be a tourist."

"Looked good on the menu. The ahjumma also seems to be nice. Seems like she's a close friend, huh?" Jungkook said.

"Totally."

And it was the truth. There was just something about ahjumma that made you feel reminiscent about the grandmother you've never had. Ever since you moved in and became a regular at this place, it felt like she's taken care of you and your relationship had been special since.

"This is really good." Jungkook commented after having his second bite, and you nodded in agreement. "She was serious about the beef thing?"

You chuckled at the mention. "Yeah, she always gives me extra."

"You just always get free stuff around these areas?" Jungkook joked which earned a hearty laugh from you. You remembered telling him about the free brownie on Sundays at Brown Coffee, a little bit surprised he recalled that.

"Now that you said that, I actually do." You proudly shared. You've been in this town for so long that the various faces just went from familiar to friends.

Jungkook nodded, his face showing amusement.

"I have to learn your ways, then."

"The secret to that is be incompetent at cooking. It means it's either take-out or eat out. Business owners around here have no choice but to see me every three days because I can't cook my own meal."

You could see Jungkook's amusement growing every second, and to add faux insult to injury, he joked, "Oh, bummer."

You decided to ride along with that.

"You mean you're a good cook? That's the real bummer! And here I thought we were bonding." You said, purposefully trying to sound scandalous at his implication of being a good cook.

He shook his head instantly, chuckling. "Okay, nah. I'm not that good. Just decent. But I'll have you know I can make a mean tangsuyuk. Any other complicated stuff is out the window, so there, we are bonding."

"I appreciate that you're under the assumption that I know where to begin with the non-complicated stuff. You're already putting way too much faith in me."

"I seriously doubt that." Jungkook laughed once again.

"You know what my friend tells me? That I'd die at twenty-nine because I don't know how to cook."

Jungkook almost keeled over hearing you say the words, and as much as you were amused at his own amusement, you decided to further add on the joke because you were enjoying this way too much.

"Wow. I wouldn't doubt you'd be an accessory to my murder the way you're laughing way too hard at my impending death. That's next year, you know."

Jungkook reached over for the glass of water and drank it. While he did so, the ahjumma had come over to give you the beef she promised. You did not forgot to thank her as soon as she went away. 

You did hope Jungkook didn't notice the malicious wink she sent your way.

"Fuck, sorry." Jungkook's laughter had gone down this time, but his eyes still showed a hint of mirth when he asked, "You're twenty-eight, then?"

You nodded. "Yep." Unfortunately, you thought.

"Oh, that's actually surprising."

A gasp left your mouth. Jungkook was quick to correct himself.

"I meant it's surprising because I thought you were way younger."

Oh.

"Don't flatter me. I won't share my extra beef with you."

"I thought—" He shrugged. "—Early twenties."

"I'm guessing you are in your early twenties." You joked back.

"Okay, now, don't flatter me. I know how old I look." Jungkook said with a dismissive tone, but nevertheless light-hearted. Just like how this whole thing was going.

God, you were so in awe of how good he was at talking to you that he was practically bringing out the extrovert in you you only ever show to exclusive people like Jimin.

"So, you're like, fifty, then?"

Incredulous, Jungkook burst into laughter. "Wow."

"Sorry, just that you sounded like you were five years from retirement! Anyway, you look like we're the same age?"

He shook his head. "Three years older. Turning thirty-one later this year."

Jaw dropped. Not physically, but mentally.

"Oh wow, you're basically—" a fucking DILF! What the hell!

Thankfully you managed to cut yourself off before Jungkook could think you were way off your rocks and embarrass yourself in front of him for eternity. You could just hear Jimin from miles away telling you off about calling thirty-year-old men DILFs even though you didn't know if they had a child.

What do you mean this guy was thirty and why did that just make him even hotter in your head... He's got to stop this madness before you do something completely incomprehensible.

"—A senior." Was the lame thing you came up with to finish your sentence.

"Ouch." Jungkook said, but his word was completely opposite to the expression he was wearing on his face the way he just couldn't suppress the grin that had been visible on his mouth since you started talking.

You brought your hands up.

"Totally didn't mean that in a negative way."

Which was the entire truth. So far, the things you knew about him was that he had tattoos, a nice body, a nice personality, good ass freaking conversationalist, and that he was thirty! Thirty! As in, the peak of male hotness. The evil psychological concept of most men only getting hotter as they age.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Jungkok nodded. "By the way, are you heading out after this?"

"Oh, yeah. Don't have anywhere else to go. I have a nine A.M tomorrow so..." you shrugged, and he nodded in understanding.

"You work as an accountant, right, from what you told the ahjumma?" Jungkook asked you curiously.

"Yeah... it's a very tedious job." You grimaced a little bit. "What about you?"

He tilted his head a bit, picking up a dumpling on his plate. "I'm a software engineer."

"Oh, that's cool."

You nodded to yourself while you processed what he said.

Works in fucking tech; another thing you just learned about him. 

You weren't actively seeking out guys in tech, but why did they seem to come to you voluntarily? God forbid you saw someone who wasn't in there! Was every man working in tech now? Was Jimin really only being truthful when he said they were exactly your type?

"Have you made any software or is that, like, a wrong assumption about you guys?"

Jungkook merely chuckled at your retort.

"Not entirely, no. I've designed a few software in college—I'm still doing it. I'm just currently doing more business stuff now." He gave you a sheepish smile. "You?"

"Well, it's just... you know—I actually work at a tech company. I'm a junior accountant. And, uh, nothing interesting, really. You get to do cool math like programming, and I get to do boring math like calculating money I don't have. It's always a great day at work." You said, couldn't help the laugh that skipped your mouth at your own sarcasm.

Nothing like joking about hating your job to someone who you just met yesterday.

"Programming and coding are not all that, either. It's tedious and... it's just a really boring job. But... it all pays the bills."

You chuckled.

"Yeah. Totally."

Without minding it, you raised the small glass of soju, initiating a toast, one that Jungkook understood immediately and met you in the middle of it.

The night was still you when you walked out of Midday Miso, but unlike any other nights, it was with Jungkook this time walking beside you.

"So you just—what—hid him for three months?"

"Well, yes! I wasn't about to get a notice for that! And besides, he was really cute. But he's in good hands now, his owner still sends me pictures of him. He's very grown and big."

"That's insane."

You peered at Jungkook who watched you in awe as you told him about the story of Alfredo, the cat whom you rescued on your way home from work a year ago. The landlady obviously had her fair share of rules and regulations in her building, and keeping pets was an absolute no, which was a shame. Definitely wasn't a shame when you first just moved in the complex, but things got lonely sometimes when you were living alone and company was almost a luxury.

Anyway, as told, you managed to keep Alfredo out of the landlady's sight until you found a highly qualified parent on some online forum who you still kept in contact with to this day.

But as you watched Jungkook, you noticed the way his expression fell into something concerning. He looked worried, which made you feel the same way as a result.

"What are you thinking?" You asked him curiously.

"Oh, nah, I was just... thinking. See, I actually have a dog."

"Oh!" You looked at him wide-eyed.

He has a dog; another thing about Jungkook that would qualify him on the regular rounds of hot boy of the month on Twitter dot com. 

"Yeah."

"You didn't read the terms and conditions of the building?" Your eyebrows formed a concerned expression.

Jungkook chuckled and shook his head. "I did. I just—suddenly thought about him, is all. He's being taken care of some place. But, you know, I missed him, and I was thinking about getting him here and showing him around my new place and all that."

"Oh... that's a bummer, then. The landlady's strict, even with the small dogs, can you imagine? Is he small, by the way, your dog?

"He's a Doberman, so definitely a big one."

"He must be really cute. What's his name?"

"Bam." He smiled at you, and you could totally see the pride showing on his face at the mention of his dog. And with a tone that you could only identify as someone who's suppressing his enthusiasm a little bit, he added, "You wanna see a picture of him?"

"Sure!"

Jungkook took out his phone from his pocket and showed you images of a big, chocolate brown dog. Bam definitely wasn't like the other regular Dobermans you'd see around. His ears weren't cropped, and his tail wasn't docked either. You didn't know if the lack of surgery was intentional from his side, but you'd like to think he kept it that way because he knew it hurt the dog greatly. From how you've been knowing him, you were certain he just didn't want to put his dog under unnecessary pain, which was honestly heartwarming to think about.

Jungkook was becoming way too good to be true in you head little by little.

"Awe, he's adorable!" You cooed, especially when he swiped through the picture of his pet, Bam, as a pup in what seemed to be Jungkook's arms based on the familiar tattoos that peeked from the exposed arm as seen on the picture. The tattoos also seemed to be new at that time as well, considering that the skin was still yet to be fully covered like now.

"I'm flattered you think that."

"Where is he, by the way? If you don't mind me asking."

"He's at a... friend's place in New York. He's not very good at flying so I didn't bring him with me here, and I thought, I'll only be here for three months, anyway, so." Jungkook shrugged.

Three months. Well. He did say he was only staying here temporarily.

You nodded. "For business, right?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You grew up there?" You kicked the stone that was caught at the tip of your shoe, putting your fists in the deeper part of your coat's pockets. Summer may be hot during daytime, but it sure as hell was cold on nights like these.

"Nah, I'm from Busan. Flew to California for college and have been there since. Until now, that is."

Jimin was also from Busan, you thought. Though he said they only lived there for a few years until his parents moved to Seoul, but he made sure to visit his hometown every now and then. Most of the time, he made you come with him which you never had complaints about. You lived in the city all your life so going there, especially in the more urbanized area where you and Jimin stayed. Felt like fresh air—which Busan had, quite literally.

"My best friend's from Busan too."

"Really? What about you?"

You chuckled before answering, "I, unfortunately, did not come from any interesting place. Born and raised in Seoul, through and through. Though my mom told me she lived in Daegu for many years prior to having me."

"Seoul is an interesting place, though."

"Eh. It's okay." You shrugged, and your nonchalance made you both laugh.

The walk to your apartment building from Midday Miso was not that far. Still, it was five blocks away and while you and Jungkook were currently sharing conversation together and seemingly walking the same path, you weren't sure if you were both walking together there.

As if he read your mind, he suddenly spoke after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You mind if we walk together to the building?"

You decided to joke to get the jittery feeling out of your system.

"Scared of the dark, Jungkook?"

"Sure... my five-eleven self is."

You squinted your eyes at him. He did not just go there!

"Is that a slight against my height because I'm five-seven, mind you."

Jungkook stopped in his tracks which made you do the same, and you watched as he put his hand on his waist while the other reach up to his face to place a finger over his chin, seemingly assessing you up and down. You looked at him incredulously.

"You're bumping your height to two inches." He seriously said.

You gasped audibly.

"Oh, shut up,"

You rolled your eyes and turned your back at him, continuing your walk as you heard him behind you bursting in laughter at your reaction.

"I'm kidding!"

You first met Jimin at a college party. He was five years older than you, supposedly out of college by the time you attended, but he always had a problem with rebellion–what with his ragged relationship with his parents, he would intentionally flunk his courses as a message to them that he'd always be a black sheep and a proud one at that, hoping it would be enough to convey that they could not force him to be the heir of their company. (Obviously, it had taken him nowhere, given that he was now currently attending a training program to work at said company).

But maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he was set back to five years for graduation. Because you got to know him, and he got to know you.

On the outside, you might look like the total opposite of each other–because Jimin was the definition of extroversion who wasn't afraid to put himself out there–while you, admittedly, were more reserved and usually shied away from any public attention.

As much as you were welcoming to a lot of people, you didn't have a lot of close friends growing up–at least not the kind of friends you'd see on TV shows–but when Jimin came to your life, you clicked so instantly you could not even figure out where you two exactly began.

The instant way you two clicked, you realized, was like your relationship with Jungkook nowadays.

Ever since that night at Midday Miso, you've been seeing a lot of each other. Granted that it was only in the same place, same time. You'd usually arrive past seven and he, a few minutes later. Jungkook, cladded in his slacks and long-sleeved polo, was becoming a usual sight after a shift, and your business casual clothes was turning as one for him as well.

Your usual seating spot became his as nights passed, and ahjumma, thank God, no longer asked you if he was your boyfriend. You were glad that she was slowly getting acquainted with him though, greeting him with a friendlier smile and tone reserved only for customers like you when he entered the restaurant, and Jungkook seemed to welcome the newfound friendship wholeheartedly.

On the consecutive nights you'd spent with him, it was almost as if you lived quite the same life. Though, you didn't know when he went to work. In fact, you didn't see him during the mornings even though in theory, it could be easy, granted that you both lived across each other. But strangely enough, you'd never caught him retiring to his flat to go to the bus station. You assumed he started earlier than you or way later.

You never asked, it never came up either.

Still, there was some sort of tranquility in the thought that you could spend some time with someone after your shift and just talk about whatever–and whatever meant a lot of things. Random at best. You once told him about the first raccoon you met in your life, and he told you all about the lioness he got to watch when he went to a South Saharan trip a few years ago.

Sometimes, the conversation went around what happened in the office that day. Jungkook noticed the little blot of ink on the cuff of your baby blue long sleeves, and you told him about the jammed printer in the accounting department. He'd told you later on about how he almost fucked up a report, said he was nervous because he was taking on a new role in the office.

Those moments were shared in long walks from Midday Miso to your apartment building, because naturally, you both established a small tradition of walking home together after a night of eating your hearts out at ahjumma's restaurant.

It was a rather sweet gesture, if you were honest to yourself. But you chose not to linger too much on the romantic thoughts that floated in your head, especially when you'd notice the way he made sure to walk on the outer side of the sidewalk, and when your fingers got too close the tips almost touched.

Because Jungkook, for how objectively good looking he was, was more than just his pretty face and physique.

He was kind and funny and genuine unlike any other straight men you've met in your life. Maybe the bar was low, but for all the times you've gotten to talk to him, he never showed any signs of ego most men would by the second hour of your meeting.

In the dating scene as an adult, a lot of men would come up to a date talking about how high they were placed at their company's hierarchy and how much they made in a month, and when they hear about yours, they'd always have a backhanded comment about how "you could only go up from there, right?" and those moments were always a bummer. Yawn-inducing, to be more accurate. Men and their predictability was boring and it was the reason why you'd declare to Jimin almost every time you got home from a date that you were retired from looking for them because most men just plainly fucking sucked.

But with Jungkook... was it different.

You found he didn't talk a lot, and one time you asked him if you were doing it–the talking–way too much, but he just chuckled and told you that he didn't mind.

Later on, you learned that he was just more of a listener rather than a talker, and that was not only a pure assumption of yours because he did listen attentively, alright. As for all the random things you've told him about, you never expected him to recall a single thing, not until one time when you passed by a food truck.

"Hey, didn't you say you like sundae?" Jungkook asked, and when you followed where his eyes were, it was at the food truck parked just a few steps ahead from where you both were.

"I do... wow. It's been so long since I saw a food truck around here." You said, following his steps towards the vehicle.

They had tables to dine in, and even if you were still full from eating at Midday Miso that night, the sundae was just too gratifying to decline. Jungkook was the same with the tteokbokki on his small plate, telling you he missed eating at one of these things, as they didn't exactly have anything like this abroad.

After he paid for the food (and of course not without a long, silly, light-hearted argument about it), he came back with two sticks of Melona ice pops which you looked at with widened eyes, animated expression written all over your face especially when he thrusted the purple yam flavor to you.

"Oh my god, how do they have these?"

"I was surprised as well... this is the first time in a while I'm eating this again." Jungkook said and then gestured to the ice pop in your hand, "You like the purple yam, right?"

"Yeah!"

You were about to ask him how he knew, but then you briefly remembered that one time you had a passionate rant about people hating on purple yam ice cream and why they weren't right.

And as you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to remember it all too well.

Jungkook showed genuine interest in the things you'd tell him about. He'd visit the cafes and restaurants you recommended to him as much as he could, and because you've come to exchange numbers with him eventually after almost two weeks of casually hanging out, they sometimes came during lunch break.

1 message received from Jungkook (Unit 446)

That day, you only exchanged contacts the other night, so seeing him on your phone so quickly like that caught you by surprise. It was welcomed though.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: I went to Cafe Heaven for lunch and loved their ice americano

As soon as you read the first message, another one came.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:36pm]: This is Jungkook by the way :)

You laughed at his introduction. As if he didn't see you type his name on your phone last night–like he didn't jokingly complain about you putting the (Unit 446) in there but giving in eventually and also adding (Unit 336) to yours in his own contacts.

You [12:38pm]: Hi Jungkook! You [12:38pm]: im glad u went!!! u should also try their fettuccine alfredo

Seconds later, he sent a picture of the dish you just mentioned which put a smile on your face.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:39pm]: i'll get my refund from you if this doesnt taste good

You [12:40pm]: 1 week of friendship and ur already ripping me off 🤐

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: 😁 Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:40pm]: first bite Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:41pm]: second bite

What was he on, you didn't know. But you were glad that he was slowly coming around, his jokes getting more... how would you say it... less polite? He just stopped apologizing after he said them! He usually would in the first few days, but now in your newfound closeness, it was like you were out of that stage where you tiptoed around each other still, feeling the other one out, trying to figure them out, all that stuff.

Nowadays, it was just more natural. Smooth-sailing. Paradoxical, almost, because of how the relationship felt more defined as well as loose.

You found you liked it that way. 

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:42pm]: I like it 👍🏻

And to your surprise, he sent you a picture of him, indeed, holding a thumbs up.

You'd like to think you were an expert on going along with the tide because even though you would be classified as introvert by most, you did pretty well in forming relationships with people–granted, most of them were fleeting, at best, hence the lack of bigger circles in most of your life–but you were great with making friends, regardless. 

And maybe it was how you ended up with this whole thing with Jungkook. Because you were friendly and open, although you wouldn't dare to take all credits because as you mentioned before, he was a great conversationalist.

He didn't talk much as you said, but he didn't ever make you feel like you were talking way too much because he made sure that you knew he was listening, and when he talked, it was always engaging; conversations with him transitioned to different subjects in perfect seugue you would never noticed how you jumped from Melona ice pops to the existential dread you fought every morning before going to work.   

When it came to humor, Jungkook's was different from Jimin's, of course, and your dynamic with your best friend could never be replicated with somebody else but Jungkook was close to truly becoming your friend, and for that, it was getting easier to ignore his handsome face.

You may have had an embarrassing moment of panicking mentally at seeing such a man in the first meeting, but nowadays, you could hold a conversation with him without thinking how hot he was.

Dare you say, you were starting to think more platonically about him rather than romantically. As you said, you were an expert on going along with the tide.

Or maybe that was too soon a declaration, because there were moments, like now, when you were certain juvenile flirting insisted on happening between you, steering you clear from completely feeling wholly platonic about Jungkook.

"I certainly have a bigger hand than you."

As if you didn't know that, Jungkook brought his hand up to show you it. Confused but not totally minding the whole thing, you proceeded to extend your own hand towards his, pressing them both together. Predictably, his hand could have engulfed the entirety of your own.

Jungkook laughed at the sight, and you didn't know exactly who broke the physical contact first but you were glad it was over as soon as it started.

But you couldn't have forgotten the electric zap along your spine when your hand got so close like that to his. Couldn't have ignored the hot feeling in your cheeks when you were made aware of what you just did.

Wow.

Were you guys flirting? Was he flirting? It was flirting, right? Juvenile, at best, because this was what kids did in high school! And Jungkook's hand was so...

You never imagined what it felt like–never even crossed your mind until now. Expectations about how his hand felt never formed in your head because you sure as hell never thought about that kind of thing happening in the first place, but Jungkook's hand was the right balance of soft and hard. Calloused in a way most men's hands naturally were, and soft like enough comfort when held and touched.

It wasn't clammy, thank god, but you also wouldn't have thought he had clammy hands, solely because he just looked like he didn't. But god, was it big.

And my goodness, did it make you feel things.

You drank your water fast and cleared your throat, subtly, so that he didn't think too much of it.

"O-okay, but that's just genetics. Doesn't mean you could throw stronger punches."

You said in retaliation to one of your useless debates which now covered the coin-operated boxing arcade machine across the bus station nearby.

Jungkook leaned back against the monobloc chair that was definitely way too flimsy for him.

You were currently hanging out at the dining area of the food truck you came across a few days ago, forgoing Midday Miso for the night. Lately, Jungkook and you have been exploring a few more places other than there. You've tried other restaurants nearby, but ultimately, Midday Miso was still the top favorite and the food truck was becoming a staple in lieu of its convenience and just the overall vibe of eating outside and feeling the breeze of summer night air.

"You got me curious about the boxing machine." Jungkook said, crossing his arms.

"I held the highest score there for like a week, you know? Only did it though to impress the kids who liked to watch."

At that, Jungkook's face lit up in interest.

"We should do that sometime."

"Oh... I see, I see. You wanna impress the kids, too?" You playfully accused, squinting your eyes at him.

He chuckled and waved you off.

"It can be a challenge." Jungkook shrugged and looked at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes.

You let out a puff of breath, amused at his obvious antics.

"What's the catch?"

"Well... free boba delivered to your door for a week if you get the higher score. How's that sound?" He looked at you expectantly.

You chuckled before saying, "I'm gonna rip you off so bad, Jungkook."

"Only if you win, though." He said with a mischievous smirk. 

"Oh, wow. When, you mean. When I win. So what's in it for you?" You leaned your elbow on the table and studied his face.

He looked at you for a while, then, the smirk from earlier was wiped off and exchanged with a much gentler smile.

"Home-cooked dinner at my place next week Friday."

Your eyebrows met.

"You want me to cook you something? Jungkook, do you have a death wish? I may either give you unintentional food poisoning or burn your house down, there's no in between."

"No," Jungkook laughed at your insane conclusion. "Sorry, I should've specified. I mean if you lose, I'll be cooking us a meal at my place."

"Oh."

You were left staring at him, a bit dumbfounded.

He just said he wanted to cook you guys a meal. At his place.

He was inviting you to his place. His personal space.

"It won't be better than Midday Miso but I think I can keep up." Jungkook added with a sheepish smile and scratched the back of his head in that seemingly boyish manner.

"Sure..." you responded, a bit delayed, much to your effort of not showing your big surprise at his offer. Before he noticed the way you were not believing what you heard, you chose to quip in a (hopefully) cheeky, "That is if you win, though."

Jungkook only hummed and then nodded.

"If I win."

He said, smiling at you.

This was dangerous.

The whole thing was teetering to something that was not very platonic, and just as you were starting to think this whole thing was!

Jimin always told you that you were bad at flirting, but in your defense, how were you supposed to know, exactly, if someone was flirting with you? A lot of people were friendly like that! Jungkook was maybe like that? Had you shown interest and he noticed so now he was playing into it? But that would be uncharacteristic of him. You didn't think he'd be the type to do something cruel like that...

But the tide was always rising and falling, they said, and the good thing was; you knew how to go along with the current.

So you did what you do best.

"Would you like to donate to the poor?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's a chance this card's gonna decline because I am the poor."

The cashier looked you in the eye with an even more impassive look than the one she had before you got your turn on the counter.

"Could've just said no." She said, punching your order away and you had to shamefully swipe your card and leave to go over where Jimin was.

"The cashier just snubbed me for being poor." You complained to Jimin, moving your coat to the next seat and settling in in yours.

Jimin took a sip from his latte and looked at you dead in the eye and said, "I'll call the manager if you want."

"Fuck off." You retaliated immediately. Jimin snorted at your way too predictable response.

See, this has happened way too many times more than what your fingers could count. You could not even pinpoint the exact time when Jimin started to joke about going full-on Karen-mode when you complained about a single little thing at the places you went to.

Anyway, you were currently on a lunch break when Jimin texted to see if you were free. What better way to spend your lunch than with your best friend? The company's canteen food was getting tired and they hiked up their prices. Your office's kitchen also ran out of Solhee's – your coworker – biscuits and so you thought you had to make do of Jimin's money for that day. You told him your motives yourself and as a petty retort, he told you to pay for your own pasta — at a café that was way too expensive for its own good.

You stole a bite off his churros, and predictably, he rolled his eyes at you.

"Why'd you want to see me, by the way? What's up? You don't have training?" you glanced at your wristwatch, reading 12:40pm.

Soon, you were casually taking over his plate of churros. For how ridiculously priced it was, it sure tasted good as hell.

"I got the day off." Jimin shrugged.

You eyed him suspiciously almost immediately.

"Did you really...?"

It was a few seconds before Jimin gave in and took back his plate.

"Okay, no, I ditched the training today but for the record it's for a very important reason."

You put your hand over your chest and contorted your face in an awed, touched expression.

"The important reason being... meeting me?"

"Ew, no," Was Jimin's quick, disgusted, response – which earned a laugh from you as usual.

From your peripheral vision, you saw the waiter heading towards your direction and so you waited for him to come over and serve you your pasta and frappe. After thanking him, you huddled closer to your best friend and asked, "Okay, what is it then?"

Jimi pursed his lips, making your eyebrows meet.

"It's kinda... bummer news."

"You're pregnant?"

"No, you'd be way too happy and I can't be a single dad," He shook his head as if not even wanting to imagine that.

"Namjoon looks like he's gonna take care of it with you." You sing-sang, sipping on your coffee and winking at him indiscreetly – emphasis on indiscreetly because you never knew how to wink properly.

What you did not expect, was the look on Jimin's face when you mentioned Namjoon.

"Well..." He trailed off, and you waited for it curiously; anticipating his impending answer in return because your conversation was always quick-witted like that. But right now, Jimin's expression was devoid of any jokes. 

Not something you expected when you just mentioned his boyfriend.

"I— did something happen?" You quickly dropped the teasing tone and exchanged it with a concerned one, eyes looking at him with worry.

Jimin closed his eyes for a while and let out a deep breath. "See, that's the bummer news."

"Do you want to tell me? Or we can just—"

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. But he did it with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes – and this was Jimin. His eyes did not not reach his eyes when he smiled!

"He's going to Italy."

"Oh."

When the pause prolonged for over a minute, with you looking at him mouth agape, Jimin let out a heavy sigh once again and shook his head.

"I know. It's work... and I always understood that. He travels a lot and we're both okay with it. But it was usually just around the country, not another continent. I mean, what did he mean Italy? And that's not even the worst part. He knew a month ago he was going but he only told me two days ago and he's leaving Thursday," Jimin looked at you to take a pause, seemingly trying to look for a reaction.

You thought, that's tomorrow.

As if he read your mind, he nodded, sounding almost defeated.

"I know."

"Oh, Jimin..." You said, not exactly knowing what to say.

Jimin and Namjoon had been together for over a year. At least, officially, because they spent the last three years just casually hooking up on and off. You liked them together and had been more than glad when they finally put a label to it – exactly why you knew Namjoon enough to not badmouth him when you usually would men Jimin usually dated. You knew perfectly well that Namjoon genuinely cared about your best friend and he loved him. So if Jimin was at a loss for this obvious mistake on his boyfriend's part, even more so you were.

"He's been blowing up my phone ever since." Jimin added, glancing at his phone on the table. "Intentionally didn't charge my phone today so I don't receive his calls and texts."

That prompted you to remember the message you received from Namjoon last night.

"Oh, that's why he texted me yesterday. He asked about you, and I told you through text but you didn't answer." Things were starting to make sense now, and as you observed Jimin's face, they were getting clearer. "You never talked since?"

Jimin pursed his lips. He took his coffee back to his mouth and sipped while looking away. "Nope."

"Jimin." You tilted your head.

He looked at you again, and you knew exactly that he was thinking the same thing as you: It was within his right to feel off about what Namjoon did, but regardless; Jimin was being a little petty, and he needed to communicate with his boyfriend instead of giving him the cold shoulder.

There was a pout that formed on Jimin's lips right after.

"I know. I just..."

"He could've told you sooner?" He nodded at your words. You mirrored that. "He should have. Italy is not Busan – it's not just a train ride away."

Jimin sighed, looking exasperated now. "I told him that exactly. I'm not even mad he's going to Italy, I just think I deserve to know right after he was told about it."

You nodded. "You should really talk. It sounds like he wants to apologize, anyway, given that he's now trying to talk to me to get through you."

"Sorry you got caught up in this. I'm gonna talk to him about it."

"Eh, it's fine. Joon and I are also friends, you know?" You shrugged, genuinely not minding Namjoon coming to you. 

You liked Namjoon and thought that he was the perfect match for Jimin. They were cute together and just seemed to... take the best out of each other. You'd go to any lengths to keep them together, as long as Jimin wanted Namjoon and as his boyfriend. You've seen Jimin go from relationships to relationships, some just fleeting and simple dalliances, and most destructive and were just... not good for him. You've never seen your best friend truly happy and committed in a romantic relationship other than with Namjoon, and as someone who cared about him, you'd do a lot of things to make him happy.

"Here's another thing, his flight is tomorrow at 11:30pm in the evening. Mom's birthday dinner is at 10." Jimin usually had his composure everytime, and it was very rarely you'd see him show any worry because he liked everybody to think he was in control of every situation. You smiled. Classic Jimin. He'd only ever show his true nature to you though, and that was exactly why he looked at you with worried eyes and continued to say, "I really wanna be there to send him off."

The call time for his mother's party was at 10 and naturally people would start swarming in way past that time. If Jimin were to sneak out way too early, you knew his mother was not going to be happy about it and his father would give him an even bigger shit for it. Sure, he could cancel, but what would he say? That their supposed cishet son is sending off his boyfriend at the airport for the night? He couldn't reason work either because he didn't exactly have one.

After having his wrongful DUI accusation last spring– which was actually already settled, on the grounds that it was definitely not DUI and the owner of the other car just overreacted to a fender bender, the media was adamant on tactically using that to taint his family's image and it unfortunately succeeded – hence, why Jimin had been laying low these past few months; going to training programs, obeying his parents more than usual, doing what they wanted...

You sighed. Your best friend deserved so much better.

"Don't worry, I'll find a way to get us to leave early." You told him after awhile.

Jimin arched his brow, intrigued.

Waving him off, you said, "I can fake something."

As if hearing some magic words, Jimin suddenly perked up.

"No way you're using the diarrhea card?"

Giving him a dirty look, you shook your head. "Nah, not during a dinner party. It's gotta be something new and less... gross."

"Oh, oh!" Jimin put a finger over his lip. "What about a sprained ankle? Can you pull that off?"

You deadpanned. "Okay, you ought to pay me more if you want me to do that."

"I can, but I won't. Stop ripping me off, I'm your best friend."

"Jimin, I'll save you from your family. I'm great at this." You said jokingly, but you hoped that he knew you weren't just jesting and were serious about it.

With the appreciation masking your best friend's face, though, you knew he got the message right away, but as you looked at him longer, you realize that he was about to say something and you quickly pulled back, shaking your head.

Jimin quickly reacted. "No! You know what, I'm gonna say it—"

"Don't say it." You quickly cut him off, giggling while you shake your cup of coffee.

"You can't keep me from saying I lo—"

"Jimin, I will tell everybody in this place you watch dubbed anime, I'm serious."

He gasped, quite dramatically.

"You did not just go there!" Then, he lowered his voice a bit, arching his brow at you, vindicative when he said, "You wore skinny jeans a month ago."

"How dare you, you wore a fuckass poncho last week. I saw on your IG story."

"That was from Namjoon and he also gave you one, FYI."

You grimaced. "Tell him I love him but I'm not wearing a poncho, Jimin."

"I was gonna tell you I love you and that you're the best person ever but now I have to rethink all of that." He rolled his eyes, and when the banter ended with you having the last words, you laughed at his face.

"God, you're just never beating me at this."

"Please, we both know you write your mediocre insults on your diary every night trying to one-up me, __. But let's talk about something else."

"I'm not even gonna acknowledge the diary thing but, sure, shoot." You said, starting to eat your pasta.

Jimin looked at your food full of judgement and grimaced. "Is that shrimp? Your doctor is growing grey pubes as we speak," He commented, and you knew he was referring to your shrimp allergy so you shushed him.

"This is vegan shrimp. It's tofu."

He just shook his head, disagreement written on his face. But he let it pass, anyway.

"Anyway, how's Mr. 446?"

The pasta suddenly entered the wrong track.

"Girl," Jimin was quick to offer you the glass of water on his side and you were just as fast to drink it. "You okay?"

"I'm sure there are existing cases of people dying because food got on the wrong track while they're eating, but yeah, sure, I'm okay." When you finished the water, you looked at Jimin who was just doing the same thing.

Crossing his arms, he eyed you expectantly. "Well?"

"I mean... what do you want me to say?" you told him, and you could've sworn you did not want to show anything on your face but you were certain there was a huge smile on it and for some reason, you couldn't help it.

Jimin's jaw dropped, expressions of disbelief and amusement when he asked you curiously, "What do you mean by that?"

"Okay, look, Jimin—" You scratched the back of your head, feeling a little sheepish to tell him all about Jungkook. "He told me we'd get dinner at his place this Friday if he wins this... thing."

His mouth was agape by then and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You... slut."

You would absolutely be rolling off the floor if you weren't at a public place the moment he mouthed the word, but still, you couldn't help but retort back.

"Shut up, you can't be the only one whoring around in this friendship." Jimin snorted at that and you both had to stifle your laughter when you noticed a woman from across the room eyeing you both.

This was one of the reasons why Jimin and you didn't belong in public places other than bars or clubs – because you were way too rowdy together for civilization.

"So you're saying you're whoring around?" He eyed you suspiciously.

"Wrong information. It's actually kind of platonic."

Jimin quickly waved you off. "Babe, if a guy invites you to his place, nothing is ever platonic about it. What do you think you'll do together there? Stare at each other for two hours straight?"

God, you hated and loved that he enables your delusions.

"Okay, you're being insane about this. It's just dinner," Trying to fight off the not-so-very-platonic things that suddenly played in your head after hearing his previous remark. To show that you didn't care, you added for good measure, "—And anyway, we had some sort of deal about it so it's not definite."

Your best friend just shrugged. "I'm all for it. But you're sure he isn't a serial killer, right?"

"Jimin, god, no," you chuckled at that. "I mean, I don't really know for sure, but we're friends now and as far as I know, he's never shown signs of psychopathy."

Jimin and you hadn't hung out in a while, so you haven't really told him all about Jungkook yet and the things you got to know about him. He didn't even know his name. As far as he was concerned, Jungkook was still Mr. 446, and you were fine keeping it that way. He had a lot on his plate right now, anyway.

"Just being cautious." He sing-sang, putting both his hands in the air.

You shook your head.

"Anyway, we also need to talk about what we're gonna wear tomorrow," Jimin suddenly said. "You got the Pinterest board I sent you, right? For the inspo."

Grinning, you grabbed your iPad from your bag and got to the link immediately. Your phone died on the way to the café. Good thing you had another device and brought it with you.

"I also added a few things in here. Gold and black's the theme, right?" You clarified, scrolling through the board you and Jimin both contributed to. Your best friend took it upon himself to transfer seats so he could be beside you and look at your screen at the same time.

"You're gonna look so good in Schiaparelli, babe," Jimin said while checking out the pictures you added.

"It's just an inspo, I don't actually need to wear a Schiaparelli." You chuckled.

"Who do you think your best friend is?"

You both laughed at that but it stopped when a notification popped up on your computer. Recognizing the address as your work email, you were quick to hover over it. When you were about to open it to see the full message, your iPad suddenly died.

"Shoot." You looked at Jimin with a straight face. "I forgot to plug it in. Didn't notice the battery."

Jimin grimaced. "Didn't bring any power cable."

"We'll have to do with a phone. Mine died."

You were just about to ask him for his but then you remembered what he said about avoiding Namjoon, hence, his phone was of no use either. 

"We're gonna have to freestyle."

Last year, Mrs. Park's party was held at a theater hall – your first time at one, by the way.

Tonight, it was at their mansion.

You've only ever been to the Park's a total of one time, which was now. Stepping a foot inside here for the first time in your life, the house felt unreal. It was the epitome of money and wealth and everything regal in the world – like a palace of some sort. They had butlers and guards at the gates so maybe that wasn't an exaggeration, but damn, Jimin truly came from money.

Regardless of how shiny the whole building was in both literal and figurative senses though, there was an emptiness to it. It didn't look lived in – which was a fair assumption for a house this big. It definitely did not look like people liked staying here, and maybe that was not a stretch, because as soon as he turned 18, Jimin moved away and lived in his own place ever since. You asked him on your way here and he told you it was his first time this year to visit his own house.

The decoration was sick, though. Granted, they must have surely hired people to do it but at least they'd hired excellent ones. You wouldn't have expected anything less from Jimin's mom.

Jimin and you arrived at 10pm sharp, and thankfully, people were already starting to fill the place up. It was now past 15 minutes to 10pm since you arrived and there really was nothing different that went on from last year; you saw some familiar faces, politicians, and celebrities. Jimin introduced you to some people as his girlfriend, and you got to have quick chats with his model friends.

You knew it didn't actually matter if you thought about it carefully, but there was truly nothing compared to the feeling you get when you see someone in the flesh that you only see on TV all your life. You didn't feel lucky to see them in person, per se, you were just poured over the realization that these people were actually real and they weren't just some sort of simulation to keep the entertainment industry of your country afloat.

Although, you did meet Han Sol – an actress whose works you genuinely admired. Jimin just told you her husband was his second cousin.

It wasn't later that Jimin and you were invited to his family's table, where some of his cousins and immediate family were.

The greetings went pretty normal. Normal as in: Jimin's mom didn't say anything about your weight first thing first. Granted, she didn't try to hide the look of disappointment on her face when she saw you with his son. Probably reeling at the fact that you were still "dating" each other even after a year — she was probably under the impression that it wasn't serious between you two last year. His father, meanwhile, was... quiet. As usual. A man who obviously didn't really say much except ask Jimin about the training program and his siblings' jobs.

Mr. Park didn't really talk to you, just like last year. Like you were almost invisible to him – and you were glad that was the case. He probably didn't like to acknowledge your supposed relationship in the first place. Probably knew that you were working a middle-class job and didn't want to know any further. But at least, he wasn't saying anything. That was nice.

"Where's your cousin?" Asked Jimin's mom suddenly, looking at his son.

"He said he got caught up in traffic. Sent 20 minutes ago." Jimin shrugged. You would ask him about which cousin they were referring to but they had like millions of it at these events so you didn't bother.

Mrs. Park shook her head disapprovingly. "That kid. Always late to the family dinners. Did Junghyun ever teach—"

"Hey,"

Your attention was then focused to the man who just arrived. Black tie, tall... dashing. Jimin was a good-looking individual and his family, as evil as they may be as per his words, were blessed with good genes. If you were to look at the new man that arrived to the table very carefully, you'd say he almost looked familiar.

"Oh, Junghyun!"

Jimin glanced at you and discreetly mouthed, "Cousin."

"Aunt, happy birthday." He said after laughing at Jimin's mother coos. He looked across the table and continued, "Hi, uncle. Jaeyul, Sunghoon, Jimin." They all greeted him back and you could feel the hairs on your nape starting to stand up when his eyes landed on you once again. "And this is...?"

"Oh, that's Jimin's girlfriend, __." Jaeyul, Jimin's brother said.

"Hi." you greeted him, waving a bit.

"Oh?" Junghyun immediately looked at Jimin, eyes not hiding his shock. When you trained your eyes on Jimin, you felt his fake smile. "That's great, man. I didn't know you had a girlfriend. Hi, miss...?"

"It's __." you filled in.

"Nice to meet you, __." He said with a smile. The more you looked at him, the more you could almost pinpoint who he looked like – but that shouldn't really matter.

Junghyun looked over Jimin's parents once again, "Anyway, sorry I'm a bit late, got caught up in traffic."

Jimin cleared his throat.

"How about you, Junghyun? Got a girlfriend yet?" He asked as soon as Junghyun sat on the opposite side of the long table.

You could see Jimin's mother's curiosity peaking at that.

"Tell us, dear. Last time you were dating Kang Iseul, right? The actress. You're still with her?"

Everybody at the table nodded while you almost choked on the smoked quail you were eating. He was dating Kang Iseul? She was a popular actress who announced a hiatus three years ago. That actress Kang Iseul?

Junghyun chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, aunt, that was my brother, and uh, no, I'm not dating anybody currently."

"Oh well. I just wish your brother stops dating that woman. I never really liked that girl. She acts way too self-righteous! I mean, who cut ties with their billionaire father and live independently just so they can say they're self-made? It's ridiculous." Jimin's mother said in that usual snotty tone of hers, and you could not possibly process all of what was going on.

If it wasn't clear to you a moment ago, it was crystal now. Unfortunately, you were a bit chronically online and were there in real time when one random tweet blew up about Kang Iseul being a nepotism baby. But was this guy's brother really dating her? The most important and concerning thing, though, was that: why was Jimin's mom always so annoying about who her family members date? And this was not even her immediate family, mind you.

"Jina," Jimin's father had a warning tone when he called her but Jimin's mom just shrugged him off with a "tsk!"

"Kids are so ungrateful nowadays, don't you think? Anyway, Junghyun dear, you remember the Kang gala I told you about two months ago?" Jimin's mom looked pointedly at Jimin and you bit your lip.

Of course, here comes her passive aggressive disapproval of you. 

"Kang Heesu and her sister Kang Hani will be there. Heesu is a wonderful woman," she chuckled, looking over at Jimin's direction subtly. You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes. Couldn't she be more obvious about acting as a wingman for Jimin and Heesu? But she continued, just like she always did. "I also heard Kang Hani is going for senior partner at Yoon and Yang, you may be interested. Pretty lady."

Junghyun just awkwardly laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

Jimiin's father suddenly spoke, making everyone look at him.

"Where is that kid?" He said, authority dripping through his voice. Jimin was obviously not close to his father, and who would be? Mr. Park was way too intimidating. You found it funny to think if he ever did anything remotely paternal towards his children.

"We were supposed to go together but he said he had something to finish. He'll be arriving later." Junghyun said, obviously not oblivious to the "kid" Mr. Park was referring to. You were way too uncaring to actually try to figure that out.

"I see." Jimin's father nodded. "How's Jeon and Min, Junghyun? I heard you were just appointed managing partner last week."

Junghyun responded with a "yes" and they started to talk about the law firm – you assumed – and other people they mutually knew related to the business.

You knew Jimin's complicated family tree was composed of all sorts of professionals, but damn, they had lawyers in here too. It was like out of a career day event at grade schools.

"Is it true Gukka's going to be CEO?" Jimin's mother said, joining the conversation.

You were glad they were doing all the talking. Last year, they talked to you like they were interrogating you and that was not nice.

"Well, dad's not giving up the company so soon. Gukka's going for interim CTO first." Junghyun said with a polite smile.

Gukka. That must be the brother of Junghyun, although it sounded more like a nickname than a real name.

"Your brother's a hard worker. He's looking at a CEO position, some are still at training programs." Jimin's father remarked with a pointed tone.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself. You thought it was gonna take awhile for the comparison to start, but it seemed they were determined to beat their record of one hour from last year.

You tried subtly looking at Jimin to see if he was okay or anything, but you felt him squeezing your wrist under the table. His face was devoid of any emotion as he continued with his own food.

Junghyun, meanwhile, was obviously taken aback by the response and also looked over at Jimin. He was quick to recover, though – probably knew that was a jab at his cousin just like every other person in the room. Atmosphere grew tense, and you had to squirm in your seat a little bit.

"Training programs help a lot, though." Junghyun awkwardly laughed. You were starting to feel bad for him as well.

"Well, you're lawyering. Trainings are important. Mine's kinda stupid." Jimin said which made everybody look at him, including you.

"You're learning anything yet, son?" His father pointedly looked at him.

"We'll see."

Jimin's dismissive tone made you feel the eye roll he would've done after saying that.

Look, he rebelled for the most part of his life so him being passive-aggressive towards his family was not a new thing, but to witness it was both nerve-wracking and honestly... funny. His parents were such assholes so they probably deserved his attitude.

Mrs. Park smiled a fake one before looking at you.

"Well, what about you __ dear? You're a... what was that again? How is that going for you?"

Because you wanted to piss them off, you mirrored her fake smile and said, "I got fired six months ago at my accounting job."

"Pft—" you pinched Jimin's arm at his reaction.

Of course he'd laugh at that. You asked him how you could piss his parents off tonight just to get back at them from last year and he told you to pretend to be unemployed or you work a minimum wage job because that was their biggest ick. Jimin didn't know you were going to come through.

"Oh."

The look on Jimin's mom's face looked as if she heard the most scandalous thing ever, and if his father's frown was deep even before the dinner started, his face was now below the ground. It felt satisfying to get those looks on their faces. Good! They were such assholes. Imagine getting devastated at someone being unemployed? Okay – for the record, being unemployed was devastating but these people weren't sympathizing with that, they found it humiliating in an elitist way– criminal almost. 

You nodded, your lips almost getting tired from stretching them too far.

"Yeah. Anyway, I started working at a local burger joint. You should visit us sometime."

"I'm vegan." Jimin's mom said, her face now drained with the fake joy she's worn all night.

"We have vegan options." you quipped. Jimin once again made a sound beside you, hiding his laughter.

"Wait, really? They offer vegan options at a street burger joint?" Sunghoon, the youngest of the Park brothers, asked.

You almost laughed at the genuine curiosity in his voice. He was still in high school and from what Jimin told you, he was a nice kid. He wasn't very close to any of his brothers, though.

"Nah, it's the only one in town." You bullshit one more time, drinking the wine beside you. "Sorry, can I excuse myself for a minute?"

They nodded and you stood up, heading to the bathroom, brisking once you got out of their sight to get there more quickly.

It was now 10:30 pm – meaning, you had to do something to get Jimin out of here now if he wanted to be on time at the airport to send off Namjoon.

Once you got inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. 

This whole thing was sucking the shit out of your soul, but you needed to get through it.

It took you awhile to finish your pep talk in the bathroom.

If only you could've have locked yourself in there to avoid socializing with anybody, you willingly would. But you were running out of time and unfortunately, you had something to do and that was to fake some illness to get both Jimin and you out of here.

When you got out to approach the family's table one more time, you suddenly stopped in your tracks.

The table was at least fifteen meters away from where you stood, but you could clearly see the side in which Jimin's cousin, Junghyun, sat, facing your direction. He wasn't the issue – no, far from it. It was the guy beside him who wore the same set of black tie as him; the face attached to the body who wore it though, was someone you did not expect to see.

Why the fuck was Jungkook, Unit 446, here?!

From where you were, you could see him engaging with Junghyun and Jimin's parents. You couldn't hear them, of course, but it was clear that they were acquainted – close – even from afar.

Why did he look so comfortable with the Parks? Why was he at the family table laughing and conversing with everybody, including Jimin? Why did he seem like he went to many of these, like this was just another Thursday for him?

There was a waiter who walked past you and you were grateful for it because had it not been the case, people would start to get weirded out about you standing on the same place longer than necessary, looking stoned. That was also an opportunity to run away from the situation without Jungkook possibly seeing and recognizing you.

"I'll take this," You told the waiter and grabbed the glass of champagne and quickly turned on your heels, heading to the opposite side of the family table where the Parks, and apparently, Jungkook were.

You found yourself heading to the bathroom again, your feet seemingly developing a mind of its own as it led you there unconsciously. You knew you'd be in trouble if they found out about you putting the champagne glass in the sink, but you needed to get inside the toilet and think over everything that was happening tonight.

What the fuck. What the fuck!  Again, why the hell was Jungkook here?

As far as you knew, he was just a regular man that happened to be living across from you. He was just supposed to be some guy you were regularly hanging out with nowadays. Your friend. Your crush – whatever! What he wasn't supposed to be is be here at your best friend's mother's birthday party and hanging out with his family!

Your phone dinged, a message notification from Jimin welcoming you.

cuntress #1 [10:32pm]: girl what happened I saw u going back to the bathroom?

You didn't know why it was suddenly too hot, but you felt the balls of sweat starting to form on the side of your forehead.

You [10:33pm]: im going with the diarrhea excuse

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: tbh idc atp I just wanna go to joon 😔

"Shit!"

Right! Joon. Namjoon. Jimin needed to go to Nmajoon as soon as possible.

cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: also another cousin has arrived u rmr jeon jungkook he's junghyun's brother cuntress #1 [10:33pm]: love this guy but moms starting to compare me to him and I need out right NEOW im justt aking hits after hits jesusssssss

You could just feel the blood draining from your face as soon as you read Jungkook's name in the text.

Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook. Gukka. Kook-a.

That was why the Junghyun guy looked familiar. Because he had the same coloring of Jeon Jungkook. Because they were goddamn siblings.

You started to replay some memories in your head, trying to figure out if you've ever heard Jungkook talk about his family in one of your conversations. But as far as you remembered, he never did. All you knew about him was that he was from the States, and he only got here because of work and he had a dog and as far as you were concerned, his cousin was definitely not Park fucking Jimin, your best friend.

Pacing around the confined space of the toilet, you tried to wrack your brain if you've ever mentioned Jimin to him and in the event that you did, why he never told you that he was his cousin – but you came up blank. Blank because you never told him about your best friend's name... and in turn, Jimin didn't know what Mr. 446's name was, either. They were both genuinely oblivious about the whole thing and couldn't have made you a fool in the situation.

In short, you were the one who was stupid as hell for not connecting the dots sooner.

"Hey, you just landed?"

If it was a private conversation Jimin would've left the room but since he didn't, you decided to stay in bed, kind of listening in to the conversation, but also not, as you turned the volume down of the show you were watching earlier on your laptop.

"Nah, you want me to pick you up?" Jimin sat up on the edge of the bed and you looked at him curiously. "Sure, I'm free, Kook. You have a place to stay? Hotel suite or something?" He nodded to whatever the other person was saying on the other line. "Oh, you're here for three months? Thought you were just flying in for mom's birthday?"

It was moments after they said goodbye that Jimin turned to you to ask, "Well, my cousin's apparently staying here for three months. Got this job thing going on."

"Fuck me." You hissed, remembering that time when Jimin told you about his cousin staying here for three months because of work.

cuntress #1 [10:35pm]: its either ur taking a guinness world record breaker piss there or u really do have diarrhea now and ur shitting cuntress #1 [10:36pm]: anyway get this, jungkook's gonna be interim cto at your company did u know that??????????????????

You almost dropped your phone upon reading the last message.

What the hell did he mean by that?

Heart beating fast as if it wanted to break out of your own ribcage, you closed your eyes and read Jimin's message once again. There was no way he would be shitting you about any of this. He knew where you worked at and you knew your current company was his uncle's, and now that you knew Jungkook was his cousin...

Shit. Was this what they were talking about at the table earlier? About Junghyun saying his brother was gonna be interim CTO? Did he mean Jeon Jungkook all along? Your freaking neighbor?

Suddenly, you remembered the email you received that afternoon that you never bothered to check again because you simply forgot about it. Who even actually checks their work email? Literally no one. You spend your weeks facing your computer while email flew in like porn ads on a shady website, you weren't about to willingly go to the app and check it on your leisure time.

But maybe you should have.

Fingers involuntarily shaking in their wake as you switched to your work email on your phone, you clicked on the recent unread message that was on top from the HR department.

Subject: Invitation to Ceremony: Announcement of Interim CTO Dear Blue Nexus Inc. employee, We hope this email finds you well. We would like to inform you that a ceremony has been scheduled on July 29, 2028, 10:00 am at the AVR Hall 5, 12th floor. The purpose of this meeting is to announce the appointment of our interim Chief Technology Officer (CTO), Mr. Jeon Jungkook. As you may be aware, our previous CTO, Mr. Shin Juman, is currently on medical leave recovering from a stroke. While he is recuperating and undergoing treatment, it has become necessary for us to appoint an interim CTO  for an indefinite period of time to ensure the continuity and effectiveness of our operations. Your presence at this ceremony is highly valued as we introduce the new leadership to the team and outline our strategic direction moving forward. Light refreshments will be served. Thank you for your attention to this matter. We look forward to seeing you at the ceremony. Best regards, HR Department

You knew that feeling when you were just taking hits and hits? This was it.

So not only was Jeon Jungkook Jimin's cousin, he was also gonna be the interim CTO of the company you were currently working at. He was technically going to be your boss, and you would be both working in the same place all the while living across each other where he would see you taking out your trash every Sunday morning in your worn-out highschool PE shirt and pants. He was going to be your boss working at the company you complained to him about on the nights you walked together to your shared apartment complex.

You flirted with Jungkook. You flirted with the guy who was the son of the owner of your whole company building – and not only that, he was your best friend's cousin, to add salt to injury.

You [10:38pm]: jimin we need to get out of here

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ive been saying

You [10:38pm]: but i cant go out there again. Just tell them i had a problem in the bathroom??

cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: ok on it  cuntress #1 [10:38pm]: im kind of convinced u shitted in there tho????????

You rolled your eyes, but at the same time found an opportunity in that. Jimin can't know the truth.

You [10:39pm]: u cant judge me for having a very human experience fuck u the cake i ate earlier was giving cake boss

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: KJAHFKGSIDFHDSHASFHSKJBF

You [10:39pm]: im literally doing this for u and joon

cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: IKNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!thanks to ur stomach problems cuntress #1 [10:39pm]: im going there

You [10:40pm]: make sure they don't see us again to really sell the whole im-embarassed-thing

cuntress #1 [10:40pm]: ON IT! Were going out the back door I don't think they'll notice

You couldn't even find it in you to laugh a little bit at your silly exchange and scheme, because you were way too stressed about what you just found out.

You let out a controlled, heavy breath, leaning your back on the door and shut your eyes aggressively.

"What the hell am I gonna do after this?"

PART TWO | ....

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[thedensworld]

Marry A Rich Man | J. Ww

Genre: suggestive, angst, fwb au!, smut

Summary: every parent wanted their daughter to marry a rich man, Jeon Wonwoo. However, you are a rich man.

gif from @meowonhao (he's so fine i just physically and mentally can't (/□＼*))

No warn, just read and find it by yourself:)

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Jeon Wonwoo from Jeon Enterprise. His reputation as a notorious womanizer and all-around arrogant businessman was well known, and the thought of meeting him didn’t exactly excite you. So when your mother brought up the idea, you could hardly hide your disinterest.

“But it’s time for you to start thinking about marriage, Y/N. Don’t you know your younger sister has already been proposed to by her boyfriend?” she pressed, her tone a mix of encouragement and frustration.

“Good for her,” you mumbled with a shrug, not even bothering to meet her eyes.

“At least pretend you're interested. Wonwoo is quite the catch these days among the socialites,” your mother added with a resigned sigh, as if she was pleading more for her own sake than yours.

You stood up from the dinner table, glancing at your watch with a practiced smile. "I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. There’s a business gathering I need to attend," you said, eager to make your exit.

Your father, who had been mostlydj silent, raised an eyebrow. “A business gathering? Will your friend Wonwoo be there? Say hello to him for me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Father, you too?" you asked, feeling cornered.

He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just say hi. That’s all I’m asking. For me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “Fine. I’ll say hi.” The words came out reluctantly, but a small part of you wondered just what kind of person this infamous Jeon Wonwoo really was.

And here you were, sitting on a plush couch at a party teeming with young businessmen, most of whom had inherited their wealth rather than earned it. You sat alone at a table near where Jeon Wonwoo and his circle of friends lounged, their laughter loud and effortless. You had been invited by Kim Mingyu, the heir to Kim’s Group and the host of tonight’s extravagant affair. Mingyu and Wonwoo had been best friends since high school, along with familiar names like Seokmin and Junhui, who were part of their elite clique.

Jihoon, the doctor and heir to Seoul University Hospital, sat on a couch nearby with a can of Coke in hand, looking out of place among the champagne glasses and whiskey tumblers. “Too many people. My head hurts,” he muttered to you, rubbing his temple.

You chuckled softly. “That’s Mingyu for you. His social connections are endless. I wasn’t even surprised when I saw popular idols mingling here tonight.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement. “He’s a social butterfly. Sometimes I regret being friends with him,” he said with a wry smile, earning a genuine laugh from you. Jihoon had been your classmate in senior high school, and his deadpan humor was something you’d always appreciated.

Just then, Jihoon raised his hand, waving at someone behind you. You turned, and there he was—Jeon Wonwoo, making his way over, leaving Mingyu and the others behind at their table. He looked just as you had expected—sharp and composed, with an air of casual confidence.

“Can’t handle Mingyu?” Jihoon asked with a teasing grin as Wonwoo grabbed a glass of whiskey before settling into the couch across from you.

“Too much energy,” Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but his eyes quickly found yours.

“Nice to see you at a casual event for a change,” he said, his tone smooth, as if he were commenting on something extraordinary. You cursed internally, wishing Mingyu wasn’t your cousin and the reason you had to be here.

Jihoon chuckled. “Right? Y/N must be the hardest-working woman in this room. Always too busy building empires.” He leaned back, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I saw your new building in Singapore last week, by the way. It looked incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow at both of them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, feigning offense, though their words had hit a nerve. Sure, you loved your work, but being painted as some workaholic who never had fun wasn’t exactly flattering.

Wonwoo smirked, swirling his whiskey. “It is. Not many people can pull off what you do. I’d say that’s impressive.”

Jihoon nodded, “Agreed. But don’t work too hard, Y/N. Some of us still need you to show up to these parties once in a while.”

You let out a soft laugh, but deep down, their remarks lingered. You were here, weren’t you? Yet somehow, you still felt worlds apart from them.

Jihoon glanced at his phone before letting out a soft sigh. "I should go. My shift starts in half an hour. It was nice seeing both of you here," he said, standing up and stretching slightly. Before leaving, he made a beeline for Mingyu to bid him goodbye.

As Jihoon walked away, Wonwoo turned to you, noticing your subtle discomfort. "Not a fan of parties?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp, clearly aware of your unease.

You cocked your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Are you?"

Wonwoo shrugged with a mischievous grin. "I wouldn’t say I am, but Mingyu taught me a lot about how to survive them." He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused by his charm. "I see. The student surpasses the master, perhaps?"

He smirked, eyes glinting with playful interest. "Only in certain things," he said, the subtle flirtation unmistakable in his tone. He let the moment linger, his gaze never leaving yours.

You held his stare, calm and unfazed. "Lucky you, then."

Wonwoo chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Why don’t we step outside for a bit?" he suggested, leaning in just enough to make it feel intimate. "I know a nice spot nearby. Somewhere quieter."

Intrigued, you glanced at the bustling party around you and nodded. "Lead the way."

He stood up and offered you his arm, which you took with a composed smile. Wonwoo led you out of the party and into the crisp night air. After walking a few blocks through the city’s lively streets, he guided you to an old, tucked-away bookstore. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, and an elderly man at the counter looked up as you entered, his face lighting up in recognition.

"Wonwoo!" the old man greeted with a smile. "Back again?"

Wonwoo nodded, grinning. "Couldn’t stay away for too long, Mr. Han."

The old man gave you a kind look, then returned to his book, leaving you and Wonwoo to browse. "Didn’t think you'd be the type to bring someone here," Mr. Han commented lightly.

Wonwoo chuckled, glancing at you. "Sometimes you just meet the right person."

You let out a soft laugh, strolling through the rows of worn books. "A bookstore at this hour? Unexpected," you remarked, impressed but keeping your composure.

Wonwoo shrugged, his voice low and smooth. "I thought you'd appreciate something different."

He wasn’t wrong. As you wandered through the cozy aisles, the noise of the outside world faded away, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional shared glance.

As the clock struck midnight, Mr. Han locked up the bookstore and waved his goodbyes, leaving you and Wonwoo sitting on the bench just outside. The city had quieted down, and the soft glow of streetlights cast a warm, intimate ambiance around you. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly as Wonwoo, intrigued by the way you thought, kept throwing different topics your way. Each one seemed to reveal a different layer of you, and he couldn't help but be fascinated.

At one point, the topic turned to wealth and power. You leaned back on the bench, crossing your arms. "When you give a rich man a little power, he thinks he rules the world," you stated, your tone casual but sharp. You had just finished explaining how much you despised the typical behavior of wealthy men—playboys who worked hard only to shower their side chicks with luxury.

Wonwoo paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, with a slight smirk, he responded, "I do feel like I rule the world." His voice was smooth, confident. "But I don’t act the way you think."

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Liar. You’re quite famous for your playboy reputation, Mr. Jeon. You’ve got a habit of having everything—including any woman you want."

Wonwoo was momentarily caught off guard by the nickname, but he quickly composed himself, flashing a teasing smile. "Playboy agenda? That’s news to me."

"But you can’t deny you have everything," you pointed out, tilting your head slightly as you studied him.

He didn’t even hesitate. "You’re right. I do have everything." His tone was laced with confidence, almost as if he was testing you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You narrowed your eyes, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rich men like you think they own the world, when in reality, they don’t."

Wonwoo let out a genuine laugh, leaning in slightly as if to further draw you into the moment. "Alright then, tell me. What don’t I own?" His voice had dropped lower, almost daring you to challenge him.

You shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Me. You don’t own me."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter charged with a subtle tension. Wonwoo's eyes lingered on yours, his smirk softening as he took in your words. "Yet," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of something deeper, something bolder.

*

"You didn’t say my hello to Wonwoo," your father remarked casually as you entered his office the next morning.

You paused mid-step, organizing the files in your hands before glancing over at him. "How do you know?"

Your father sat on the main sofa, picking up one of the files you brought for him to review. "I ran into him yesterday. I asked about you, and he mentioned you didn't pass along my greeting." He looked at you with a knowing smile.

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the file toward him, trying to keep your expression neutral. "And what else did he say?"

Your father raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden curiosity. "Why? Did something happen between you two?"

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it, waving your hand dismissively. "No, I was just worried he might’ve said something bad. You know me—I’m not exactly known for being polite."

Your father chuckled, seemingly buying your excuse. "True. You’ve always been a bit like a debt collector in business—firm and straightforward. But it works for you. That said, Wonwoo did mention he’d like to see you again."

You nodded slowly, muttering under your breath, "I bet."

"What was that?" your father asked, but you waved it off, diverting the conversation back to the files. You weren’t going to entertain this topic any further, not now.

Later that day, as you continued working, your phone buzzed with a message from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wonwoo asked for your personal contact. What did I miss?

You stared at the message for a moment, shaking your head in disbelief. The last thing you wanted was to discuss Wonwoo, especially after everything that had happened the night before.

Still, you went about your day as if nothing had changed. You ignored your father’s comments, brushed off Mingyu’s text, and mentally dodged every thought of Jeon Wonwoo. But then, as you drove home, your mother called. Of course, the conversation somehow found its way back to him. Jeon Wonwoo—this man you’d only met at Mingyu’s birthday, yet who seemed to be lingering in everyone’s thoughts.

You sighed as you politely listened to your mother, her voice bubbling with excitement as if Wonwoo were the best thing that had ever happened. Little did she know you had spent the night with him, and now you were trying to figure out what it all meant.

The next morning, you arrived at your office, only to be greeted by an overwhelming sight—buckets of flowers surrounding your desk. You stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed. The overwhelming scent filled the room, making the normally neat and orderly space feel chaotic.

"Someone’s been sending these non-stop since early this morning," your assistant said, standing beside you. "I don’t think they’ll stop unless you tell them to."

You picked up one of the cards attached to a bouquet, reading the note: I don’t appreciate the way we parted. Let’s meet again and clear up any misunderstandings.

Your eyes narrowed, already knowing who the sender was. You walked briskly to your computer and began typing an email to the flower sender—Jeon Wonwoo himself. You kept the tone professional, telling him to stop flooding your office with flowers and that, perhaps, you could meet again to "clear things up."

You hit send, sitting back in your chair with a sigh. Part of you wondered if you’d regret agreeing to meet him again, but another part—the curious part—was already anticipating it.

*

Wonwoo waited in the hotel room, his thoughts racing as he paced around. The same room. The same place where everything had begun on Mingyu's birthday night, when you had opened up to him—at least he thought you had. But the next morning, you were gone, leaving behind only a note and a sting to his pride.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't recognize himself lately. Since meeting you, he'd felt... off. Needy, even. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to wanting someone so much that it clouded his mind.

He remembered the note you left: It was nice. You’re experienced in this area. Along with it, you’d left some cash, as if he were some service you had paid for. That stung his ego more than he cared to admit. He should’ve been furious, but instead, all he could think about was craving you again—your skin against his, your presence.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned, watching as you casually entered the room. You kicked off your heels without care, tossed your expensive bag onto the couch, and sat down across from him with an air of confidence that was unmistakable.

"You’re late. Thirty minutes," Wonwoo said, his eyes following your every move.

You didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, you massaged your leg, looking at him with a tired yet unfazed expression. "As if you had anything better to do after this," you replied, hitting on the fact that he had canceled all his plans for the evening the moment he received your email this morning.

He didn’t deny it. He had dropped everything, cleared his schedule, just to see you. Maybe to talk, maybe more. He wasn’t hoping for anything to happen tonight, but if it did... well, he wouldn't be complaining.

"So," you said, leaning back into the couch, confidence radiating from you. "What exactly do you want to clear up between us?"

Wonwoo mirrored your posture, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward. "I don't appreciate you framing me as some playboy," he said, his voice calm but firm. He wasn’t used to being talked about like that, especially not by someone who clearly affected him more than he’d like to admit.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his accusation. "You’re not?" you asked, your tone teasing, as if daring him to deny it.

"I’m a very noble person," he replied, almost defensively. "I don’t mess around with lots of women, if that’s what you were implying."

You chuckled, the sound light and dismissive. "And that bothers you?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it silenced Wonwoo. Did it bother him? It shouldn’t. But coming from you, it did. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, deep down, he didn’t want you to see him that way.

"It shouldn’t," he admitted after a beat, his gaze locking onto yours. "But with you, it does."

Your expression softened, just for a second, before you smirked. "Interesting." You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "So, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Jeon?"

Wonwoo felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his composure. He didn’t know how this conversation would end, but he knew one thing: you had him wrapped around your finger, and you probably knew it too.

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. It did bother him, more than it should. And he wasn’t sure why. Normally, he wouldn’t care what someone thought of him—especially not someone who seemed so determined to keep their distance. But with you, it was different. He didn’t like the way you saw him, the way you assumed he was just another rich man playing games.

But it wasn’t just that. You challenged him in a way that no one else had. You made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling, and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t ignore it.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his gaze intense as he closed the distance between you. "I think you like pretending you’re the one in control," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "But I don’t think you mind letting me show you otherwise."

He watched you closely, waiting for a reaction. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, maybe even desire—but you masked it quickly, crossing your legs slowly, as if to test his patience.

"Bold assumption, Mr. Jeon," you said, your tone light but your eyes never leaving his. "But I don’t hand over control easily."

Wonwoo’s lips curved into a smile, dark and full of intent. "Who said anything about easy?" He let his hand drift to your knee, his touch deliberate and slow, testing the waters. "I’m just suggesting we explore this... dynamic a little further. See where it takes us."

He moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as his breath brushed your ear. "Unless, of course, you’re afraid you might like what you find."

The tension between you thickened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wonwoo could feel his pulse quicken, the anticipation coiling inside him like a spring ready to snap. You were playing it cool, but he could tell you were thinking it over. There was something between you that neither of you could deny.

Finally, you leaned back into the couch, crossing your arms with that same infuriating confidence. "You seem so sure of yourself," you mused, your voice teasing. "But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into."

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding a little higher up your thigh, the touch now more intimate, more daring. "Then show me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The tension between you was electric now, the pull irresistible. He had no intention of walking away from this without exploring whatever it was that had ignited between you since that first night.

And from the way your gaze darkened as you leaned in slightly, he knew you felt the same.

*

Wonwoo’s arms tightened gently around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he whispered, "Stay..." You hesitated for a moment, your mind already on the exit, but the pull of his touch made you pause. There was something about his embrace that felt too inviting, too comfortable to resist.

The familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, and without thinking, you leaned back into him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, a slow and deliberate motion that sent a subtle shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what it was that kept bringing you back here—to this very same room, to him—but the connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was never about love, but the chemistry was hard to ignore.

As his lips brushed your shoulder, you could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken invitation in the way his hand lingered on your waist. "I like this," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of you.

As you lay there, the memories of Seungcheol creeped back into your thoughts, despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Your relationship with him had been all-consuming, something that once filled every corner of your heart and mind. It was hard to think about him without remembering how much he had demanded of you—emotionally, mentally, and even physically.

With Seungcheol, things had started out like a whirlwind. He was intense, driven, and passionate, and for a while, you were swept up in it. You thought that kind of intensity meant love, that his need for you, his constant presence, was a sign of something real and lasting. But slowly, the weight of it all became too much to bear. His passion turned into control, his love into expectations you couldn’t meet, and his presence became suffocating.

There were good times too, of course—moments where he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him. But those moments were always fleeting, overshadowed by his demands. He wanted more than you could give, and in the end, you had nothing left to offer him.

The break-up had been brutal. Seungcheol didn’t understand why you were pulling away, and you couldn’t find the words to explain how drained you felt. He had taken so much from you, and by the time you walked away, you weren’t sure if you even knew how to love anymore.

Now, with Wonwoo, he didn’t demand anything from you. He didn’t ask for your heart, your promises, or your future. There was no pressure to be more than you were capable of being. It was a relief, but at the same time, it left you feeling hollow in a way you hadn’t expected.

You glanced over at Wonwoo as he lay beside you, his breathing slow and steady. He was so different from Seungcheol—calm, relaxed, and never overbearing. Yet, there was something about the way you kept coming back to him, something that felt just a little too easy, as though you were using him to fill a space that Seungcheol had left behind.

Maybe you were both just trying to avoid the emptiness, finding comfort in each other because it was simple. But deep down, you wondered if you were really healing or just hiding from the scars Seungcheol had left on you. The thought lingered as you closed your eyes, choosing once again to stay in the moment, avoiding the pain that lay beneath the surface.

"Are you leaving already?" Wonwoo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his hand resting gently on your arm.

You looked over at him, meeting his eyes. There was a question there, but it wasn’t the kind that demanded an answer. He understood that whatever you had together wasn’t complicated.

You shook your head slightly. "No, I’ll stay a bit longer."

*

You met Seungcheol again for the first time in five years. He now owned his own advertising label, just like the dream he'd talked about so many years ago. Today, he had come to your father’s company, probably without expecting that he'd be working with you. After all, Seungcheol had never fully believed in your competence back then, so he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see you sitting across from him as one of the company’s directors.

You steeled yourself with every ounce of professionalism you could muster, trying to suppress the erratic pulse that betrayed how unsettled you truly were. During the meeting, when your eyes met briefly across the table, memories flooded back. You were reminded of why you loved him so deeply when you were together. He was charismatic, driven, and had a presence that was still undeniably captivating.

But the love that once shone in his eyes was gone. He had moved on, you'd heard. And it was best for him—best for both of you, perhaps. You forced yourself to focus, nodding to your secretary, silently willing the meeting to end as quickly as possible.

The moment it was over, you gathered your things and hurried out of the meeting room, heading toward your office. Your footsteps quickened with each step, eager to put distance between you and the past. But just as you turned the corner, a familiar hand reached out and caught your arm. It was Seungcheol.

"Hi... How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

You bit your lip, fighting to keep your composure. "Great..." you replied, pulling your arm away from his gentle grip, the contact sending a wave of emotions you'd tried to bury long ago.

Seungcheol seemed to realize what he'd done and quickly took a step back, giving you space. "I’m sorry," he said, his expression unreadable. "You must be busy. It was... nice to see you again, Y/n."

His words were polite, but there was a weight to them, a shared history that couldn’t be erased. You nodded, offering a brief smile before turning away, your heart racing from the brief encounter. The man who had once held all your love was now just another face from your past—a past that felt closer than it should.

*

Once the climax hit both you and Wonwoo, you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air as your body trembled above him. His hands remained firmly on your hips, steadying you while the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. Wonwoo’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he caught his breath, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin.

"It was the best yet," he finally murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips, his voice low and satisfied. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your cheek as you lay against him, both of you basking in the aftermath of your shared experience.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words and the undeniable chemistry that always seemed to pull you back to him.

"You should ride me more next time," Wonwoo jested with a playful smirk, but his breath hitched slightly as you pulled away from him, the lingering sensation still sparking through him. He watched as you climbed out of bed without a word, fetching the bathrobe and slipping it over your bare skin.

As you walked to the couch and sat down, your eyes seemed distant, wandering as if lost in thought. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Wonwoo propped himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. This wasn’t like you—the usual confident, carefree attitude that had defined your time together seemed to falter for the first time.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, a hint of curiosity mixed with concern in his tone. He couldn’t help but notice the shift, the way you suddenly seemed disconnected. It was the first time he'd seen you like this—guarded, almost as if you were somewhere else entirely.

Wonwoo stood up, slipping into his pants before making his way toward you. He sat beside you, gently cupping your cheeks as his thumb brushed against your skin. He could sense something was weighing on you, something that perhaps had fueled the raw emotion in the way you'd been with him earlier.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispered, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes searched yours after the kiss, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what was really going on.

After a pause, you finally mumbled, "I realize... I'm changing so much." Your voice was soft, almost unsure.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch as he waited for you to continue. He knew there was more you needed to say.

"I'm so different from who I used to be," you confessed, your words almost a whisper. "I used to be so... pure. So used to being taken care of. I was needy, clingy. I didn’t understand things. And now... I don't like how I’ve become, like I’ve had to figure everything out on my own."

Wonwoo let out a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is it about us? Is that what's bothering you?"

You hesitated before answering, "One of them."

His grip on your face softened, his touch reassuring as he waited for you to unravel more of what was inside you. The rawness in your voice, the vulnerability, was something new between the two of you, and he wanted to understand.

"I've never done this with anyone..." you confessed quietly, your eyes dropping for a moment. "It’s amazing to be with you, Wonwoo. But I feel so hollow afterward. I feel... really bad. That’s why I always leave."

Wonwoo took your hand gently, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. "Because you don’t want to show me this side of you?" he asked softly, his voice calm but full of understanding. You took a deep breath, nodding in response.

"Are you going to let me go, Wonwoo? Like everyone else?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Wonwoo shook his head firmly, his gaze steady on yours. "I’m not going anywhere, even if you ask me to. I’m stubborn like that, Y/n."

Relief washed over you as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks," you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Wonwoo tossed his keys onto the counter, his thoughts still swirling. He leaned against the kitchen island, trying to shake the feeling that had settled in his chest since you’d opened up to him. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him.

He had always been good at keeping things casual, knowing the boundaries of a no-strings relationship. But something about the way you looked at him tonight—the way you confessed how hollow you felt—stirred something deeper inside him. He didn't like seeing you in pain. He didn't like that you were dealing with it alone.

But what could he do? He wasn’t supposed to care this much. You two were just... enjoying each other, right? No commitments, no expectations.

Yet, for the first time, he felt something beyond that, a pull he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to be more than just your distraction, more than just someone to pass the time with. But at the same time, he knew crossing that line could complicate everything.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t deny the truth anymore: he wanted to be there for you, to be the person you leaned on. But would you let him? And more importantly, was he even ready to be that person?

Just as his mind raced, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His mother's name flashed across the screen, and he answered on the second ring, grateful for the distraction.

Their conversation flowed easily, as it always did, catching up on life, work, and updates on the family. But when she shifted to more personal matters, his stomach tightened.

"Every mother wants their daughter to meet you, Wonwoo. I had no idea my son was that popular." Her voice was filled with pride and a hint of amusement.

Wonwoo chuckled, deflecting with a light jest. “You raised an amazing man, mother.”

Her laugh came through the phone, warm and familiar. “Maybe it's time you meet one of them. A dinner wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

He paused, the suggestion hanging in the air. It was simple enough, really—meet someone new, go through the motions. And yet, it felt like a heavier decision than it should have been.

Maybe she was right. Maybe meeting someone else, taking a step back from you, would give him the clarity he needed. Maybe that was what he should do—slowly distance himself from this complicated entanglement.

But as he sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, something inside him hesitated.

*

Your presence was impossible for Wonwoo to ignore. You sat just a few tables away, speaking comfortably with a man whose face he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. In front of him sat Sung Yubin, a girl his mother had been eager for him to meet.

“Is the food to your liking?” Yubin asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Wonwoo quickly shifted his gaze from your table back to her, realizing only then that he had stopped chewing his steak, distracted by your presence.

“It’s great. Please, help yourself,” he responded politely, though his attention wandered back to you again. He tensed when he caught you looking back at him, though you quickly resumed your conversation with the man sitting across from you.

“I’m glad we could have dinner,” Yubin continued, unaware of his distraction. “The school lunch today was weird, so I ended up skipping it.” She was a senior nursing student, and while her conversation topics should have interested him, Wonwoo found himself nodding absently to her remarks. She wasn’t exactly his type—always rolling her eyes at the waitstaff and focusing more on trivial complaints.

After the meal, Wonwoo excused himself, claiming he had another engagement when Yubin hinted at wanting him to drive her home. Though a flicker of disappointment crossed her face, she seemed satisfied when he hailed a cab for her. As she left, Wonwoo felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he spotted you stepping out of the restaurant with the man from earlier. A third person, a woman, approached, and after a brief handshake, the man walked away with her, leaving you standing alone.

A small smile tugged at Wonwoo’s lips as your eyes met his again.

“I thought you were on a date,” Wonwoo teased, stepping closer to you.

“Because yours was?” you shot back with a smirk, fully aware that you were right.

He chuckled, “Wanna grab a beer?”

You hesitated only for a second before nodding, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever was between you two wasn’t over just yet.

“Who was that girl?” you asked as soon as you were seated at the bar, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Someone my mother wanted me to meet,” Wonwoo replied casually, his eyes scanning the menu. He raised his hand to order an expensive bottle of liquor for the both of you.

“I thought we were just going to grab a beer?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his choice.

Wonwoo shook his head with a small grin. “Gotta treat you to something good.”

“Oh, trying to show off that you’re rich?” you joked, and he nodded proudly.

“That’s my favorite thing to do around you,” he bantered back, making you chuckle.

When the drinks arrived, you both clinked glasses in an unspoken toast. Wonwoo took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on your reaction. He watched as you took a sip, your face lighting up with satisfaction, and a sense of relief washed over him. He’d made the right choice.

“So, that guy you were with earlier... do I know him?” Wonwoo asked, steering the conversation back.

“He’s Choi Seungcheol,” you said, a name that clicked in Wonwoo’s mind.

“From Ads Coups, right?” Wonwoo asked, recalling the name from some big industry moves. You nodded.

“Business dinner? Or a friend?” he pressed further.

You hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like you were debating whether to tell him the truth. But then you took a breath and said it.

“Both.”

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change. He sat quietly for a moment, absorbing what you said, before you finally added the last piece.

“An ex.”

“I see…” Wonwoo nodded, acknowledging your words with a calmness that surprised even him. He didn’t press further, but the air between you suddenly felt a little heavier, a little more complicated than it had just moments before.

“Almost married him,” you confessed, a hint of irony in your voice. “But here I am… still being pampered by my mom to find someone.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.”

“At least you’re a good son,” you pointed out. “You actually meet the people your mom suggests. Meanwhile, I reject every single offer mine throws at me.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me one name. Just one, that your mom wanted you to meet.”

Without missing a beat, you looked at him and said, “You.”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “My mom, my dad. They’re big fans of yours.”

He grinned, clearly amused. “Well, I feel honored,” he said with mock pride.

“So, why’d you reject me?” he teased, leaning in slightly. “I mean, why reject the offer?”

You shrugged casually. “Same reason I reject all of them. I don’t see the point in meeting people just because my mom wants me to. Even if they’re rich. I’m rich too.”

Wonwoo smiled and raised his glass toward you. “Here’s to rich men,” he said, with a playful glint in his eyes, including both of you in the toast.

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. “To rich men,” you echoed with a grin, the shared joke lightening the mood as you both enjoyed the comfortable banter.

*

Wonwoo looked at you in surprise. You want him to stay?

Just like the other day, the two of you had returned to the same hotel room, indulging in each other’s company. Wonwoo was about to fetch his pants, thinking you’d want to leave as usual. But this time, you surprised him.

“Hm... stay,” you mumbled, eyes closed. Wonwoo didn’t hesitate; he slipped back into bed, pulling your bare body close to him.

As you relaxed into his warmth, you murmured, “Wanna go on a trip with me?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, curious. “When?”

“Earliest flight today. I want to go to Tokyo.” Your voice was soft, almost sleepy, but the spontaneity in your words caught him off guard. You sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but smile. Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and texted his secretary to book the earliest flight to Tokyo for two.

“Let’s sleep. We still have a few hours,” he whispered, gently lulling you into rest.

The next morning, after landing in Tokyo, Wonwoo asked as you both walked out of the airport, “You’re okay with taking a sudden day off like this?”

“Using my my-dad-owns-the-company card for the first time won’t hurt anybody,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Wonwoo chuckled, amused by your carefree attitude. “So, where do you want to go after this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist as the cab drove you to the hotel.

“Let’s see,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo smiled to himself, feeling your comfortable presence against him. He liked this—being with you like this, without overthinking or complicating things. Just living in the moment.

"Yeah," he thought to himself, "I really like this."

*

Wonwoo watched you, eyebrows furrowed, as you spoke to your mother on the phone. He found the interaction between the two of you amusing, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"At my office?" you said, trying to keep your tone calm as your mother inquired about your whereabouts.

"Don't lie to me. I'm at your office," your mother shot back, and Wonwoo stifled a laugh as you closed your eyes in frustration.

"I'm in Tokyo for business," you finally admitted with a sigh.

"And you didn’t bring Chan with you?" your mother asked, referring to your secretary still at the office.

"I like being by myself," you replied, your tone measured. "Besides, Chan has things to handle for me back home."

"That’s why you need to start meeting men. How about Jeon Wonwoo? I mentioned him before," your mother insisted.

Wonwoo’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ll think about it," you said, trying to end the conversation without drawing it out.

As soon as you hung up, Wonwoo, still intrigued, asked, "What was that all about?"

You casually took a sip of your coffee. "Just my mom trying to set me up with you."

A smirk spread across Wonwoo’s face. "I wish she knew what we’ve already done in bed—"

"Shut up!" You quickly covered his mouth before he could finish, your eyes wide with embarrassment.

Wonwoo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Why? Embarrassed to let anyone know how wild you were in the bedroom?"

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a spoonful of cheesecake and shoved it into his mouth to silence him, and he chuckled as he chewed, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You had spent the entire day together, enjoying the sights and sounds of Tokyo before deciding to fly back to Seoul the next morning. Wonwoo had taken you to all the places you’d been wanting to visit—arcades, restaurants, cafes, and even a clothing shop you had your eye on. By the time you both returned to the hotel, you collapsed on the bed, exhausted but satisfied.

When Wonwoo stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, he chuckled at the sight of you still sprawled out in the same position he left you.

"Go take a shower, you stink," he teased, playfully slapping your leg, making you groan as you slowly got up.

"I'm so happy but so tired. Tired but happy," you said, smiling through the exhaustion as you made your way into the bathroom.

After you’d showered and freshened up, you stepped out to find Wonwoo waiting for you at the table, a spread of food laid out.

"I ordered something," he said, motioning toward the dishes with a proud smile. "Figured you’d need some fuel after today."

Your stomach growled in response, and you sat down with a grateful sigh. "You always know exactly what I need."

Wonwoo chuckled, "Of course. Gotta keep you happy, even when you're tired."

You shared a quiet meal together, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes as you savored both the food and the company.

"Jeon Wonwoo," you called his name softly, pulling his attention away from his phone.

He shifted his gaze to you, curious. "What’s on your mind?"

"Don’t you feel like I’m using you?" you asked, your tone surprisingly serious.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay the growing unease in your chest. "Because I only call you when I need you."

Wonwoo's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not using me. We’re both busy, me with my work, you with yours. That’s just how life is."

You looked down at your plate, not entirely convinced. "But don’t you feel like... like I'm taking advantage of you? Your ego—doesn’t it bother you?"

He paused, setting his utensil down carefully as he studied you. "Where's this coming from?" he asked gently.

You sighed. "I’ve just been thinking. Men are always talking about pride and ego. Doesn't it hurt yours?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he considered your words. "Is that why you've built up your own walls? To feel equal to men?" he asked thoughtfully.

"In business? Absolutely," you admitted. "It’s a constant power struggle, and I have to keep up."

He nodded, understanding. Then he smiled softly. "You know, my ego did take a hit when you left me cash that day. But today? Nah, I don’t feel anything but happy being with you. I’m not keeping score, Y/N."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Happy?"

"Yeah," he continued, leaning forward a little. "Being with you—it doesn’t feel like a game of who has more power. I’m just enjoying your company. So, no, I don’t feel used."

You smiled, finally letting yourself relax. "Thanks, Wonwoo."

He chuckled and raised his glass. "You overthink too much, you know that?"

As you clinked glasses with him, a thought crossed your mind. "What if... I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious right now?"

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but remained calm. "I’d say that’s fine. We don’t have to define anything right now. We can just be, you know?"

You nodded, comforted by his nonchalance. "That sounds... nice."

After a brief silence, Wonwoo leaned in again with a playful smirk. "But if you ever decide to make it serious, just know—I’ll still beat you in Mario Kart."

You laughed, the heaviness of the conversation finally lifting. "You wish."

For the rest of the night, the conversation stayed light, the tension between you fading away as easily as it had come.

*

Seungcheol had been everything to you when you first started. As an intern, you admired his dedication, his leadership, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to do. He wasn’t just your manager; he became your mentor, teaching you the ropes in a way no one else had. You were eager to learn, even though you weren’t perfect—stumbling over presentations, sometimes missing the mark—but Seungcheol never made you feel small. Not at first.

He didn’t know who you really were. To him, you were just another intern, eager to climb the corporate ladder. It felt refreshing, in a way, to be seen for your efforts and not your last name. You soaked up everything he taught you, from strategic planning to how to carry yourself in high-stakes meetings. You admired him not just for his professional skills, but for the way he treated you—gently, yet firm when it came to work.

When he asked you out, it felt like everything was falling into place. You were growing in your career, and you had someone who believed in you by your side. Seungcheol was passionate about his own dreams too, talking endlessly about wanting to start his own advertisement company one day. You supported him, proud to see the ambition that had first drawn you to him. But then, things shifted.

After he resigned to pursue his dreams, something changed. He wanted you to leave the company and join him, to take a risk and build something together. But your responsibilities weighed on you, the expectations from your family were unavoidable. When you declined, Seungcheol didn’t take it well. He started subtly belittling your choice, acting as though staying in the company made you less bold, less ambitious.

The truth about your identity eventually came out, and that’s when the real cracks appeared. When Seungcheol found out you were the company heir, his pride took a hit. Your paychecks started outpacing his, your name held weight he could never match, and that, more than anything, stung him. He stopped seeing you as his equal, and instead, he saw you as a threat. He began making snide comments about your success, about how it wasn’t "earned" the way his was, how you had everything handed to you.

Your relationship with Seungcheol had changed you in ways you didn’t fully understand until much later. As the dynamic shifted, as his resentment grew, it left scars that ran deeper than you’d realized. You had loved him, truly, and for a while, you believed he loved you too. But the more success you found, the more he became a different person, someone who couldn't bear to see you surpass him.

It was like watching a man fall apart, piece by piece, under the weight of his own pride. He’d lash out, not always with words, but with the smallest gestures—a disapproving look, a dismissive comment. He stopped celebrating your wins, and instead, they seemed to remind him of his own perceived failures. The man you admired for his passion became someone who resented you for the very things that once made him proud. He had wanted you to be successful, but only as long as it didn’t eclipse him.

And you learned a painful truth from that relationship: that love, or at least the kind you’d experienced, was fragile. Men, as strong as they appeared when they were on top, could crumble when they felt they were losing control. It wasn’t just Seungcheol—it was the way he embodied this belief that men were only themselves when they were successful. When they stumbled, when they struggled, their pride and ego became brittle, breaking at the slightest challenge.

That relationship didn’t just end—it left you with a sense of distrust, of wariness. You’d given your heart to someone who couldn’t handle it when you started to grow beyond the version of yourself he was comfortable with. And that made you build walls, whether you intended to or not. You found yourself questioning every man’s intentions, wondering if they would also resent you when things didn’t go their way.

Seungcheol had stolen your capability to love freely. He’d left you with the belief that love was conditional, that it came with terms and conditions tied to power and success. Men, in your experience, wanted to be the center, to be the ones in control. And when they weren’t, they withered. They became smaller versions of themselves, unable to accept that you could be strong, capable, and successful without it taking anything away from them.

You stopped letting people in the way you once had. Sure, you dated, but it was different. Detached. You kept your guard up, unwilling to allow anyone the power to diminish you again. Every time you met someone, there was that lingering thought—what happens when they see the full extent of who I am? Will they shrink? Will they pull away like Seungcheol did?

Seungcheol hadn’t just hurt you—he’d left you with an image of men that was hard to shake. The ones who thrived when things were easy, but couldn’t handle the weight of your success. Men who were all pride and ego, fragile when the world stopped revolving around them. You didn’t want to think like that, but it was all you knew now.

*

"Your meeting with Jeon Wonwoo will be on Saturday. Make sure you actually come. And also, get dressed properly this time!" Your mother’s voice rang out as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at her, incredulous. "I haven't even said yes yet," you shot back, folding your arms defensively.

But your mother merely smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "I met his mother at a gathering yesterday. We talked for quite a while, and she mentioned the last girl he met wasn't his type. I showed her your picture, and she said you might be exactly what he’s looking for."

"But Wonwoo and Y/n are friends," your father interjected, his voice calm but firm from the other end of the dining room.

"I know," your mother replied smoothly, waving her hand as if the detail was inconsequential. "But that doesn’t matter. The impression we make on his mother is what's important."

Your brow furrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "What’s wrong with me exactly? I’m fine. I’m a great woman," you retorted, trying to keep your cool.

Your mother sighed dramatically, setting down her tea cup with a delicate clink. "I just wish I had raised you to be a more polite and less...brash woman." She shrugged, as though the issue was that simple.

"Polite?" You raised an eyebrow, sarcasm creeping into your voice. "I say please and thank you. What more do you want?"

Your father chuckled softly from behind his newspaper, causing your mother to give him a quick, disapproving glance. He always found humor in your back-and-forths.

Your mother’s words hung in the air, sharp yet laced with a familiar disappointment. You could sense her frustration, but it only made you roll your eyes in response.

“Y/N, dear, you are a great woman. But sometimes I wonder if you care about your future at all.” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not asking for much—just meet him. Wonwoo’s a good man, and you two already know each other. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s something more there.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Wonwoo and I are friends. I don’t need you playing matchmaker with someone I already know.”

Your mother gave you a pointed look, as if she had already rehearsed her response to every argument you could throw her way. “Wonwoo’s mother agrees that it’s worth a shot. Besides, friendships can turn into something more. You’ll never know unless you try.”

Your father cleared his throat. “Maybe we should let Y/N make her own decisions about this. She’s capable of knowing what’s best for her.”

Your mother didn’t relent. “I just want the best for you. Wonwoo is successful, respectful, and comes from a good family. That’s a strong foundation, isn’t it?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” you finally said, more out of a desire to end the conversation than genuine interest. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Your mother beamed, already envisioning some grand future for you and Wonwoo. “That’s all I ask.”

As you excused yourself from the table, you couldn’t help but think about Wonwoo and how bizarre it would be to approach him under these new terms. Would he know about the setup? Or would this just be another awkward encounter orchestrated by your families? Either way, it was bound to be interesting.

*

Your walls clenched tightly around Wonwoo as he thrust into you with raw passion, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his back, leaving streaks of red as he found just the right spot over and over again. Moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each movement as his pace quickened.

"What do you think our moms would say if they knew what we're doing right now instead of having that proper dinner?" Wonwoo's voice was a breathless whisper against your ear, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as his rhythm deepened.

You could hardly think, let alone speak, but somehow you managed to find the breath to reply, "They'd be thrilled... their kids are trying to give them grandkids." You shot back, your voice hitching with every thrust.

Your words clearly hit him harder than you anticipated. Wonwoo's cock twitched inside you, the mere thought of you carrying his child driving him wild in ways he hadn’t expected. His eyes darkened with lust, and his pace became even more relentless, the idea of you pregnant with his baby stirring something primal within him.

"Do you want that?" Wonwoo growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped against yours, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Tell me. Do you want it?"

The feeling of his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again had your mind spinning, your body trembling as the orgasm started to build in your core. You could barely hold yourself together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Fuck, Wonwoo... Don’t you dare... I'm so close... I'm cumming!" you managed to cry out, your body tightening around him.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hips tightened as he groaned against your neck. "I got you, baby," he whispered, and with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, riding out the high, his forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily. The air between you was thick with the afterglow, the heat of your bodies mingling together in the quiet aftermath.

"My mother said she wants to see me with a woman like you," Wonwoo said softly during aftercare, his gentle hands carefully wiping your body clean with a warm towel.

You leaned against his shoulder, too tired to sit up straight, and replied, "Everyone wants their son to be with a woman like me." Your voice was teasing, lightening the mood in the quiet aftermath.

Wonwoo chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Sure, you're an amazing woman—with amazing tits," he added with a playful grin.

You laughed at his words, playfully slapping his arm in mock indignation. He scooped you up effortlessly and carried you from the bathroom to the bed, tucking you under the soft duvet with a tender smile. After quickly cleaning himself, he joined you, sinking into the warmth beside you.

"Have you ever imagined the two of us together? Like officially together?" You asked, your eyes fluttering open to meet his, curiosity shining in your gaze. Your hand instinctively found its way to his arm, linking with him as if seeking reassurance.

"Every time happiness comes to me while I'm with you," Wonwoo replied, his voice low and sincere, "I always think about how wonderful it would be to share that happiness with you forever."

You turned to face him, your surprise evident in your wide eyes. "Okay, that was deeper than I expected."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead in a sweet gesture. "I told you I'm a romantic man."

"You are," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as warmth blossomed in your chest.

As you nestled against him, a thought crossed your mind, and you mumbled, “What if we made this official? You know, like really official?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise, and a grin broke across his face, lighting up his features. “Are you serious?” he asked, his excitement palpable. “You’re not just saying that?”

You felt a rush of warmth at his reaction and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I mean… why not? We get along so well, and I like being with you. I think we could make a real go of it.”

His smile grew even wider, and he pulled you closer, almost lifting you off the bed with enthusiasm. “This is amazing! I’ve been hoping you’d say something like that. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You chuckled softly, caught up in his excitement. “Really? I thought you had a whole parade of girls wanting to date you.”

“Maybe, but none of them are you,” he said, his voice serious now, making your heart flutter. “You’re special, Y/N. You make me happier than I ever expected.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of shyness and elation. “So, are we officially together then?”

“Absolutely!” Wonwoo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t believe this is happening. You have no idea how happy this makes me.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing the promise of your new relationship.

As he pulled back, he looked deep into your eyes. “I’m going to make you so happy, I swear. No more casual—it’s all in from here on out.” His excitement was contagious, and you felt a thrill of anticipation for what the future might hold for the two of you.

*

You walked with confidence in a beautiful dress that hugged your figure perfectly. Wonwoo’s hand rested comfortably around your waist as he strolled beside you, flashing charming smiles to everyone you both passed. You couldn’t help but feel proud of each other, relishing the chance to show off your blossoming relationship.

“Look at this power couple!” your mother exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight. You rolled your eyes playfully at her statement, knowing how thrilled she was about your relationship with Wonwoo after the so-called first meeting she had arranged a year ago. Now, you were here with him as his girlfriend at the company’s anniversary party.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ji. You look beautiful as always,” Wonwoo greeted your mother, bowing politely to both of your parents.

“Wonwoo, how are you? I hope Y/N isn’t being a pain in the ass, is she?” your father asked with a teasing tone, treating him differently now that he was your boyfriend.

“In no way could an amazing woman like me be a pain in the ass,” you mumbled loud enough for them to hear, a smirk on your face. Wonwoo chuckled at the light banter you shared with your parents before excusing himself to meet his friend, Kim Mingyu, who also happened to be your cousin.

“So, how’s the plan for tonight?” Mingyu asked Wonwoo, raising an eyebrow knowingly as he referred to his friend’s intentions to propose.

“I’m so nervous I could die,” Wonwoo confessed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Mingyu laughed, clearly amused by the new layer of vulnerability that Wonwoo was showing. “Don’t worry, she’ll appreciate everything you do,” he reassured, clapping Wonwoo on the back.

“I hope so,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you with a soft smile. The anticipation was palpable, and you could feel the excitement in the air. With each passing moment, you were both drawing closer to an unforgettable evening that could change everything.

[ceeberoni]

hey so i need mad help at a pretty terrible time!!

TL;DR I NEED ABOUT $1900 FOR ME AND MY PARTNER TO GET INTO THIS HOUSE WE GOT WITH SOME FRIENDS. ILL BE ABLE TO PAY RENT ONCE IM IN BUT THESE ARE THE REST OF THE COSTS WE HAVE LEFT BETWEEN ME AND MY PARTNER TO PAY THE DOWN PAYMENT/FIRST MONTHS RENT/PET DEPOSIT FOR OUR SHARE.

not including moving or like, living, during this time into those costs. i already feel bad asking for this much sdklfjslkdfskldf

PAYPAL - chocolatebananapop@gmail.com

VENMO - ceeberoni

KO-FI - ceeberoni

OR IF U WANT ART

COMMISSIONS - REDBUBBLE

ive been boosting my commission post to try and Earn My Money The Noble Way but no ones buyin so i need to do real ebegging cuz im really bad off right now and of course i feel fucking RANCID having to ebeg right now especially when so many other people are in much more dire straits than me at the moment

but im finally getting a house with my childhood friend and his partner (along with my partner) and i will FINALLY be moving out of a house owned by my abusive mom! and i no longer have qualms saying this about her because every one of my friends fucking hates her even when i try to stick up for her and im pretty sure that means shes probably the bad guy and not me but im not sure yet. i will keep you posted

anyway to cut right down to it i got kicked out of my house of 6 years by her cuz my sister and her kids needed a place to live (which like, yeah that tracks, she got all the kids and herself in a studio with a basement but theyve got a roof over their head, the kids at the end of the day are who i number one want a roof over the head of so its fine) and have been house hunting since like idk. late july or early august at this point idr when it was anymore. and it has been such a fucking shitshow but FINALLY after all these months we have a place with our friends and its NOT MY MOMS PLACE and were ALMOST FUCKING THERE

and like right now im in half of a fucking garage with no running water no kitchen no bathroom paying $400/m rent with no bathroom and no ability to save to move and im also paying $200 for mine, my sisters, and my nephews phone bill, no bathroom, i got my car insurance, i got the internet i cant even fucking use anymore that i pay for out of pocket so the kids can watch shit or whatever so do you see where the situation is like fucked up here also i have to walk across the street to take a shit and shower did i mention

umm so any money help would be lit, boosting would also be lit, have a nice day,

[poguehearted77]

Wild Child

summary: after being sent away to boarding school for being a wild child you're finally back and celebrating your return in the only way you see fit.

smut: pool party, ragers, drug use (alcohol, vapes n weed), size kink, Rafe is cocky, mentions of old flings, manhandling, hot tubs, they do it on her parents' bed, rough sex, step-mom slander, reader is such a flirt n a tease, curvy reader, dom! rafe, bratty! reader, skinny dipping, mentions of body shots, choking, spanking (like once).

The morning sun was ascending high into the sky when you finally managed to get yourself out of your king-sized bed, fit for someone of your status and your parents' financial standing.

Your socked feet took padded steps towards your window where you overlooked the hills of figure eight. This was the first time you'd looked out your bedroom window in years. With a deep inhale a soft smile etched its way across your lips. You were finally home, and you had the house all to yourself. Or so you thought.

Your ears pick up on muffled indistinct chatter that managed to travel from the kitchen, down the halls up the elaborate staircase and into your room. Quickly, you headed for the source of the voices and were disappointed to see your dad and his wife plaything, Maria, conversing over coffee at the kitchen island.

"I thought you said the Jet leaves at dawn? What are you guys still doing here?" You try not to sound too curious, arms crossing naturally with your inquiry. With a clearing of his throat, your dad speaks up, "You only just came back two nights ago. Maria and I just don't think it's the right time to leave you alone for the weekend."

You scoff, "Why? You still don't trust me after what happened last time? Get over it, I'm twenty-one now, you can trust me." As you walked over to the fridge for a glass of water, you heard a muted exchange of ideas behind you.

"You can't expect us to forget about all the damage you caused. We still haven't found anyone to repair my crystal vases." You take a long sip, trying to swallow your toxic thoughts with the water.

She thinks she can just waltz up and down the house with that huge ring on her finger and think that her opinion carries any value to you.

You took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile, pitching your voice to become as sweet as honey.

"I can never apologize enough for what I did back then, but how will I ever earn your trust if you don't give me the chance." Your doe eyes land on your father, specifically his weakened composure.

You're about to break him, you can see it.

He exhales, all the air escaping through his nostrils.

Broken.

He glances down at his watch, "Fine, but if you throw another party so help me god Y/n you'll never see grass again." You play it cool, thanking him with a simple hug and completely disregarding Maria before you make your way back upstairs.

It's as though a weight had been lifted off your chest. You needed them out of the house, you'd been planning this party since you got back and made sure all the guests knew to keep it on the down low, just until they were gone.

The hours fly by, and you hardly keep track of time as you and some of your long-time friends set up the house for the party that you shouldn't be hosting, but you're Y/n Sinclair. Parties are your thing.

"Macy, you let the people in, kay? I'm gonna go get changed." The sun was beginning to set and the music was already blasting, vibrating over the marble floors of the house. Every lyric was punctuated with a shaking of the speakers that could be felt even outside.

The neighbours hated to see you coming.

You know your dad's jet was en route to Fiji and he wouldn't be able to reach you until he landed which wasn't for another six hours at minimum but by then the damage will be long done and far too late to stop.

You make your way up the stairs, the bass thumping through the house and vibrating beneath your feet. As you step into your room, your reflection catches your eye, excitement sparking in your gaze.

With a quick flick of your wrist, you reach for the strappy black and red two-piece, slipping it on, the cool fabric hugging every curve just right. Each strap crisscrosses elegantly, bold yet balanced, making you smile at how perfectly it all came together.

Next, you grab the sheer cover-up, wrapping it loosely around your waist so it drapes with a hint of movement, a playful edge that sways with you. You run your fingers through your curls, scrunching them gently to bring out their bounce, each coil framing your face in soft waves. Reaching for your lip gloss, you swipe it carefully over your lips, catching the light with a glossy shine.

One last look, and you’re ready, your heart beating in rhythm with the music below. The speakers are already blaring, the energy practically calling you back down. You step out with a final tousle of your curls, ready to join the night.

The energy crackles through the backyard as you make your way to the top of the outdoor staircase. The sun has slipped beneath the horizon, casting a dusky glow over the massive pool below, illuminated by floating lights that shimmer across the water.

The bar is buzzing with people grabbing drinks, and in the corner, the foam pit is already filling up, laughter and splashes mixing with the heavy beat of the music.

A neon sign hangs across from the bar, glowing boldly against the evening sky: The Queen of Kildare is Back. You grin, amused at the sight of it knowing it was 100% Macy's doing, and take a step down. Conversations hush, replaced by the roaring blast of excitement as heads turn your way. Hundreds of people, from familiar faces to those you only vaguely recognize from your past in Figure Eight, pause and look up, anticipation brimming in their eyes.

As you descend, your cover-up billows behind you, revealing the bold lines of your black and red two-piece. The crowd’s reaction is instant, erupting into cheers, whistles, and applause that echo across the yard.

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n" They chant and you laugh. Every step closer to the party, you feel the atmosphere thicken, charged with that infectious blend of excitement and admiration. By the time you reach the bottom, someone’s already handing you a drink, while friends rush over to pull you in for hugs and greetings, their voices nearly drowned out by the music and shouts.

"Y/n Sinclair, s'Been a while."

There's a voice all too familiar addressing you from behind, prompting you to pivot to come face to face with a much taller Rafe than your brain could recall.

"Rafe Cameron. Long time no see." He goes in for the hug, your arms reaching over his broadened shoulders while his longer ones wrap around your waist before pulling back. He not so subtly checked you out, his tongue darting out over his lips briefly as he took you in and you did the same.

The buzzed hair sharpens his features, you think. Making his eyes seem darker, more intense, as they focus on you. His open linen shirt falls loosely over his frame, giving glimpses of his toned chest and the subtle gleam of a thin chain resting against his skin.

The shirt flutters with the breeze, barely hanging on his shoulders, hinting at the strong lines of his arms and drawing your eyes down to his relaxed, dark swim trunks.

He’s saying something, leaning slightly toward you, and his voice cuts smoothly through the bass of the party. Your eyes wander back up to his face, catching the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knows he’s caught your attention.

"You look good, too good. How long's it been?" It's hard for you to think with the heat of his gaze on you, but you don't falter, never surrendering to this never-ending game between the two of you.

"About 3 years." He hums, the way he looks at you, casual yet purposeful, makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, every sound around you fades, leaving only the warmth of his presence and the way he looks right at you, but you remind yourself to focus.

Rafe looks around the scene, eyes lingering over the wet t-shirt contest and then the game of chicken being held in the pool while others lounged on the various floaties or indulged in ungodly amounts of alcohol at the bar. As he does so, the pungent scent of weed drafts across your nostrils.

"Your old man know you're hostin' tonight?" You had to laugh, "Oh please, like he would ever let me have any kind of fun while he's in town. He and the skank are in Fiji."

The slight smirk that etches over his perfect lips taunts you. "So the house is yours?" He leans in, a little closer, closing the gap between you. "Until he comes back and banishes me again," You place a confident hand against his chest, pushing him away, "But for now, I'm here to party, and you should be too."

With that said you walk away from him, letting your hips sway with seduction radiating with each step. Rafe lets his thumb and fingers stroke over his jaw, feeling the weight of the pressure you'd just applied.

God, it was good to have you back.

The party raged on, slowly approaching its peak, body shots were going on at the bar, girls were doing lines in the bathrooms and the guys had insisted on a drunk game of volleyball in the pool.

Rafe took a break from the events of the party and watched from the sidelines on the couch, taking another hit of the vape that someone had passed to him, he's not sure he can remember who, and it wasn't relevant anyway.

The only person he had his sights set on is you. Watching you have the time of your life with your friends on the platform in the middle of the pool. Your little group, clearly intoxicated danced carefree while you'd begun to put your hands on the ground and throw your ass in circles.

Rafe choked, sitting up, some smoke coming through his nostrils at the interrupted airflow. He leaves his shirt behind on the couch with the abandoned vape, just as he heads for the pool topped hands him a beer which Rafe accepts before he gets in.

Maintaining a straight face as his body acclimatizes to the cool water he's almost immediately swarmed and roped into a round of whatever the current pool game was.

His icy gaze looks up to the center of the pool where you once were but are now nowhere to be found. "Looking for someone?" Your voice was mocking and he was grinning before he even turned around.

"I am actually." With little ripples in the water, he steps towards you maintaining a respectful distance that was driving you insane. "I was looking for someone to join me at the bar," He puts on a convincing facade but you roll your eyes, feigning innocence.

"Let me know if you find her," He slowly steps towards you and step back, "Don't play dumb with me, Y/n." Your plush lips form a gut-wrenching pout, "What do you mean?" Another step forward, another one back. The cycle repeats itself until he has you backed up against the edge of the pool.

Rafe’s hands find your waist, and before you can react, he’s lifting you effortlessly, placing you on the edge of the pool. You're reeling at the slutty display of his sheer strength.

Your legs dangle, brushing against his chest, and he steps closer, slotting himself right between them. His hands rest on either side of you, his arms framing you in as he looks up with that sly grin, every bit as teasing as you are.

“Always out here playin' games, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low, a quiet rasp just for you. “Gotta say, I respect it—always sticking it to your old man, doing your own thing.” He leans in, his gaze drifting down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Not many people around here have the guts for that.”

You scoff lightly, though your heart skips as his gaze lingers on you, intense and challenging. “Oh, please,” you tease, rolling your eyes. “Since when do you care about any of this?”

A quiet laugh slips from him as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along your thigh. “You think I haven’t been paying attention to you all these years?” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“You might’ve been gone a while, but don't think I forgot all those nights we had our fun.” His words hang heavy between you as he pulls back slightly. Now his hand rests on your waist, his voice dropping lower.

He tilts his head, studying you with that familiar glint of mischief. “Now that you're back, I think we should relive some of our traditions, for old time's sake,” he says, leaning in until his lips brush against your jaw, light and teasing, close enough to make your pulse race. He pauses, his thumb skimming your cheek, his lips hovering just above yours, waiting. “But don’t act like you don’t want this as much as I do.”

Before you can snap back, his mouth claims yours, the kiss charged with all the years of pent-up tension and that all-too-familiar heat. His hands slide up to cradle your face as you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. The kiss deepens, and when he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, he watches you with a smug, knowing grin.

“There it is,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw as if memorizing every inch. “That look you get right before we make a mess of things. I knew it—you missed this just as much as I did.”

If only someone could recount how the two of found yourselves stumbling up the stairs towards your room, your soaked sheer cover-up left forgotten somewhere in the house after Rafe pulled it off of your frame.

"Shit-- Rafe," your teeth dug into the flesh of your bottom lip as you reached to open your bedroom door, horrified to see two other people had monopolized it. They hadn't even noticed the door was opened so you quickly closed it.

"What the fuck, I thought everyone knew my room was off limits." With a quick scan, you noticed items were hanging off almost all the guest rooms in the hall letting others know the room was occupied.

"Shit, there's nowhere else to go in here?" You think quickly on your feet before rushing off to get something before returning with a key in your grip.

Rafe pulls you close with a smirk as you clutch the key to your father’s room, the gleam in your eyes daring him to follow. “Breaking all the rules tonight, aren’t we?” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with approval. His hand slips around your waist as you unlock the door, both of you glancing down the hall to be sure no one’s watching.

You twist the handle and push open the door, and his hand slides down to squeeze your hip, pulling you against him. “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a thrill down your spine.

Once inside, you barely have a chance to lock the door before he has you pressed up against it. His lips are on yours, urgent and fierce, his hands roaming over your body with possessive ease. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he breathes between kisses, his fingers tracing the bare skin of your waist as he lifts your top, letting it fall to the floor. “Thought I’d forgotten?” you tease.

Rafe just about growls, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone, his hands sliding lower as he backs you towards the bed. His fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms, tugging them down with a smirk that sends heat rushing through you.

Your heart races as you feel the cool, forbidden sheets beneath you, the thrill of defying every rule and having Rafe look at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. His hands slide up your thighs, lips trailing down your neck as he leans over you. “You know,” he murmurs, voice heavy with desire as he takes in the sight of you sprawled out before him, “I always knew you were trouble. Guess that’s why I can’t stay away.”

With a smirk, he leans in, his lips brushing over yours as his hands explore, both of you savouring the thrill of being tangled up in each other once again.

"Look at these perfect fuckin' tits." He curses, big hands cupping your breasts, kneading them and rolling your nipples between his index and thumb. Your back arches slightly with a gasp, chest pressing up into him and he laughs.

"Still so sensitive here, angel? Some things never change." He reminisces and you roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Rafe." With the blink of an eye, his much larger frame was caging you in from above, his bulging biceps giving him an erotic juxtaposition in comparison to your head.

Balancing himself on one arm he slinks his palm around the expanse of your throat with a weighted pressure. "Been gone so long you forgot your manners? Mm? That's fine, I'll be sure to fuck some sense back into you."

Your eyes flutter shut at his filthy words as you feel his hand move and begin to work you between your legs. "Your pussy's fuckin' soaked--shit." He hisses, gaze hungry and his body acts on his thoughts faster than you can register.

A particularly loud moan slips from you as you feel his tongue skillfully lap over your folds, splitting you open as the warmth of his tongue protrudes into your core. "Yes, fuck! Please, don't stop Rafe." You moan, one hand reaching down to hold him by the hair and it hits you that he'd shaved it all off.

You let out a frustrated gruff, both hands fisting the sheets while you're forced to feel the vibrations of his sick laugh running through you at your dramatics. Even the tip of his nose had been covered in your slick, your juices running down his chin as he ate you out like a man starved.

He wouldn't be surprised if they could hear you from outside, but he knows everyone is far too high, too drunk or both to hear you. It wasn't long before your legs were beginning to shake and came with his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

Taking deep breaths to recover from debatedly the best orgasm you've ever experienced, Rafe walked over to the far wall, out of sight, doing something you couldn't see before returning.

Without speaking he scoops you up into his arms, bridal style, another shameless display of his strength but it would be a lie to say it didn't drive you crazy. "What-what are you doing?" Your questions are ignored until he approaches the bubbling hot tub.

A wicked smirk curls across his lips as he eases you onto your feet in the warm water, his hands lingering on your waist, keeping you close. He gazes at you with that knowing glint, the steam rising around you both.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing down your figure, unapologetic. His fingers skim over your sides, sending a shiver through you that’s from anything but the water.

“Are you really just gonna stand there?” you call, feeling the thrill of his attention but wanting to turn the tables, your voice laced with playful challenge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckles, unfastening his swim trunks and letting them fall to the side with a carefree grin. “I plan on joining you,” he says, slipping into the water and closing the distance between you two with smooth, unhurried steps. You take a hard swallow at his size, you don't remember him being this big.

He was going to destroy you.

You raise an eyebrow, matching his smirk. “Pretty bold of you, Rafe,” you say, your voice teasing as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “Just like old times, hmm?”

“Better than old times,” he murmurs, dipping his head so his lips graze your ear, his voice a low rumble. “Because now, nothing is stopping us.” He punctuates his sentence by pressing his body up against your back, elevating you a bit so your torso leans over the edge of the tub, granting him easy access to you.

"Fuck, can't believe your ass got even more fucking perfect since last time." His hand raises and comes back down with a loud spank that pulls a sinful moan from your throat. "Rafe, stop teasing." You whine, arching your back and pressing back against him.

His composure already weekend, he decided to let you get away with it this time before he lined up the swollen head of his thick cock with your entrance, "Better grab onto something." That's the last thing you hear before you're being impaled on his dick, your upper half immediately falls forward, and he stills, giving you a second.

You're breathless, it feels like his cock was taking up all the room in your lungs. Some water had splashed over the ledge but that was the least of your worries. Your mind was hazy and focused on Rafe's grunts that escaped him with every snap of his hips.

"Wish you could see how hot you look right now. The Sinclair wild child knows how to take big dick like a champ." His words run straight through you like electricity, fanning the flames of the burning heat that was beginning to form in your belly.

"Shit--This pussy was fuckin' made for me, y'know that?" You moan at his possessive statement. You can only nod, your body had gone limp long ago as he drilled into you. "R-rafe! I'm-" As if you weren't close enough, his fingers begin to rub over your clit aggressively and you jolt with a shriek.

"Oh- fuck, don't stop! Fuck! I'm gonna cum! Please, Rafe." You beg, over and over, arms hanging onto the edge of the tub for dear life as more water splashes around you.

"Wait for me, hold it until I say you can come." You're chewing your lip raw, desperately trying to hold yourself back as he wrecks you from the inside out, his moans getting more frequent, a little more airy and breathless as he tumbled toward his edge of pleasure.

"Cum with me, Angel." Your body spasms as you finish together and he leans his weight against your back, his laboured breathing fanning your ear as you come down from your high.

"Not bad, princess." You couldn't respond and Rafe took note of this, carefully holding you up with one final smug remark, "Hope I didn't wear out the queen of Kildare."