#and i feel like i'm losing my mind over such small things. i need to put a stop to these thoughts but I CAN'T

[h0efor2ho]

Tutoring Temptation

Wonwoo X Reader

WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )

TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.

You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.

The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."

Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.

"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.

He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.

As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.

The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.

"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"

You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.

"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice  things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."

You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.

As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."

You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."

You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."

His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.

"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."

The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change.  As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.

Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.

As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.

The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind. 

As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed. 

“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.

The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.

He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem… different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."

A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.

Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss. 

He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.

Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.

He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.

 His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.

He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance,  his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow. 

He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes  for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile. 

"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him. 

"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making  your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you. 

His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be. 

"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.

His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"

You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[skeleton-on-wheels0]

.

[maskedbyghost]

jealous!Simon is on my mind 24/7

even better if the two of you are secretly fucking bc he is scared of feelings, commitment, relationships, and blah blah blah…

and simon wasn’t used to feeling jealous. he had trained his emotions out of him long ago, or so he thought. but as he stood in the doorway, watching you stroll across the shared kitchen on the base, your back turned to him, the name "mactavish" boldly displayed on the long-sleeved shirt you wore, something twisted in his chest.

the sight of you wearing his shirt, so casually, stung in a way simon hadn’t expected. he cleared his throat, trying to sound indifferent, but the edge in his voice betrayed him. "that’s johnny’s shirt."

"i know." was the only thing you said, smirking since he couldn't see your face. you knew exactly what you were doing, but in that moment, you didn’t care.

"why is johnny's shirt on you?" simon asked, his voice low but tight with tension. he tried to keep his tone neutral, but the undercurrent of jealousy and frustration was hard to hide. seeing you in johnny’s shirt stirred something uncomfortable deep inside him, a mix of possessiveness and insecurity that he wasn't used to feeling. he hated how something so simple made his chest tighten, how the sight of you in someone else’s name made him feel like he was losing control of the one thing he was afraid to admit he cared about.

"oh, he gave it to me because i was cold," you said, pouting slightly as you turned around to face the only man you ever wanted "he is such a nice guy."

simon managed a slight nod, his mind blanking from the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him. everything felt too much, too fast. meanwhile, you casually turned your back to him again, giving him another clear view of soap's name stretched across your shoulders as you began making your tea. the tiny grumble that escaped simon’s lips didn’t go unnoticed—it sent a wave of satisfaction through you, a small victory that made your day. you loved torturing him. and, after all, he did deserved it.

frustrated, he walked over to the sink, grabbing a glass of water, hoping it would cool the fire raging inside. but as he turned, his grip slipped, and the water splashed across your front. simon froze, watching the water drip down your shirt, half-shocked and half-relieved for the excuse to make the shirt disappear.

simon froze, his eyes glued to the water dripping down your shirt. after a beat of silence, he muttered, "well, guess you’ll need to take that off now. what a shame."

shocked, you watched as he put the glass down and left the room, still feeling the cold water seeping through the fabric. did he seriously just accidentally splash you and then walk out like nothing happened? that bitch.

*

later, as you slept in your bed, wearing your shirt this time, you stirred slightly at the feeling of someone’s arms wrapping around you. you didn’t even need to open your eyes or turn around—you already knew who it was. that familiar warmth could only belong to simon.

"simon?" you muttered groggily, barely able to make out the shape of him in the dim light. "what are you doing here?"

"shh, just sleep, pretty girl," he whispered softly, his breath warm against your ear. "i just wanted to apologize for how i acted earlier."

"i'm listening," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper.

simon’s arms tightened around you as he spoke. “i’m sorry for earlier. i know i’ve been pushin' you away and acting like an idiot. seein' you in johnny’s shirt... it just brought out this jealousy i didn’t want to admit i had. i hate feelin' like i’m not enough, or that someone else might have a piece of you. the truth is, i want you to be only mine. i can’t stand the thought of you being with anyone else. i just wanted you to know that, even if i messed everythin' up.”

“well, isn’t this a surprise? i didn’t realize it took me wearing johnny's shirt for you to admit your feelings.” you said with a hint of a smile, turning around to kiss him softly. simon sighed into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of relief and affection.

simon pulled back slightly, his eyes intense as he rested his forehead on yours “i mean it, you know. you’re mine—only mine. no one else gets to touch what’s mine.” his voice was firm, yet tender, which made his words more meaningful.

"did you have a similar conversation with soap?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

simon grinned, leaning in even closer. “yep, told him to keep his wardrobe to himself unless he wanted a 'property of simon' label slapped on everything he owns.” he sealed his words with a gentle, lingering kiss, his lips tenderly brushing against yours as if to mark his claim in the most intimate way.

*

soap: so, i guess it worked?

y/n: your shirt got wet, but i got what i wanted. thanks, bestie.  

soap: i think i got worse treatment from simon than the shirt did, but anything for my two lovebirds.

[acid-ixx]

ch.2: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

read until the end for an author's note.

*"XX/XX/XXXX, entry no. 13.

i hate everything. i hate my family. i hate my father, i hate my brothers, i hate my classmates, i hate alfred, i hate this place, i hate my mom, i hate everyone.

why can't i ever get what i wanted? what do i have to do? i tried so hard to be everything for them, but why do i only amount to nothing? it's been a year, or two, i don't know. it hurts trying to remember when was the last time i saw him. saw, not talk, because he never talks to me, bruce never even looks at me. and i hate myself for trying to get him to look at me.

is he disgusted at me? does he see my mother in me? does he hate me that much? i don't know, i don't want to know, it hurts to know. i don't know why i'm trying anymore, i don't know how longer i can last in this hell. i can feel it, the longer i stay here, the more i lose a part of myself. i don't want to be here.

i don't want to pray anymore.

so if there's any god out there watching over me, then i wish for you to burn, to suffer, to go through the same thing i have been experiencing for years— all for putting me in this place. i would've been fine living in the streets with my mother. i would've been alright providing for our small family, i would've known to never get my hopes high, but you took her away from me!—

i hate you."

"master (name), are you awake? dinner is ready."

you had to shut your diary at the sound of the knock and alfred's voice.

"alfr-"

a cough, hoarse and croaky, cuts you out from calling his name. it was accompanied by uncontrollable sniffles, mucus blocking your nose from breathing properly. your room was dark, save for the lamp that lights up your bedside, where you currently were seated on your bed to write another entry, grip on your pen unknowingly harsh. you didn't even have to look at your reflection from your phone laying beside the diary to know that hiding your tears were fruitless.

salty were the crystalline droplets that streaks your face, but bitter were the emotions that had your heart ache.

you hear a sigh from the other room. before he could muster a reply, you beat him to it.

"i'm not eating dinner, alfred," you hate hearing your voice, sounding so obviously scrathy from the hours of wailing. "at least not with them. i don't want to get out at all."

"then may i at least bring them over to you, master (name)?"

his answer was final, you have no choice on retaliating and starving yourself like you did for the past few days. but it wasn't your fault that you had forgotten your body's needs. it wasn't your fault that your mind blanks itself out on the dinner table. it wasn't your fault that bile quickly crawls up your throat at hearing their voices.

you simply lost your appetite seeing them happy without you.

alfred pennyworth would never play favorite.

it was drilled into his head ever since he had sworn to serve the wayne family and its extended members— he is to serve anyone and everyone, regardless if they respect him or they do not; as long as they do not pose any danger within the manor, then he is to attend to them.

you'd think that in his decades of service for the wayne's - with all the contrasting personalities he had to deal with - he would maintain professional standards and tell everybody in the world, "i, of course, do not favor anyone within the family, i live to serve and that is truth." when in fact, he wouldn't hesistate to admit that he does, in actuality, have a favorite.

and no, it wouldn't be the eldest child, dick grayson, as much as he is alfred's pride and joy, nor would it be the youngest, damian wayne, who had been slowly correcting his mistakes. it wouldn't even be the head of the house, master bruce.

it would be you, (name) wayne, the infamous, yet forgetten child of the wayne family.

it wouldn't be a far fetch for alfred to admit that you weren't like the others. in all of the years that he served the wayne's, you were a contrast of the family.

the first few hours that he had picked you up from the police department upon the news of bruce's secret child, he knew you were more than just a child raised by the brutal streets of gotham.

you pose secrets that speak of the underground.

he remembers your seated form on the stiff chair of the interrogation room, pose unnervingly straight, as if you had solidified yourself against the metal seat. your fingers were the only signs that showed life, twiddling with each other as if it's some form of distraction.

you stared at nothing.

not even at the police as your name was called for pick up.

it took merely a signature of confirmation to dictate the future years of your life.

what's left of your belongings were given to alfred. the police officer, a woman with a kind smile then had to walk across the interrogation table to pat your back, gesturing for you to stand up and follow her and alfred on the way outside of the station, where the car was parked.

you hadn't uttered a word nor snapped out of your dreamlike gaze. not even when you were greeted with a thousand clicks of the cameras, the buzzing crowd that drowns the police station, or the hundreds of voices that yell at you to look at them.

(name) (last name), now formally adopted by bruce wayne, would be (name) wayne. it wouldn't be a shock that your sudden appearance as the child of a scandalous relationship between a prostitute and a billionaire would cause immense reactions. news would be spreading left and right, most of which were negative on your side.

he had to shield you from the crowd of photographers and journalists itching their way to the crowd to get a glance on you.

yet you didn't display any discomfort. you had only sat on the car obediently, fastening your seatbelts robotically and ignoring the lenses that unsettlingly tried to poke through the car windows to take pictures of you.

you were more like batman than you were bruce.

alfred had tried to get you communicate with questions like, "how are you over there, master (name)?" yet you would only mumble unintelligible responses to his questions without any ounce of emotion. he had to look at the rear view mirror to take in your stiff form. again, your eyes were set on nothing, even if they were casted down on the carpeted floorboards of the car.

when he had first met bruce, that child was overflowing with anger and vengeance for his parent's killer, yet you, who refused to explain your mother's disappearance, are devoid of anything.

the silence was defeaning throughout the ride. the only comfort that was provided was the rain that began to patter against the glass windows.

alfred throught you would retain the same behavior the entire day.

yet it was only when you first walked up the steps of the manor did your demeanor change, fingers immediately reaching up to hold the cuffs of his sleeves, pulling it as if you were hesitant to step in.

the first emotion you had shown him was concern, like a switch had flickered you out of your trance. it was the first time in a while that alfred had to do a double take to check if what was happening was real.

"can you... hold my hand?" and it was the first time he had heard you speak, voice unnaturally scratchy from the lack of water. you stared at him with wide, doe eyes that refused to blink, waiting for answers. alfred had to gaze at your entire body to finally notice that you were covered head to toe in sloppy bandages with blood seeping through the grime-filled gauze. your shoes were worn, your clothes were ripped, and other uncovered scars littered your body.

the most conspicuous color on your shirt was crimson red.

yet you do not display pain.

a child, five years of age, had been through more than enough anguish to know how to block their pain out.

you were unlike the rest, truly, you were unwavering of the world's cruelty.

the world does not deserve someone like you.

alfred takes it in himself to always hold your hand after that.

through the mansion doors, inside the kitchen, on your way to school; whenever and wherever, as long as he had time.

even if it were filled with scars and bruises, dirt and grime, he will always hold your hand if it meant guiding you through the darkness of the manor.

you may not consider yourself bruce's child, but you will always be alfred's.

another knock on your door had you snapping out of your trance. time passed by so quickly in the manor. well, it does when you have nothing to do but stare at your diary, draw on your sketchbook or scroll through your phone. yet time would always be the quickest whenever you drown in your own misery.

"come in," you croak out, aware that it would only be alfred who would come by your room. it was long ago since you had given up on awaiting for dick's visits.

a turn of the knob, then the door swings quietly; the hinges creak, you need them oiled sooner. alfred walks in, you notice he holds a tray that contains two cupcakes and a plate of your favorite dish, but you don't notice the small box with a bow hidden skillfully from the back of the tray. from over your seat, you could already smell the aromatic herbs that flutter in the room and see the colorful frosting from both cupcakes; an already lit candle sticking in from one.

the candle at least provides just a split second of light inside your dim room; the moonlight just like your family, absent.

alfred graciously places the tray on your nightstand, on the left of your diary. your room was still too silent.

you could only hear yourself.

"master (name), are you simply going to sit there and stare? or would you rather i spoonfeed you like i had when you had broken your wrist?"

you blink it out again, oblivious to your very own hyperawareness. alfred's still here. you hope that, in the presence of darkness, he wouldn't see just how much of a mess you are. how your hands could barely grip onto anything, hair unwashed, face stained with tears, difficulty breathing through the buildup of mucus, foot tapping up and down erratically— you wished he would pretend to be blind about your suffering for just this once.

"no—" came your sudden reply, "i can- yeah, i can eat by myself."

it's harder to lie to yourself than it is to others.

he looks at you with doubt, it makes you shiver.

despite you wishing for company inside the manor, you could never be used to attention. it would never be normal for someone like you. though, you wish it was. you wish you never hesitated when someone gives you attention.

you hear your mattress creak, there's a dip on your bed. alfred sits beside you, only then did you realize just how quickly you lean into his side, craving for warmth in the solace of your empty room.

everything hurts, it truly does.

you wish you were strong enough to cease the sudden burst of tears when his one hand circles your shoulder and the other holds the cupcake with a candle near your face. and you wish that you weren't so weak in the presence of another, trying to find a semblance of your worth in their attention.

you at least try to stifle your sobs—

"happy birthday, master (name)."

— but you were always weak, yet alfred never seems to mind, patting your back to console you from your wailing.

you blow the fire out with a single promise to yourself, crying a bit more when alfred had given you a gift box, laced with a ribbon of your favorite color.

it was one of the few gifts you would cherish, fondness seeping into the cracks of your heart.

though it wouldn't erase the bitterness that fills your being either way, knowing your family is still downstairs, unaware of the anguish the torment that they have put you through— it's still enough to let you hate alfred a little less.

"alfred?"

it was your meek voice, one that was always drowned out by the sound of the dishes clanking.

"yes, master (name)?" yet alfred could always strain out the sound of anything just to hear your talk. after all, you were a silent kid throughout your childhood.

"—if i move out of this place; would promise you wouldn't forget about me?"

... (name) wayne was full of surpises.

even at the ripe age of seventeen, and in the near fourteen years of raising you, alfred could never predict your words nor your actions.

you had always said things spontaneously, carrying an aura of awkwardness in your tone, reminiscent of someone who had their personal growth (moreover their social life) stunted.

but now, with the way you had said your resolve so confidently, it felt like he was looking at a different version of you; all the more confident and resilient.

except... you were behind him when you had said that - so he wasn't really looking at you - eating the first batch of his cookies whilst he was polishing the dishes with a cloth.

when he had turned around to look at you, though, you were still the socially inept child he knows and love, sitting on the breakfast bar and twirling around the stool as you attempt to not get crumbs everywhere. you were still so young in his eyes.

it's just, the way you had looked at him expectedly like you needed his approval that shocked him. it was always your eyes that had expressed the most emotions, glazing with anticipation for his response.

he knows it when you lie, and right now, you were dead serious in your resolve.

alfred had to relax the crease on his brows before he ages faster than he already is.

"well, master (name)," he continues, turning back to wiping the dishes clean before he could fully face you. "i would fully support you in your... journey, but what warranted you to be suddenly motivated on moving out?"

alfred had finished setting aside the dishes, but he still doesn't look back.

"i mean, i thought i already told you? i have a scholarship for college but it's on the other side of gotham and...

— i kind of don't want to be chauffeured by a limo around the campus everyday, you know? so the next best thing is to get a dorm."

alfred knows it when you lie. and right now, your hesitance tells him everything he needs to know.

you may have proved a point, but that point was an entire lie. with a person name wayne flaunting across a city whilst riding a limousine, you might find yourself into more trouble than anything else.

but he had always been the one to pick you up and drop you off from elementary and halfway through your highschool life— and you never seemed to mind until now.

it doesn't take a genius to know that you had already deviced a full plan of moving out and taken it into action; all you had to do was confront the only man in the manor who had cared about you enough to raise you about your worries.

it wasn't enough to convince him to let you go, though, especially not right after an incident that had occured prior to you highschool life. if he allows you to gain independence in gotham, he wouldn't know how long you would last.

but when he looks back at you again, he couldn't bring it in himself to oppose to your whims. you need a new environment; one that provides you a way to gain independence and, most preferably, social skills. staying cooped up in a manor with barely anybody talking to you does more harm than good.

and being ignored by your own family for almost fourteen years wouldn't be a great way to celebrate your already nearing eighteenth birthday.

alfred doesn't want to admit it, but if he keeps you here any longer, you would never grow up. one person could only do so much.

he whips out a sigh, looking at you with resignation in his eyes. but you know it in yourself that he swears his life on the promise.

"master (name)," he walks over to you, eyes darting at the cookie crumbs that litter around your mouth making a note to scold you on your manner later. he sits directly in front of you, hand patting your head as you merely stare at him expectedly.

"i have raised you for almost fourteen years, it's like you are my very own child. i would never forget you." he takes your hands in his. "but you have to also promise me to stay safe out there, master (name). call me once you're there."

alfred would find a way to get you to come back eventually, even if it meant utilizing your family's neglect, which was primarily the reason why you had moved out on the first place.

he just hopes you wouldn't connect the dots and pin the blame on him once you're back and safe in the manor.

and now, it had only been months since you had gotten away from the manor. he was proud of your development, of your choice and overall, you, but he wouldn't lie and say he doesn't miss you.

he misses hearing your voice directly, the line on the phone being too blotchy to properly hear you. he misses it when he would sit on your bed as your only audience whilst he watches you paint on your canvases, drawling on and on about highschool's latest drama. he misses it when you would always be the first to taste his dishes, face lighting up whenever the food was seasoned up; now he has to constantly remind you to eat a nutritious diet, even offering to send you money whenever you mention you were short on it.

in the good of your heart, you would always decline, even going as far to deny him of any liberty to track you down and bring you a meal himself.

alfred misses you.

does he regret allowing you your freedom? not really, no. but he knows it in himself that a greedy part of him prefers it if you were would visit the manor occasionally during your vacations, at least to bond with him. but you simply chose not to, even going as far to legally change your name once you had become eighteen so you wouldn't be associated with your father's last name.

but that wouldn't erase the past you had tried to meticulously cover.

(name) wayne may have been a name forcefully deleted off of the face of the internet, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have its conspiracies of its own. nobody knows who you are beyond the blurry, unsolicited pictures of you. it may have been a photograph of your back, or articles published in unknown websites and buried at the far end about a kid leaving a police station and entering through the fancy gates of the wayne manor.

and most importantly, you are a product of a one-night-stand.

but they don't know who the mother is, don't know your age, or where you come from, and what business bruce has with the woman to guarantee your adoption at the instance she had disappeared without warning.

your existence was a mystery most would like to solve. after all, it was your picture that was plastered all over the newspapers and articles, it was your name that journalists whisper and it was a silhouette of your face that the underground knows by heart. every known information about you was shared discretely yet efficiently like some sort of virus.

you were a target for interest, a large sum of money if they will. and alfred had taken it in his hands to make sure there would never be a repeat of what had happened before.

it was a clumsy mistake, one that cost you your memories, and one he swears on his life he'll never make again.

the first course of action he needs to arrange, which may seem difficult for most; he needs to confront bruce.

after all, your freedom is your doom.

the wayne manor, in all its glory, could only be described as this palace overflowing his its abundant history and fame.

it was a castle that houses a boy who had lost his parents and became gotham's very own vigilante who stalks through the night to lessen the very evil that devours its citizens. it was the training grounds where the robins, sidekicks dressed in colorful attire, opposite to batman, were raised to be worthy enough to stand by the dark knight's side. but most importantly, it was a home for troubled children who were in their journey of their very own personal struggles.

yet even in its exterior splendour, it would always be innately overcome with loneliness.

for someone like bruce wayne, he embraces this desolation just as he embraces his alter-ego, batman, who wears a suit of black and dons an aura that demanded fear.

even if he carries the persona of 'brucie wayne' a ditsy, playboy who enjoys galas and sleeping with women every other night, he prefers solitude over the sea of interviewers who throng around him like he was a piece of meat.

it would be the only time he could focus on his countless of stacked paperworks to sign and his plans to ransack another criminal's master plan.

before winter could cover gotham in its sheet of pure, white coldness, rain would always terrorize the skies. he finds this the perfect atmosphere; dark grey clouds prevent the sun from peaking through, droplets of rain would pelt against the vast windows that surrounds his study, and there was enough background noise to block out any sounds that would pass through the door.

bruce wayne was focused on his work, and that meant disturbance wasn't allowed inside the manor. thankfully, it was a quiet, uneventful afternoon today.

in fact, it was all too abnormally quiet.

his scarred hands work through signing papers effiently and effortlessly, practiced fingers signing papers after he would meticulously scan over the paragraphs of texts that scale from business deals to partnerships to buying a piece of land. then later, once the moon rises, he would have to patrol with damian and disrupt another drug trade that had been recently dealing with children on the alleys of gotham.

that means he has to sign or reject at least half of the papers before evening falls through, so he could have alfred send them over through the post office tomorrow morning.

he was at least a quarter way through his work, though, when his flow was disrupted by a courteous knock by the mahogany doors.

he didn't have to look up or ask who it was, knowing it was alfred, his butler.

"master bruce, i have your tea ready, along with news to bare," bruce could hear the tone of urgency and a tinge of sullenness in alfred's voice. it was rare for alfred to be emotionally distressed, as he was typically the most composed out of everyone in the family.

"come on in, alfred," bruce's vocal chords were gruff, raspy whenever he's too engrossed in whatever he was doing.

but he was piqued at the news alfred was eager to share, the butler expertly turning the knob and entering with a tray that holds a hot serving of tea.

bruce stopped signing the papers, putting down his pen as he watches alfred, composed as always, place the tray down on his desk, not a single clank that was produced from the metal sheets. he watches as alfred reflexively pours him a cup of tea.

it was only after that action that the two share eye contact, alfred stationing himself to the right of bruce's desk.

if he wasn't a detective, he wouldn't have noticed the furrow of alfred's brows, which was uncharacteristic of the composed butler.

he reckons he should address the elephant in the room.

"what is it that you want to tell me, alfred?" bruce swivels his chair to face alfred, fingers tapping the mahogany desk rhythmically.

"master bruce, i figured you should have known this for quite a long time ago, but your third child had moved out on their own and now lives at the opposite side of gotham. right now, they may have been struggling to make ends meet."

huh?

"what do you mean, alfred? you're aware that tim is currently living in the manor—"

"no, master, i am talking about your third, not fourth child; master (name)."

... (name)?

ah, his... other child.

alfred looks at his seated form, expecting the befuddled reaction from bruce.

it doesn't take long for bruce to recover from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowed the same way as alfred as he leans against his chair.

"and what of (name)? why was i not updated about them?"

alfred had to stifle a groan as he then glares at bruce with what he could suppose was exasperation.

"i had already told you about their leave months ago, master bruce. you had simply waved me off whenever the topic is of master (name)." the butler's glare hardened, reminiscent of the times where bruce was scolded as a child. and like a child, he doesn't know what he had done wrong.

"i feel it is time for you to take it into your hands to deal with master (name)'s situation right now. i do not have access to their location and just like you, they are stubborn and refuse to accept any financial aid that comes to them in any form—"

to make matters worse, alfred had the gall to stop midway into his explanation, sighing and blinking unnervingly which catches more than bruce's attention.

"they would rather not admit it, but if they were to fail to pay for this month's rent of their apartment, they would get evicted from their very own living space."

at pretty much the last sentence, bruce's gaze hardened. not at alfred, no, but at the thought of you; his... forgotten child. if it was money that you need, why had you not ask for any allowance in the first place? bruce would admit that, well, it had been too long since he had last seen your face, nor even... remember it—

but you were still a child of his and he wouldn't deny you of an allowance if it meant persuing your... highschool or college dreams...?

shit, what grade are you in?

why didn't he know you moved out in the first place? wait—

"alfred, how long has it been since they had last moved out?"

"roughly six or seven months ago, master."

"ah, but having a place of your own as a minor would be prohibited by law."

"master bruce, they're eighteen. they're old enough to live in their own apartment."

eighteen years old...? how long had it been since he had last seen or heard of you? if what alfred had said was true, that the butler had attempted to reach out to him about you, then why had he not remember in the first place? you were a quiet kid, sure, but for someone like bruce, people would always not be overlooked.

it wasn't in him to easily forget, but he hates how he couldn't muster up a single memory of your face— not even your hair color nor your eyes. did you even... exist in his eyes? there was not a single memory of you that he could come up in his head.

his child was eighteen now, how could he not have known in the first place? how could he not recollect a single birthday of yours? or any celebration or gala that had you in it?

alfred's sigh snapped him out of his trance once more.

bruce looked up, seeing resignation upon alfred's face. he simply stood there, posture straight as always, but bruce couldn't wash away the shame that cages his heart when there was not a single image of you that pops up in his mind— alfred's disappointment merely worsened

the tea in his desk had long since gone untouched, but bruce couldn't bring it in himself to drink a single drop of it, even if his lips were dried and his throat was begging for even a single droplet of water.

he denies himself of any relief.

"i figure i should leave you in your own, master bruce, to at least compose yourself before nightfall. please do take your child into consideration, though, enough time has passed since you have last seen them." alfred states, as if it was a matter of fact. and it was, bruce should've known about your leave, as your father and as the man who took you in, he should've.

so before the butler could even take a step, bruce hastily stands up from his seat, pen long since discarded on his desk and a quarter of the papers are now messily stacked upon each other, but bruce pays them no mind.

"take me to (name)'s room right now, i need to see things for myself."

if bruce couldn't even remember a single instance of you, then maybe a trip to your room would be enough for him to remember.

but if that doesn't work then... bruce would a find a way, he always would.

and as your father, he needs to at least support you, even financial no matter your stubbornness? even if the shame he feels right now is so immensely disturbing, and the migraine is quickly finding its way into his head— he needs to know more about you, his actual third child.

bruce wayne needs to see your face just once.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: 5k+ words. no beta, we die like jason todd with a crowbar. my least favorite part of writing the chapter is literally starting it. i had at least 5 drafts all lined up and it took me an hour in the bed to think about how should i start it. i literally hope you guys enjoy the chapter hehe, and start to yk, notice the patterns and the parallels between your perspective and bruce's perspective bec ur literally his child, u guys share some habits even if u never once talked to him lmao. the most emotionally draining scene was writing the birthday scene, i had to take breaks from typing it out hehe. bruce's descent to yandere-ism isn't as quick as dick's but it would be worst in the next chapter.

also, i hope you guys are able to notice the bad habits that the reader eventually collects because it's important for the next chapters. it would be better if anyone of u could... point them out in my asks or comments, i love rambling about it yk, and a lot of you are absolutely brilliant in making theories that are absolutely right. anyways, i hope u enjoy this chapter because this was one hell of a ride for me and i appreciate all the reblogs and comments despite me not replying to a lot of yall but u guys truly are my motivation so thank u lots :(((<33!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa, @maicenitas, @ilovvmyhusband, @6uuyuuhgy, @plsfckmedxddy, @lavender-moony, @sweetheart-era, @chemicalsandghosts, @darling006, @starringyau, @rosecentury, @jaythes1mp, @pi1nkl0ver, @i-thirsty-boi, @sharks-r-cool-l, @silverklaus, @samanthathanes, @traumaramacenter, @maddimoon, @anxrq, @thedarknesslord, @h0rr0r-10ver-69, @lazy-idate, @googeecat44, @simpingfor-wakasa, @zvghfgn, @0patito0 (if i had forgotten to put any of u in a taglist please forgive me, it's hard to keep track !!)

[luveline]

𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐳, 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐝 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

Eddie has a staring problem that you barely notice, though you share an aching, awful crush. One of you has to bend first, and it’s not who you’d expect. fem, 5k 

ditzy-ish reader, pining eddie, mutual pining, confessions, first kisses, fluff and hugging, idiots in love, mild states of undress

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

It’s a day fit for a funeral in Hawkins. Rain hammers his bedroom window like hailstones, plinking against the frame, condensation running down the panes in thick rivulets he soaks up with an old t-shirt. 

It’s supposed to be spring time. Green grass, flowers, a gentle humming sun to warm the back of his neck while he sits out on the couch on the porch, a hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers, the tip shimmering with heat. 

But the rain pours. He’s cleaned his room for the first time in a month, at least, and his back aches in the best way as he lays down amongst fresh sheets. His room feels strange when it’s organised, but he doesn’t mind. He pictures the state of it through a second pair of eyes. This is a boy who cares about things, who takes care of them, who could take care of me, too. 

Rain again rackets on the metal roof above. He and Wayne keep a couple hundred bucks stashed for the day the roof flies straight off —they take turns hiding it, because cars break down and groceries get more expensive every year, but god will they need it, and so they safeguard it well. 

He syphoned a little of the money recently with Wayne’s support. It was for a good cause. 

“Jesus,” Eddie murmurs to himself, not tired but feeling dull as the clouds outside eat the remaining sun. 

It’s depressing to be poor, and to lose a day trying to hide the evidence of an entire life in a small room. He could sleep a hundred years. 

He’s just finished pulling the sheets over his shoulder when somebody knocks on the front door. Wayne opens it three rooms away, the sound of the rain doubled. 

He gives a startling shout, “Ed! Your girl!” 

Eddie topples out of bed. Doesn’t mean to, foot caught in the bottom of the sheets and stuck as he scrambles to slide out of the mess. He’s begged Wayne not to call you that when you’re within earshot, but Wayne’s a mean (kind) old bastard (middle aged dad) who wants Eddie dead (happy, and in love). 

“Come on in, girl. You’re soaking.” 

“It’s raining.” 

“It’s pouring down. Did you walk here?” 

“Took my bike. Thought I’d get struck by lightning in the car.” 

“How’d you figure?” 

Eddie goes to grab the door handle and spins on his heel, staggering onto his bed and up against the wall, where a mirrored tray once used by Dio himself for rolling hangs from the wall. He checks his face in the polished surface, his warped mouth and nose, too small eyes, and swears to himself that one day he’ll get a real mirror with a fully-functioning reflective surface. 

Then he hops down off of the bed, causing a reverberation he knows traverses the entirety of the trailer floor. Eddie snatches a rare clean towel from his laundry chair and speeds down the hall. 

“Hello,” he says, more casual than he feels to find you unexpectedly in his house. “You’re soaked.” 

You give a sweet smile. “It’s raining out, did you not know?” 

Your hair is dripping, water racing down the curves of your face to collect at your chin. Eddie can see the smudges of your makeup where it’s washing off as he wraps a towel around you, kohl on your cheeks, eyelashes turned to half-diamonds and sticky-looking. You grin at being covered, taking the towel from his fingers before he can dab you dry. 

“Why didn’t you just call me?”’

“I can never remember if your phone number ends in three or four.” 

“Seven. I wrote it down for you a hundred times.” 

You rub your eyes and spread all manner of glitter and shadow over your skin. You wipe your neck and the glitter spreads like an alien rash. 

When you talk next, you shiver, “I lost it a hundred times, sorry. Is it okay that I'm here?” 

Wayne, who’s been watching with a distinct sense of amusement from the couch, lets out a chesty laugh. “Honey, it’s always okay that you’re here on my account. And it’s my house.” 

“It’s fine.” Eddie turns your shoulder so he can mouth over it without being caught. Asshole. 

Another laugh follows. Eddie would cut each of his fingers from his hand and then his hand from his wrist if it were something Wayne needed him to do, but that doesn’t make him any less of an opportunistic asshole. If there’s a way to fuck with Eddie, he tends to try it. He loves Eddie with all the tenacity of a father who loves his son, but Wayne got infected with little bitch disease or something and Eddie can’t cure it. 

“Can I please wash my face? I didn’t expect to get soaked.” 

“Didn’t you?” He regrets his flippancy quickly, leading you down the hall. “You could take a shower. What do you think?” 

You’ve never showered here, but Eddie’s trying to, you know, date you. Romance you, get to cherish you, however anyone wants to say it. And it’s not a war of attrition, just a natural escalation of sharing, or a minimising of boundaries. 

No, that’s pervy, isn’t it? 

“I mean–” He starts to correct himself. 

You interrupt with your answer, “Yes, please, do you think I could? But I don’t have anything to wear.”

“I have your purple hoodie in my room, and there’s gotta be a pair of sweatpants here that fit you,” he says. 

They’ve got a whole bunch of clothes here that floated in from somewhere else, Eddie’s other friends or stuff they’ve bought by mistake. He’s sure he can find something.

“You have my hoodie?” you ask, black kohl spreading across the towel as you wipe your cheek. 

Eddie only smelled it one time. When he’d realised you left it in his van he brought it in and folded it, waiting for the next time he’d see you to give it back, but that night he’d been getting out of the shower wondering if he could call you or if that was too soon, and your hoodie had been right there. So he stood there in his pyjama pants with his wet hair and he didn’t think about picking your hoodie up, he just did, and when he pressed it to his face it still smelled of your perfume. 

He put it back and felt like a loser for days.

“It’s in my closet, you left it in the van Monday,” he explains quickly, nudging you through the doorway of the bathroom. 

The Munson bathroom is teeny tiny but not unnavigable. There’s a shower pressed to the far wall that could squeeze in two people, their toilet to the right, a sink basin opposite that with a medicine cabinet and just enough room for a dirty laundry box that’s always, always full. 

Eddie opens the shower and turns it on. “It takes a while to get really hot but then it’s not hot for long, sorry. There’s my shampoo if you want it, and soap, and body wash. Sorry, none of it is super girly.” 

“Sorry sorry,” you say, pretending to hit him in the stomach. “What’s with all the sorries, handsome? I can’t wait to smell like a boy.” 

The way you say it. Eddie doesn’t know what it is, but it’s why he’s crazy about you. 

Probably shouldn’t tell you that as you're taking off your jacket, though. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Eddie heads out of the bathroom to their skinny linen cabinet hidden in the hallway. He grabs the last two towels from the middle shelf and takes pause, fabric starchy in his hands. Just be normal, he thinks, a pep talk from Eddie to Eddie. She hangs out with you all the time for a reason. She held your hand at the movies. 

Eddie’s in better spirits when he remembers that. Your hand in his, your ring pushing his ring further down his finger, your cheek touching his shoulder as you’d leaned in and asked if he wanted some of your popcorn. 

He opens the door without thinking, shower pattering against the perspex wall, your legs crossing tightly as he enters, turning yourself away from him.

“Woah!” you say, laughing.

“Holy crap.” The image of your red underwear immediately stamps itself into his mind as he pulls the door shut between you. They were really cute, red and white gingham, showcasing just the slightest curve of your– “I told you I was coming back!” 

“I thought you’d knock!” you laugh. “Sorry I flashed you. At least I had my shirt on.” 

At least, he thinks wryly, shoving his arm through the gap in the door, heavy towels pulling at his fingers. His head’s about to snap off, it's turned so far away from the door’s opening. “Here.” 

“If you wanna see me naked so bad you can just ask,” you tease. 

“Take the towels, loser.” 

You take the towels and he closes the door, preventing any more accidental creeping, and giving himself a reprieve. Gingham underwear. Wavy lettuce edgings kissing your skin. 

Holy fuck. Being a person is so lame, Eddie thinks. He wants to have a crush on you purely, and yet seeing the way you’d crossed your legs to hide from him, smiling, he can’t not think about kissing you —touching you. If he doesn’t get you laid out in his bed soon for some slow kissing he’s not gonna make it.

Eddie opens the strip vent above his window and prays it doesn’t flood his whole room. Clean, it doesn’t look half bad, he could bring you in here respectfully, you could stay the night without fearing for your life. 

You take a quick shower. He’s barely gotten over his nerves when you’re walking into his room, a towel around you, not a hint of shyness about you. 

“You didn’t bring me anything to wear,” you explain. 

Eddie just stares at you. 

“Eddie?” You wrap the towel tighter. “Come on, you’re staring at me.”

“Sorry.” His mouth is bone dry. 

“You have my hoodie, right? Just need some pants.” You cross your arm tightly across your chest. “I don’t usually notice when people are staring at me.”

“You aren’t usually naked in my room,” he says, genuinely and embarrassingly apologetic. 

“I’m not naked. Come on, please? Do I have to wait outside the door?” you ask with a laugh. 

Eddie stands up. Shakes his head hard, almost trips over himself trying to get to his dresser. He decides honesty will be best at this point, lest you think he has only one thing on his mind, “Listen, I’m sorry. I’m just in my head about something and I wasn’t expecting you to come out like that. It’s not right. You’re just… you’re really pretty.” 

“Thank you.” He can’t see you, sorting quickly through his middle drawer and all his miscellaneous pants for a pair he’s sure would fit, if he could just remember where it was. “What are you in your head about?” 

“What?” 

“Eddie, are you okay?” 

“No, no,” he moans, rubbing his face with his hand, ring scratching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not okay, princess, I’m overheating or something, Jesus Christ.” He finally lays eyes on the sweatpants he’d been thinking of, grabs your hoodie from the top shelf and drops them both at the end of the bed. “I’ll give you some privacy.” 

“I don’t have any underwear.” 

“And that’s something I can’t fix,” he says, leaving the room in a hurry. 

Eddie gets to the living room and keels over. His hair falls in his face, his shirt slides down his back. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

Wayne, sliding his shoes on in the recliner, gives a start. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie lifts his head, yanking hair from his face, the skin of his under eyes pulled down harshly. “Oh my god.”

Wayne wrinkles his nose. 

“No ones ever been such a pathetic excuse for a man before,” Eddie says. 

“Your dad’s in jail,” Wayne points out. “And not for the impressive stuff.”

“I’m pathetic.” 

“You’re fine. You’re not supposed to be not pathetic, you’re twenty.” 

“I’m twenty one.” 

“The extra year doesn’t mean much. I know you think you’re all grown up, but you’re still an idiot.” 

Wayne stands and shrugs on the jacket laying over the armrest. 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“I thought you were definitely gonna ask her?” Wayne asks knowingly. That’s what Eddie told him, after all. “Next time I see her, Wayne, I’m asking her to go steady.” 

Eddie shakes his head. “You can’t leave.” 

“Eddie.” Wayne gestures for Eddie to stop slouching like some fiend from a bad horror. “Listen. I get that you’ve always been sort of… behind everyone, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do it. She likes you. She biked here in a hurricane.”

“What if she says no?” he asks. 

Truthfully, Eddie’s more scared of you saying yes. 

Wayne shrugs. “Girl like that’ll still be your friend after. It’ll be fine, okay? Do you need a hug before I go?” 

“No.” Eddie rubs his eyes some more, sore now from being touched. “Maybe.” 

Wayne crosses the room to give his shoulder a squeeze. “It will be fine. You’re great with rejection, Eds, but I have a good feeling about this one.” 

Eddie felt better about it, before he embarrassed himself staring at you. But Wayne’s right, even if Eddie’s read things wrong between you, he’s sure you’ll still want to be his friend. You and Eddie are the same kind of weird, though he’s more angry where you’re carefree. If everything goes wrong, you’ll probably just give an unnecessary apology and offer to braid his hair. Which will be torture, but Eddie’ll still say yes.

Wayne calls goodbye, and you shout, “Bye, Mr. Munson!” to which Wayne wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Get lost,” Eddie says. 

“Go make her a drink. I’ll see you later.” 

That’s not a bad idea. Eddie makes you a mix of orange and grapefruit juice with a couple of ice cubes and a plastic straw, your reaction predicted and then proved. 

“It’s a cocktail,” you say, pleased, sitting on the side of his bed. 

“It’s not a cocktail, just juice.” 

“Can I have some socks, please, Eddie?” 

Eddie passes you your drink, fingertips brushing. “Yeah. Anything else?” He pretends to be exhausted as he trudges back over to his dresser. 

You laugh and sip your drink. “No, I think you’re treating me quite well.” 

Eddie grabs a random pair and finally gets to sit down beside you, the dresser drawer left out, a spare sock fallen to the floor. You shuffle back into his pillows, propping your juice on his side table, and holding your hands out for the socks. Again, your fingertips touch his as he passes them to you. You seem to enjoy it, a smile lighting your face as you pull your knees up to put the socks on. 

“Thank you for waiting on me,” you say quietly. Not shyly, just quiet. 

“You’re welcome. Came all this way to see me, didn’t you?” He gives you a shove. You shuffle back further. “In the pouring rain.” 

“It felt important at the time.” 

“Yeah?” 

You get the socks on and don’t care about them once they're past your heels. Eddie does the honour of smoothing out the bands so that the elastic won’t dig into your skin, and when he’s done he can feel you looking at him heavily. You’re not one for continued eye contact, but you smile like you were waiting for it all day, like it’s a relief to see him. 

“Bad weather,” you say, slouching down. “I think I’m still wet on the inside.” 

“Gross,” Eddie says, pushing you over bodily to sit beside you. This isn’t new, he doesn’t need any nerves, and he’s grateful when they don’t come. “Here, I’ll pull the blanket over you.” 

“Can’t move,” you say, leaning back against the pillows.

Eddie stretches his legs out. You keep yours up, but you turn to his side, and before he can really make any sense of you, you’re dropping your face into his shoulder. 

“Are you still cold?” he asks, searching for the truth in your strange comment. 

You nod into his shoulder. “I’m freezing. The shower didn’t get very hot.” 

“Sorry,” he says, letting his cheek rest on your head. 

You lift your chin as he does it, his lashes pressed to your forehead, the two of you stuck together like two warped jigsaw pieces. You probably weren’t made to be together, but you make a nice picture, and you fit snugly now. That’s what Eddie thinks. 

This is the sort of moment that makes Eddie wanna ask you out. Maybe you’re just the best friend he’s ever had, but something about this closeness feels different. You wrap your arm around his stomach in a hug and he knows this is different. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, sighing as you shift downward into his side, getting comfortable. 

“Please don’t bike here in the rain. It’s, like, torrential. You could actually get sick.” 

You feel warm where your body presses against his, but Eddie doubts that’ll make a difference if the cold already made you sick. The bike ride from your place to his isn't short. He covers your arm with his and tries to be your space heater, cheek sliding over your forehead. 

“Eddie…” You hug him with tenderness. Eddie’s reluctant to say cuddle, but it’s close. “This might be a surprise to you, but I think it’s worth the rain and the cold to see you. Especially when you do this.” 

“What am I doing?” 

“You’re rubbing my arm.” 

He hadn’t noticed his hand caressing up and down your arm where it rests on his stomach. 

“You make me feel amazing,” you say, dropping your face into his chest. 

That’s his last straw. Eddie gets both arms around you and cuddles you (it’s a cuddle, okay! he’s a loser!) to him, arms tight but not cruel. All this fuss and you’re finally laying on top of him. He decides he won’t ask you after all. He’s not that brave, and he doesn’t want this to end. 

Your legs fall onto him. You relax completely. Even after you shower he can smell your perfume. 

“You smell nice,” he murmurs. 

“It’s on my hoodie,” you murmur back. 

Right. Eddie should remember. 

“You make everything smell like you.” Even his van keeps your scent most days. 

“Too much?” 

“The right amount,” he says firmly. 

You lay on his chest for a while, just breathing. Eddie rubs your back, tells himself he will ask, actually, because he can’t imagine not getting to do this again. You might even stay over. He could live hours of this. He didn’t know having you lay on him could make him feel like this. 

He can’t believe you’ve never done it before. 

Rain pounds the window. Condensation drips down onto the sill. You let your legs stretch out flat and then manoeuvre to be laying half atop him, hoodie riding up your back. 

“Any warmer now?” he asks.

“Yeah, you’re warming me up.” You lavish in his arms for a moment, and then lift your face. “Oh, this is a bad angle.” 

“For me or you?” 

“For me, duh.” 

Eddie doesn’t think you could have a bad angle. He rubs at your upper arm as you start to shift. “You know, your bike has just as big a chance of getting hit by lightning as your car does. More, probably.” 

“You think so?” 

“It’s physics. So, please don’t do it again.” 

You hum. “Hm, should I risk getting struck by lightning, or spend the evening without you?” you murmur, your arm moving, moving slowly, your hand resting gently on the column of his neck. There’s something ironic in your voice, wry, but your eyes are warm. He’s paralysed. No one has ever spoken to him like you. “I think I’d rather get struck by lightning.” 

You stare at one another. He laughs. You join in, your thumb a pressure at his neck, and when you move up his chest to lean in, he isn’t expecting it. 

“We’re very close together,” you whisper. 

“Super close,” he whispers back. 

“…Eddie, can I ask you something?” Your eyes slip shut, your lips so close that something in him aches, just enough wit about him to cup your shoulders in his forearm. 

“Yeah.” 

He doesn’t sound half as calm as you do. 

“Would you… Do you think we could be official? Would you want that?” You tilt your head to the side. “Is that stupid?” 

“Official?” he asks, panicked, his eyes squeezed shut hard enough for a moment that they ache.

“Like, you’d be my boyfriend. I’d be your girlfriend. We’d be close like this all the time.” 

Eddie panics so hard he just says the first thing that comes into his head, “Like, we’d kiss?” 

“I hope so,” you say, your nose pressing against his, the tip to the side of his, and then against his nostril. The heat of your breath is hard to ignore. “What do you think?” 

What does Eddie think about it? 

He catches your lips in a slow kiss. Achingly slow, not even sure it’s a kiss until you reciprocate, and your fingers dig behind his neck to tease his hair. Your lips part against his, the heat of your tongue sudden and undeniable —Eddie didn’t know you had it in you. He squeezes you to him, attempting to crane his neck downward, reliant on your enthusiasm as you move up, as you use his neck to pull yourself closer. 

Your noses crush together, and it actually hurts. “Sorry,” he says, easing you back, “you okay?” 

“‘Nother kiss,” you say hopefully, distractedly. 

He can’t not give it to you. 

Your hand spreads flat against his chest and you kiss, you kiss, long and slow movements against him before turning your head to take it again. Eddie doesn’t always know what to do with himself, but he knows kissing, no matter what anybody might think about him, and he takes the lead. 

His hand screws into a fist against your hoodie, the slip of your back further exposed as you shiver into his mouth, a sound you shouldn’t make sweet on his tongue. 

You pull away, breath on his lips. “Wanted you to kiss me for so long,” you murmur. 

Eddie knows you’re not saying it to flirt, and that makes it worse. 

“I should’ve kissed you a long time ago,” he says roughly. 

“You wanted to?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, so much, I’m a loser about you–”

“I’m always a loser,” you interrupt, “but especially about you.” 

You scratch your fingers through his hair, encouraging his head down for another kiss. This one rougher but not rough, his arm slips finally behind your head where he’d needed it to be, hooking you in his elbow to keep you in one place. To kiss you soundly, without interruption. Your almost feverish ebbing inward is a dream, your nose rubbing up against his is a fantasy. 

His heart hammers and hammers at his ribs. 

You pull away to let him breathe. “You’re very excited,” you tease lightly. 

Eddie kisses you, breathless. He kisses you so much he’s surprised you allow it, but your thumb rubs his cheek, and he knows he’d been right all along. You want him like he wants you, with startling, mildly pathetic urgency. 

He feels like a fucking prince. Girl of his dreams in his lap, everything he wants, and he didn’t even have to ask. 

—

Eddie spends a week in bliss. You’re suddenly everywhere, all the time, attached to his hip or some other part of him, and he forgets for seven whole days that he bought you a ring. 

The rain dries up, the Munson emergency fund lives to die another day, and he remembers the ring only minutes before you’re knocking at his door. 

He trips over himself trying to answer it before Wayne, who’s taken to being as painfully embarrassing as is possible for one human being, can get it for him. 

“One day you’re gonna eat shit and break your nose,” Wayne says. 

Eddie yanks open the door. “Yeah, thanks. Hey, beautiful, what’s with the sunglasses?” 

You slide them down your nose. You’re a vision on his front step, not that you’d ever notice your own intrigue. “The sunglasses?” you ask, tucking them away. “What do you think they’re for? Three guesses.” 

He grabs your waist, leaning down out of the doorway so as to save Wayne the agony. “That’s smart,” he says, kissing you quickly in hello. “You’re funny. Need anything before we go?” 

“No, I’m okay. Hi, Mr. Munson!” you add.

“Hey, honey! How are you?” Wayne calls.

You look up into Eddie’s face with an obvious delight. “I’ve never been better.” 

Eddie grins back. 

He waves a quick goodbye to Wayne and then he’s out the door. You grab his wrist and practically dance him to the car, where you offer your keys, and he deigns to drive. From there it’s smooth sailing, familiarity with a better twist, Eddie driving with the windows down and your hands twined on your thigh. Things haven’t changed much since you asked him to go steady, there’s just a whole lot more of this. Touching, kissing, no weird guilt about staring. 

As it turns out, you’re as eager to be laid out in his bed as he is to lay you out. He’s never wanted to kiss you more, and now he’s allowed. 

“Eyes on the road.” 

He leans over to kiss your cheek. The sun has warmed your skin, and his kiss makes you smile. You look pretty no matter the weather. 

“Before we get there, I have something to give you.” He takes his hand from yours to slide the box from his pocket. He holds it up. “But you can only have it if you swear you’ll call me tonight before bed. No excuses. You know exactly what number to call.” 

“Ends with a three,” you say, nodding. 

He sighs. “No, it does not.” 

“I’m kidding! Two one nine seven, I have now committed it to memory.” 

Eddie pays attention to the road, though it’s clear and long heading out of the trailer park and into town. “That deserves a gift.” 

You’re back in your glitters today, a skirt to enjoy the fine weather, a button shirt with a cute triangle collar, you’re lovely as ever, if a tad much for some. Not Eddie. He loves the dark clothes, the tinkling bracelets, the fun way you smile like everything he says is a secret between him and you. People stare wherever you and Eddie go, but as long your arm is sewn through his he couldn’t care less. 

“A gift,” you say, smiling in your way, and taking the box politely. “I don’t think I deserve it for just remembering your number.” 

“You deserved it for less. It’s not much. You can pay me back in three or four amazing kisses. Right here.” He points to the tight juncture beneath his jaw. 

You attempt to lean over and kiss him immediately. He pushes you back, laughing, worsened by your own breathless laughter as you steal one exactly where he’d tapped. 

You settle back down, Eddie’s hand dropping kindly to your knee. “I wonder what it is,” you say. 

“Then open it.” 

“I am!” You pop the box open, it’s springing hinge snapping into place. “Oh, woah. Woah. Where did you get this?” 

It’s a slim ring, with a weirdly shaped band of quality metal around some cheaper but not totally worthless gemstones, of which there are three different colours: a topaz orange, a lime green, and a pinky-red ruby colour centre stage. They have nice cuts. It’s strange as you are, and he knew when he saw it you’d have to have it. 

“If I put it on my marriage finger, are we engaged?” you tease. 

“That one would be way heavier,” he says, giving you a squeeze. 

You slide it onto your middle finger and hold your hand up in the sunshine. It fits in with your other ring nicely, though it is, to Eddie’s pride, far prettier. 

He has half a mind to pull over and kiss each knuckle, but he’s trying to be less dramatic about you. It’s not working. 

“Thank you, Eddie. I love it.” 

“Best boyfriend ever?” he asks hopefully. 

To his mild fear but better pleasure, you climb up onto the console to press three quick kisses to his cheek and jaw, your hand under his ear holding him in tender place. “Best boyfriend ever. Even if you stare too much.” 

“How am I supposed to not?” he asks, with more weight than he’s intended. 

You speak matter of factly for the first time in your life. “I am going to cause an accident,” you promise, attempting to kiss his nose. “A bad one.” 

“Sit down, please.” He lets you kiss his nose, and then jabs you in the side. “Sit down, oh my god! That’s not funny, you’re so pretty I will total your car.” 

“Now who’s not funny?” 

You both laugh at the same time, the unfiltered, un-cute cackling of two idiots with the same sense of humour, and the same wealth of ridiculous honeymoon love. 

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. if you did, please consider reblogging or commenting!! thanks very much <3

[cvnt4him]

hii!! im the anon that requested that hyperspermia drabble <3!!

imagine izuku giving you backshots for the first time and he’s so memorized by your ass jiggling he has to give it a little smack and have his big scarred hands on your low back, pushing arching you more so he can do deeper and see it jiggle more 😵‍💫😵‍💫

bonus points is if he’s a absolute mess while doing it, his hips just losing rhythm because feeling you jiggle against his pelvis, his ball slapping your sensitive clit and how much your squeezing him, he’s losing his fucking mind 🙂‍↕️

(p.s, your now one of my favorite izuku writers <3)

- 🩸

I am so glad I'm one of your faves<3 it means far too much to me than you may think, you've simply become one of my fav anons just from the two reqs you've sent in; THEY'RE JS SO GOOD

Izuku loves having sex with you, it's such a heartfelt and beautiful thing. He truly believes when you're having sex it's not just something you're doing to chase after pure lust; it's a bonding ritual. Seriously, he takes this type of thing too seriously. Never to the point that it's unenjoyable because trust, he puts your pleasure first at all times.

Izuku just really thinks it's deeper than just feeling good. I mean he's literally entering your body, that has to mean something spiritually maybe, right?

However just because izuku thinks that way sometimes doesnt mean he has urges. Of course he does, he has the worlds most sensitive body and he can't help getting turned on when you so much as touch his neck.

He tried to hold off on them sometimes because he understands nourishing relationships is key to having long lasting ones, he doesn't want to scare you off with the consistency of sex.. but he just can't seem to help himself.

That's how you ended up on all fours head thrown back and ass throwing back against your boyfriend. Izuku loses himself in your cunt pretty fastly, he's been thrusting into you with hard thrusts of his thick cock harshly. His hands held your shoulders at first and he had his eyes squeezed shut from the very beginning, he knew he needed this.

His thrusts were quick and filled with need, he lets his eyes drape open slightly just to see how you were doing; y'know check up on you. It was never his intention to get hypnotized by the jiggles of your ass every time his pelvis met it. He got so fixated on it trying to speed up his thrusts to see it jiggle more, it got him off far more than he expected he couldn't take his eyes away.

Mumbling low groans and helpless moans, he squeezed the flesh on your ass causing you to moan biting your lips with a smile and small giggle, you slowed your body and gently ground your ass against his pelvis as he tried to continue jerking his hips into you, it got quite unrhythmic and unsteady he couldn't help whining at the lack of feeling from you only grinding.

Izuku was quick to try and have you bouncing on his cock again, he rubbed your lower back before harshly pushing you down into the pillows by your head causing a low sound to leave your mouth.

“, mmph-!”

“, ’m so sorry baby, ‘m sorry..— hafta, need t’ take it.”

He started his movements up again, harsh quick and full of need and greed. Izuku couldn't contain the noises he tried to keep in to assure that he could hear you anymore. He let them all glow out freely as he quickly began losing himself more and more at the feel of your pussy squeezing him like a vice, the way you convulsed and twitched around his achingly hard cock, it sucked him in like it didn't want to let him go and that's all he could wrap his head around his eyes never leaving the repeated jiggle of your ass snd the faster his movements got the faster they got.

The way you arched your back into him your ass basically throwing itself on his dick had his mind spinning. With a groaned he couldn't help keeping his hands in your body letting them roam all over your moving body squeezing whatever he could that was there but he needed your ass.

Izuku was quick to let his deepest urges take over as he let a harsh slap fall onto your ass causing your body to jerk forward and a squeak to leave; he loved that. It's as if you tried to get away when it landed but arched deeper into him after. He wasn't a bad guy for doing it again right?

Your ass was red by the time he finished, chasing his own orgasm as he jerks his hips into yours. He still can't wrap his mind around everything your cunt gripping him tightly as he chokes on his breath, stuttering hips slamming into you at an unsteady pace causing him to nearly lose himself. He tried so hard to hold out for you; assure that you had a good time but you just had to speak when his mind was already turned to mush,

“, cum f’me zuku? cum inside’a me...?”

Your voice pitchy and quite whiney as well, it sounded more like a question and that's what turned him on so more, brought him closer to the edge. with a gutteral and broken moan he emptied his still jerking balls inside of you, his cum filling you literally completely. His cock was so sensitive and you were still tightening around it while he was cumming, literally milking his cock for all it was worth; and boy was it worth alot.

You could feel his milky cum reach your deepest depths, it felt as if it extinguished a fire that was inside, it made you hum out a sigh and gently throw your hips back against him, his hips stuttered inside of you causing him to moan loudly at the overstimulation.

Upon cleaning yourself up izuku ends up apologizing, in the moment he couldn't really think about anything else other than your ass he completely forgot about making you cum.

“ I'm so so so sorry, I'm so selfish I don't deserve you— please don't hate me, I can make it up to you!”

Little did he know you came a couple of times, when he loses his mind he loses his composure and will to hold back as well he gets quite rough and completely throws everything out the window. You end up telling him how the ass smacking really turned you on and he turned so red silently asking you if you wanted him to do it more often.

Something tells you this won't be the last time you have good sex; because it's always good. lol

AN: this was a little different and honestly kind of difficult but it was so amazing, I hope it lives up to your standards I wrote this in one sitting bc I was so fixated on it, I've never been in such a vibe holy hell

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: light angst/all smut, some possessiveness/jealousy, breeding, mind-break, overstimulation, squirting, pussy slapping, begging, double and hints of triple penetration (satoru's clones, listen i know you need to do things to get the clone but I don't care they are just going to appear because smut and I'm horny), fingering your ass, edging, begging, teasing, daddy/mama/princess/sweetheart etc...., hints at breeding, toji holds you up and fucks you like a cock sleeve, choking, stoner!suguru, shotgunning, some grinding, groping, kissing, semi-outdoor/car sex

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: god I missed your cock with toru!

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Folding you in half, pinning the back of your knees by your sides. Admiring your soaking wet, tight cunt stretching to take his pale pink cockhead. Closing your eyes, biting your bottom lip, muffling your cries.

Gliding his cock out, the soft ridge line of his head tugging on your cunt. Slapping your plush lips and sensitive clit. "Look at me, sweetheart! Who am I?" Rolling your eyes at him.

"My annoying slightly handsome ex?" Your empty cunt clenching when he slaps his long, veiny cock.

"Wrong answer!" He groans at the slick sound of gliding his head between your plush wet lips. "Guess you don't need my cock that badly." Avoiding your clit, nudging half his head past your lips. Swirling his head at your soaking wet, clenching hole.

Pushing your hips down, Satoru pulls away. "No! I mean yes. I mean, I didn't need it before. If you won't, then I'll call Ky-" You can't finish the word before he stuffs two fingers past your lips. Pinching your tongue. A second Satoru looms over you.

Clone Toru lets your tongue go once you whine. He smirks crooning, "Why do you look surprised, my love?” Satoru flips you over by your legs, grabbing your hips and lifting them up. Grabbing the previously forgotten lube nearby.

'my love' the words replay in your mind, soaking your cunt and tugging on your heart. Bitting your lip refusing to let the 'i love you too' slip out. After all the work to try and forget him, crumbling in one night around him.

Satoru generously pours lube on your other hole. Smearing it in small circles, with his thick pointer fingers. Both holes clench from the anticipation. “I'm offended after all the times you begged for me to fill up every little, sloppy wet hole.” Toru grabs your hair, lifting your head up, stroking his head. Smearing his pre-cum with his thumb.

Moaning when Satoru glides his finger in, spreading the lube with each pump. “It’s been almost two years!" He swipes his cock head between your plush lips, squeezing your cheek with his finger in your ass. Satoru rocks his hips forward, Toru stuffs your mouth the second you moan.

Fingering your ass at the same pace he fucks your tight sloppy wet cunt. "So fuckin' warm, sweetheart." He roughly slaps your other cheek. Crying around Toru's cock, he pushes your head down, your cunt clenching as you gag.

Toru groans, "It doesn't matter who you fuck, you had me, sweetheart." Picking his pace up, his balls hitting your chin. Letting go of your hair, grabbing your neck, choking you. Both of your holes clenching from the pleasurable pain of the restriction whilst getting roughly face fucked.

Satoru groans, "I'll always be the best you've ever had. Tell me I'm wrong." Gliding another finger into your ass. It feels too good to have his thick fingers stretching, filling you up. As he pounds your sloppy wet cunt loose.

Your mind is going blank from getting sandwiched between two Satorus. "You're going to take another cock in this pretty little hole till I stuff every hole full of cum." You're losing your reservations towards him.

Whining the second Toru slips his cock out of your mouth, loosening his grasp on your neck. "God I missed your cocks!" Sticking your tongue out wanting him to fuck your mouth for your and his pleasure. Toru slaps his cock on your tongue.

"I know you did, that's why we couldn't stay away." Satoru pulls away, grabbing your neck to pull you back. Another Satoru appears before your eyes next to the first clone. Ru lays down, "You're going to take all three of me like you used to."

You want to pretend Satoru is your’s again. That you never left. Satoru loosens his grasp on your neck. "I'm your’s." Satoru pushes your chin up with his thumb, passionately kissing you with a loud groan. Wrapping his arm around your waist, shifting you to straddle his clone.

Ru's warm, cock into you. "All fuckin' mine, say it again. I need to hear it." Satoru lines his cock up with your asshole. Groaning from the pleasurable stretch into Satoru's mouth.

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

You're blaming the drinks Toji bought you for the hot tingly soaking wetness of your cunt. It's not him, with his large macular body pinning you to the bed. Making you feel so small and powerless beneath him, nothing but a beautiful fuck toy for his cock.

You don't care how you've missed the shade of forest green Toji's eyes are. Old feelings aren't stirring up after he stares deep into your eyes. Switching between memorizing the way your soaking wet cunt stretches for fat, veiny cock and your cock drunk expression.

Reminding him, "This means nothing. We aren't talking after this." You can feel every puffy vein, the softness of his skin rubbing your soft, wet cunt. Clenching him, your eyes rolling back and toes curling from how hard Toji is.

You're going to cum when Toji stops moving. Pinching your clit, jerking your hips back into the blankets, crying. He points out, “Sounds like you're reminding yourself. You know you missed me mama. You didn't have to bring me home with ya." Stroking your clit, easing the pain with pleasure. Sliding his cock out till his fat head is tugging on your tight cunt.

He splays his fingers on your stomach, pinning you down. “Don't see why I did, when you're not letting me cummmm!” Toji grabs the headboard, using his size and strength to roughly glide his cock into your dripping cunt.

The venom in your voice softens into a needy moan. “You’re-nnnnannnn asshole.” Grabbing a fistful of his black hair to tug on it. He looks too beautiful moaning, his eyes fluttering shut his jaw dropping. His pussy drunk expression getting you off.

“I am sweetheart, I’m n' asshole for leaving both of ya. Biggest fuckin’ mistake was letting ya go.” You can't give in to him again. This is just lip service, but why when he's already in you.

It's already too much getting underneath him, taking his fat, veiny cock. You couldn't open your heart to him again. Whining, “Don’t say that." Letting your headboard go, grabbing your neck loosely, leaning down roughly kissing you.

Biting your bottom lip, making it tingle. “Can't help it doll, I'm inside ya but it's not enough I miss ya so badly. Miss see ya in the morning, coming home to ya, hearing your voice. Can't forget how beautiful you look with your belly swelling, your tits dripping milk." Your soaking wet cunt clenching Toji's veiny cock.

You're clamping down on his cock feeling every vein too acutely. You can't think straight, you can only fixate on how hard his cock is. Your toes curling, your tight trembling your cunt dripping down your cheeks. Your resolve crumbles.

Toji's former title slips off so easily, "Please Daddy don't stop! Oh god, daddy please m' so close! Oh god I missed your cock!" You're so close, the pressure in your gut is about to burst. Desperately you want to cum on Toji's cock.

Toji groans, the deep rough sound pushing you over the edge. "Aw my mama so worked up she's cumming after a few strokes. Good girl, make a mess of your daddy's cock" He grabs your neck and hip, pulling you off the bed. Holding you up right, bouncing you on his cock with ease.

Wrapping your arm around his shoulders digging in your nails. Giving up on thinking about anything else but being Toji's fuck toy. He loosens his grasp around your neck. "That's it nnnn! Daaadddy fuck me, use your cunt! Nnn you're so big stretching my pussy out, reachin' so deep. Nnnn." Sliding your hand down his thick arm, squeezing his hard muscular bicep.

Sliding your hand down his thick chest, his tits jiggle with each thrust. Squeezing one and biting down unable to resist. Toji croons, "You like how big daddy is? Huh let me hear it otherwise I won't cum in you." All you have to ground yourself and hold onto is Toji.

"I missed your dirty mouth talking about my big cock. Callin' me daddy makin' me want to make you a mama, oh wait I did." Whining, wrapping your legs around his waist, not wanting him to pull away. The one thing your mind can focus on is his thick cum.

Toji roughly grunts, "You're all fuckin' mine." Squeezing your throat tightly, rocking you faster on his cock. His navel brushing your sensitive, puffy clit. You're too close to cumming, and so quickly. You're so powerless in his hands, getting fucked by Toji like he owns your pussy.

Your body is tingling and going limp when he lets go. Holding you close to him by your neck. The second you can breath steadily you beg, "I'm your beautiful baby mama. Wanna feel you cum in me, please daddy. It's been so long, missed feeling your fat puffy veins pulse right before you fill me up."

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

Suguru's large, warm hand hasn't left your thigh, sliding higher. Getting closer to your cunt soaking through your underwear. Pressing your thighs together trapping his hand. Taking your gaze off the full moon and stars above to study Suguru’s beautiful side profile.

He breathes in the last hit off the blunt, squeezing your thigh. Shifting your hips, his pinkie brushing your clothed cunt. Suguru leans in for a kiss, parting your lips, bitter smoke drifts into your mouth.

He pulls away too soon, snuffing out the blunt in the ashtray he bought. "Takin' me out here, smokin' with me under the stars." Straddling his hips. Suguru glides his hand underneath your shirt. "Seems like you're trying something." Rocking your hips, grinding your clothed, soaking wet cunt on his covered, hard cock.

He fondles your cheek, slipping his hand up your shirt. Closing your eyes, savoring the pleasure of Suguru feeling you up. His large warm hands, "I'm trying to see if we can make us work again. I've been getting help, doing better and I'm so fuckin' sorry I hurt you." Your eyes sting with tears you blink away.

"You're the best person I could have ever had the chance of being with. I miss you, want to be anything you'll let me be." Gliding your fingers into his soft dark hair, half up and down, pulling him in for another passionate kiss.

You've been in denial about how much miss the softness and shape of Suguru's lips. He parts his lip for you to slip your tongue past. Moaning into his mouth. There's a deep-seated longing in his needy groans, your moans, and the desperate way he holds onto you.

No one else feels so right to kiss, hump, and grope. Breaking away, his harsh words ring in the back of your head. Could you really start again, without him pushing you away? You couldn't fully take the step so quickly. "We can be friends with benefits, hang out and cuddle fuck a few times." His handsome face catches the full moon's light.

Kissing down Suguru's well-defined jawline. He wonders, "Do those benefits include going on dates?" He tugs on your shirt, pulling your arms up for Suguru to slip your shirt off. Tossing your shirt aside, you help Suguru make quick work of his shirt.

He's bigger since you last saw him. Thicker pecs, sharply defined abs, and brawny, muscular arms. "Sometimes, we can go on a casual date. Nothing fancy or serious." Dragging a finger down between his pecs. Tracing your finger underneath Suguru's left thick pec.

Suguru squeezes your hips, "More dates like these then? Just two friends fuckin' around in the woods." Standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You undo the bun in his hair, sliding your fingers through his silky hair. Once by his shoulders now meeting the middle of his back.

"Catching up, getting high, and staring at the stars isn't too bad of a way to pass time." Climbing onto the mattress in the back of his remodeled van. He leans over, laying you down with your head on a pillow. He grabs your skirt, tugging it off with your underwear tossing it to the side.

Spreading your legs groaning when he sees your soaking wet cunt clench. Spreading your lips apart, "Next time we can get a little kinker with it and I can hunt you down. When I win." Suguru glides a thick finger into you, "I'll fuck you till you squirt." Finding your g-spot in seconds. Rubbing your puffy, sensitive clit with his thumb.

You whine, "Don't tease me, please I want you so badly. God I missed your cock and how you touch n' kiss me." Your cries turn to begging, "Daddy let me suck you off if you're going to eat me out. I'll sit on your handsome face, gag myself with your cock n' massage your balls." He glides his finger out, licking it clean.

He climbs out of the van, partly pushing his cozy-looking baggy sweats down. "You missed what now?" Giving you a small glimpse of the bottom of his hard cock. The two thick veins on the top are making your mouth water. You want to suck his cock, and fondle his balls.

Crawling towards him, pushing his sweats down, grabbing his heavy cock. Your eyes widen, and you remember Suguru was big. But damn your memory didn't do him justice. using both your hands. "I remember but forgot big you are, hottest fuckin' cock," cupping his ball sack, fondling him. "I missed how you stretch out my cunt." Kissing his head, he groans, rutting his hips forward, his thick thighs flexing.

"I've missed how good you taste, want you to sit on my face and smother me." Smearing his pre cum around looking at him in his warm brown eyes. Letting him go, enjoying the soft plop of his heavy cock falling onto his balls.

He steps out of his sweats and climbs onto the bed. Fixing his hair so you won't kneel on it. In those few seconds, you can't leave him alone. Gliding your hands over his hard abs, picking up his cock and taking him deep into your mouth.

Suguru's breathy loud groan of your name makes your cunt drip down your thighs. He sounds so beautiful it's almost a pity you have to smother him with your pussy.

strawberry brat all works

[urdreamydoodles]

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson

I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!

Tony Stark

- When you’re angry with Tony, he’s a little stunned. He’s used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tony’s mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problem—but not with you. You mean too much to him, and he can’t stand the idea of pushing you further away.

- He doesn’t immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. He’ll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping you’ll crack a smile. When that doesn’t work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, “This is why I avoid real feelings, you know?” as he fumbles through an apology. He’s not used to admitting fault, but with you, he’s learning to swallow his pride.

- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. He’ll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gesture—a private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech he’s been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit he’s bought just for the occasion. He’s not subtle, and he knows it, but he’ll do anything if it means a smile from you.

- When the big gestures don’t work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe it’s a handwritten letter he’s scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things aren’t okay between you two. It’s raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that he’s willing to put the ego aside for you.

- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesn’t let go. He’ll joke that he’s not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about “testing his limits,” but there’s something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and he’s willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tony’s found a softness he didn’t know he had, and he’s not going to risk losing it.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers doesn’t like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes you’re angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it won’t escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe it’s too soon. Steve’s patient, though; he’ll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.

- While you’re cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. He’s his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. He’ll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. He’s willing to bend if it’s what’s needed to bridge the gap between you.

- When he approaches you again, he’s soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justifications—just him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises he’ll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.

- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book you’re reading. Steve understands that sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. He’ll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.

- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and he’s fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha doesn’t like it when things are off between you two, but she’s used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesn’t care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But you’re different. You’re not just anyone; you’re someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.

- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, “Are we good?” as if it’s not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. She’s not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. It’s clear she’s trying, even if she doesn’t always have the words.

- To make it up to you, Natasha doesn’t go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. She’ll take you to a place she loves—a quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden café she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. She’s careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, she’s letting you know how much she values you.

- Natasha doesn’t usually do comfort, but she’ll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe she’ll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows you’ve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesn’t always show it. Little by little, she’ll find ways to let you know that she’s there, committed to making things right.

- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. She’s not big on words, but she’ll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natasha’s fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, she’s even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. She’ll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.

Bruce Banner

- When you’re angry with Bruce, he’s instantly anxious, worried he’s done something terribly wrong. Conflict isn’t his strong suit, and he’s painfully aware of his capacity for anger. He’s cautious, almost timid, when he realizes you’re upset, giving you space and time. He doesn’t want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.

- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if he’s ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though he’s scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that he’s willing to work through whatever the issue is.

- When he finally comes to you, Bruce’s apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. He’ll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and there’s an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. He’s not perfect, but he’s open to listening and doing better.

- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so he’ll show up with something that reflects his feelings for you—maybe a small book he thinks you’d love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. He’s shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but it’s his way of showing he cares.

- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. He’s careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, “You’re way too patient with me,” but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.

Clint Barton

- When Clint realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He can’t believe he’s managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. He’ll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he’s got some work to do.

- Clint’s never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, he’ll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. He’ll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers others’ feelings the way he should. It’s a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.

- Once he’s apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. He’ll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and he’s shameless about using it if it means making things right. He’s determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.

- When his jokes don’t quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. He’s a guy who pays attention to the little things, so he’ll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that it’s the small gestures that can speak volumes.

- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everything’s back to normal. He’ll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesn’t take his relationships for granted, and he’s grateful you’re in his life, even when he messes up.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky’s heart sinks when he sees that you’re angry. He’s used to pushing people away, and now that he’s got you, he’s terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Bucky’s first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you. He’ll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.

- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, he’s hesitant, nervous, almost as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. He’s used to running, and being with you is the first time he’s tried not to.

- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. He’s nervous about whether it’ll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.

- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. He’ll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that he’s there, without needing to say much, because he’s always believed that actions speak louder than words.

- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. He’s more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if he’s afraid to let go. He knows he doesn’t have many people he can count on, but he’s grateful that he can count on you. Bucky’s still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.

Sam Wilson

- Sam immediately notices when you’re angry, and his first instinct is to find out what’s going on. He’s straightforward and doesn’t like tension hanging in the air, so he’ll ask, “Alright, what did I do?” in his calm, genuine way, hoping you’ll be willing to talk it out. He’s good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.

- Sam listens intently when you explain what’s bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. He’s respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where you’re coming from. He’s not the type to dodge blame; if he’s at fault, he’ll own up to it right away. There’s no defensiveness, no excuses—just an honest desire to make things right.

- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outing—something where the two of you can connect and have fun. He’s all about shared experiences, so maybe it’s a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure he’s planned just for you. He’s careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.

- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. He’ll look you in the eyes and say something like, “I don’t like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.” He’s genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.

- Once everything’s back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure you’re laughing and relaxed. He’s always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Sam’s presence is solid, reassuring, and he’ll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.

Peter Parker (Tom H.)

- Peter’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows what’s going on, hoping you’ll give him a chance to explain.

- When you tell him what’s bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. He’s genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. He’s never been great at handling relationship tension, but he’ll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.

- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. He’ll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtful—perhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. He’s earnest, a little shy about it, hoping you’ll see how much effort he’s putting in.

- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows he’s a bit of a dork, but he doesn’t mind if it means cheering you up. Peter’s all about making you feel comfortable and loved.

- When you finally forgive him, Peter’s face lights up with relief. He’ll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how he’s “the luckiest person in the world” to have someone like you. He’s young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that you’re not mad anymore. To Peter, you’re his world, and he’ll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.

Stephen Strange

- When Stephen realizes you’re angry with him, he’s a bit taken aback. He’s used to being right and doesn’t often see things from others’ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.

- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. He’s intelligent and analytical, but that doesn’t always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that he’s not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.

- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.

- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but he’s willing to try if it means keeping you close. He’ll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.

- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, “Guess I need to work on my bedside manner,” but there’s genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows he’s lucky to have you, and he’s determined to keep learning how to love you better.

Thor Odinson

- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s naturally cheerful and doesn’t take most things too seriously, so the idea that he’s done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.

- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s not one to overthink things, but he’s deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. He’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. He’ll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or he’ll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.

- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. He’s genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what he’s learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but it’s all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.

- When you finally forgive him, Thor’s smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. There’s nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and he’s not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that he’ll try to be a little more mindful in the future.

[thewritergx]

Gentle Torture: Dbf!JoelxF!Reader

Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Joel Miller loses every ounce of restraint when a high school senior moves in next door. Pre-Outbreak

Warnings: Smut: Age Gap (Joel in his late 30s, reader starts out at 18), Dbf!Joel, Fingering, Kissing. Curse words, Drinking, Party.

Word Count: 4.5 K

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

I have been obsessed with the dbf trope lately. This story is very much inspired by @pearlessance. Please go check her out.

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me

Joel Miller could not believe all the choices he made in life had led him…here. Standing above you, your legs sprawled out, pussy wet and glistening for him. He hated where he was right now. He hated that he loved it so much, watching as you quivered at his touch. Hated that he craved you every goddamn waking hour of his life. He fucking hated you for being so innocent, so irresistible. It was a gentle torture, something he never experienced in his thirty plus years of life.

By all accounts, he was a good man. Sure, he had been arrested a few times as a teenager, won (and lost) some bar fights, and broke a few women's hearts. That did not make him a bad man, at least he had hoped not. He had made an honest, decent life. He had flaws like any other man, but he knew deep down he would die for those he loved, no questions asked. That had to count for something.

He was sure he was a good man, but when Joel laid his head to sleep at night, his mind always led him down that bad bad place. He closed his eyes and flashes of you in perfect little bikinis, tight crop tops (the ones where your nipples set perfectly visible and erect for everyone to see), and those tiny denim shorts tortured his mind. Thoughts of you had plagued him, clouding his mind and hardening his cock over and over again for months. 

It had not started out this way, not in the slightest. Over a year ago, you and your father, David, had moved in next door. At first, he had not paid much attention to the new additions next door. Sure, he introduced himself, shaking your father’s hand and giving you a light smile and wave. But there was not much interaction after that. Not until some remodeling was needed on your home. Joel being a construction worker was obviously convenient for your father. David had never been much of a handyman himself, so Joel was the first person he came to for help. 

“Your dad says you want to paint your room?” was the first sentence Joel had actually spoken to you, his voice smooth and raspy all at the same time. It sent chills through you, an innocent crush on the older man already forming. The two of you stood in the empty bedroom, all your things moved temporarily into the living room. 

“I was thinking something dark, maybe a forest green”, was all you responded, holding out a stack of paint cards you picked up from Home Depot. Joel took them lightly in his hand, his fingers brushing against yours. It was enough to wake every nerve in your body. You hoped the hot blush on your cheeks was not too obvious.

“This one. The sun would wash out the rest”. Joel held up a card to the wall, Vermont green. You nodded in agreement. It was your favorite too. Joel couldn’t help but notice how small you were next to him, your frame drowned in his as he stood firmly still next to you. 

“So you're starting a new school. It must be hard being a senior in a new place.” 

You nodded again, carefully lining tape at the base of the walls like Joel had shown you moments before. “Yeah, especially with the year being halfway over. But I’ll manage.” 

Joel relaxed at the sound of your soft voice. It was so refreshing, happy, and full of youthfulness. “Got any plans for college? Ya’ seem smart” Joel asked, lining the floor with a thin plastic material. 

“I’ve actually got my license for cosmetology already. I'm trying to find a shop right now, but it’s hard being new to the area and still being in school.” 

Joel nodded, taking notice of how soft and bouncy your hair looked. Perfect curls stop just under your shoulder blade. Perfect for him to grab onto while you sit on all fours, ass up and face down for him. He quickly shook the thought away, cursing himself for even being alone in a room with you. What had gotten into him?

As the year went on, Joel and your father started hanging out more and more. A familiar boyish relationship formed between them and now they seemed, for the most part, inseparable. Joel spent weekend after weekend in the backyard of your house, cooking steaks, hotdogs, and hamburgers. You had graduated and were home all the time in the summer. He always tried to ignore the way your perfect little ass bounced with every step you took towards the pool, you bikini bottoms ridding up, hardly covering anything and a red popsicle sitting between your plump pink lips. He had never been jealous of a popsicle before. It made him angry, hot all over. He recalled days he accidentally burnt the meat on the grill, too dazed out at the thought of you to pay any mind to food. He was starved, but never for what he was cooking. 

Joel always cursed himself after, hating how much he wanted to destroy your innocence. He made it his mission to be as friendly as he could while still keeping his distance from you. He never sat in chairs next to you, never hugged you, never even gave you a high five. But he would offer you smiles, ask how school was going, and help you with math if you ever needed it. He hoped this was enough to stop the involuntary twitch in his cock every time he saw you.

It never was. 

You, on the other hand, were always trying to get closer. You never needed help painting, and you definitely never needed help with math. In fact, it was one of your best subjects. On days you knew Joel would be over, you would dress a bit lighter, show a touch more skin. Enough that he could imagine, but not enough for your father to notice anything was up. You were not always sure if it worked, but you swore some days you could feel Joel’s eyes linger on you like a lion stalks its prey. Other days, it felt like he was disgusted by you. Only saying a short ‘hey’ and then practically running as far opposite from you as he could. It was so frustrating. You were eighteen, not a child. You knew you could handle him, knew you could take him. 

Today was not a good day to tempt Joel. He had woken up yearning, his skin on fire for you. He had done his best to stay away from your house for the day, taking a cold shower and trying to focus on anything other than the eighteen-year-old girl next door. But you had other plans, knocking steadfastly on his door. 

Joel startled at the light bangs, pacing towards the window and reluctantly moving the blinds. He watched as you stood on his front steps, a sweet smile on your face. God, what did you want?

Joel opened the door hesitantly, looming in the door frame. “Hey, what’s up sweetheart?” He asked, forcing a casual tone from his clenched jaw.

“Did you forget…You’re supposed to be cooking for my dad’s party. He’s gonna be pissed if people show up and there’s nothing to eat.” You spoke, a hand laid lightly on your hip. You wore a light blue sundress, the material flowy and hugging your waist like it was handcrafted for only you.

A strap from a black bra poked through the thin top of the dress, causing a silent groan and a string of curses to raddle his brain.

“Goddamn it, fuck! I fuckin’ forgot. Just come in…” Joel cursed, slapping his forehead and dragging it down his face. 

“You look like shit,” you laughed, taking a long glance as you gently stepped inside the living room. A worn-down couch and loveseat sat in the center of the room, a glass table between them. The walls were boring beige, to be expected. 

“I d-didn’t sleep good…that’s all”, Joel groaned across the room, slamming down two pills. His head was fucking killing him. He rushed around the kitchen, pulling spices and items from the fridge. He let out a few “Grab this and this”. 

“Fuck, I need to change. Why didn't you come get me earlier?” Joel’s tone was impatient, something you had never really heard before. He was always so pleasant. 

“My bad. Didn’t know I was babysitting a grown man,” you huffed, holding a plethora of ingredients Joel had thrown at you. 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ smart ass” Joel half yelled. He stopped for a moment, a deep sigh escaping him. He forced himself to finally look at you, his eyes traveling up your body. Fuck, you looked so good. 

“Sorry…Listen, I need you to take this shit to the grill while I get the ribs ready. Then come here, get me a decent outfit. Nothing crazy. Just need a semi-nice shirt and jeans.” Joel raddled, his words coming out faster than you processed. 

You nodded your head in agreement. It was something Joel loved about you. How easily you listened, how accepting and obedient of his words you were. 

A few hours had passed and Joel’s sour attitude had remained the same. He watched from a lawn chair, drinking beers like a sad old man as you danced with family and friends, hugged your father, and smiled at the few strangers in attendance. He tried his damndest to keep his boiling anger at bay, possessive thoughts of grabbing you and leading you to his bedroom invading him. It pissed him off even more to see you act so casual. Like the thought of him ravishing you never crossed your mind. Was he just some kind of freak weirdo obsessed with a teenage girl half his age? Or worse… was he just your dad’s friend to you? 

Racing thoughts plagued his mind. He probably looked like a standoffish asshole to everyone. He had hoped to be in good spirits by the time the party started, but you just would not fuck off. You stood next to him as he cooked, offering help in any way you could. Of course, you were trying to be polite, just wanting to be of assistance. He knew that he should not be so angry at you, but that stupid sundress was making his cock throb against the zipper of his jeans, no release in sight for hours. He daydreamed of when he could lay in bed, cursing himself as he pulled up your Instagram page. Like most nights, he would zoom in on your pictures, picking out ones of you on the beach, your thighs, ass, or tits on display. Then, he would gently drag down his boxers, coat his hand with a thin layer of spit and stroke his cock until he was cumming on his stomach. 

For now, he was stuck in this chair, watching you like a fucking weirdo.

“Joey”, your dad’s voice rang out across the yard, an octave above the heavy rock music playing in the background. Joel hesitated to stand, scared his semi-hard cock might be obvious to those around him. He forced himself up, half-drunk beer in hand, and made his way over to David.

“Just wanted to t-thank you for bringing everyone t-together. You've been a g-great friend to me, and you’ve been so so good to y/n. You would be a great f-father, ya know.” Your dad’s words were slurred and he drunkenly threw his arm around Joel's shoulder. An intense sting of guilt and disgust rushed through Joel like he was being struck by lightning. Guilt because he was daydreaming of fucking the brains out of his best friend’s daughter and disgust because David had just compared you to Joel’s imaginary child.

“Of course,” Joel spoke simply, quickly downing the rest of his beer. This wouldn’t work. He needed something hard. A drink that would actually loosen him up. Joel pulled himself from your dad’s arm, trying to act as happy as he could. He’s finally lost sight of you. Thank god. “Gonna go get another drink, want anything?” Joel asked, watching as your father struggled to gain balance. Clearly, he was cut off. “Actually, never mind.” Joel laughed, his first genuine laugh of the entire day.

Joel wandered to the backdoor, sliding the glass frame open and quickly ducking inside. The house was quiet, everyone gathered outside drinking and laughing. It relaxed him, and he closed his eyes, leaning against the door framing and letting out a heavy breath. 

“Social anxiety?” You asked, standing in the kitchen, a cherry popsicle wrapped around your lips.

“Somethin’ like that,” Joel smiled, shaking his head and begging to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but near you. His skin crawled as he watched you lick the popsicle, your tongue gliding in a circular motion around the tip. You knew what you fucking doing. Joel knew it. You both knew it. 

Joel stayed glued to the doorframe, his eyes locked on you as you silently dragged your tongue from the bottom of the popsicle to the top and then dipped it deep into your mouth. 

“Stop,” Joel commanded, taking long strides to the kitchen. He did not dare get too close to you, so he stopped when you were just out of reach, hoping the distance was enough to hold him back. 

“What? I’m not doing anything,” You spoke innocently, sucking the tip of the popsicle until red juice settled on your lips and ran softly down your chin. A light smile sat on your face as you looked up through your eyelashes at Joel, continuing your gentle attack on the popsicle. 

“I’m serious,” Joel spoke, not a hint of emotion behind his words. He took an involuntary step closer, his legs no longer under his control. “You know what you're doing…” Joel whispered, lowering his face until it was just above your ear, his breath hot and thick on the smooth skin of your neck. Every fiber of your being stood at alert and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why was he so close? Why had he been in such a bad mood today?

“Joey, I-” Your voice was enough to push him over the edge, and without warning, he took the popsicle from your hand, laying it down on the counter. He pressed his body against you, trapping you between him and the counter. Your back arched against the cold marble, a hint of fear widening your eyes. Joel stood silently in front of you, looming above your tiny frame. 

“God, you don’t know what you do to me little girl”, Joel’s voice had finally softened but his jaw and fists were still closed tight, like he might explode at any moment. 

You try to speak, try to come up with any type of words, but your mind has disconnected from your body and all you can think is ‘Joel, Joel, Joel’. You don't try to pull away from him, don't even fight when he takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you swear you could die right there.

His lips fan above yours momentarily, so close but still so achingly far away. “Say you want this,” Joel mumbles, dragging his thumb across your plump lips, a bright red stain left behind by the cherry flavoring. 

Your body is a melting, trembling mess already. “I-I w-want this,” your words are hardly audible, all breathy and slow. 

That’s all it takes for Joel to completely break, come undone to the point he can never be ‘done’ again. Joel slams into you, pulling you into a sloppy kiss, claiming you through a desperate mess of saliva and tongue. He can taste the cherry on your lips, sweet and addicting. He is completely lost in you, biting softly against your bottom lip. You tug your hand in his hair, thick brown locks finding a home between your fingers. He is a fucking mess and he cannot stop himself from dragging his hands to your waist, pulling you in so deep you are practically one. You suck in a deep breath, allowing Joel’s tongue to dip further inside, swirling inside your mouth desperately. You try to stay quiet, try to keep composed but a moan escapes you before you can even think about stopping it. Need rushes through your body as you whine into him and you feel every muscle in Joel’s body tighten around you. 

Joel cannot believe he is actually fucking doing this. His mind is racing, thoughts clouded with needy desire and despair. He ached for more of you, anything you would offer him. Joel allows himself to get lost in you, finally roaming his hands to your hips, rough and possessive. His lips never part yours, sucking at the tip of your tongue and softly dragging his teeth across it.

Joel's strong hands travel lower, gripping your soft curvy thighs with calloused fingertips. He squeezes your supple flesh, pushing you deeper into the counter. He swears he could do this, just this for hours, never even needing to be inside you to feel euphoria. He kneads at your skin, pulling you flush against his body and biting your lip again. Hesitance lingers through him but he ultimately gives in, slipping his hand under the hem of your dress. Joel groans against your lips as his fingers wander to softer, gentler skin. They move higher and higher until they meet the edge of your panties, slowly tracing a finger along the fabric, his other hand on your waist keeping your wiggles firmly at bay. 

You finally break the kiss, tearing your mouth away from him with reluctance. You place your forehead on his shoulder, breath hot and heavy against his chest. He drops his head, resting it gently atop of yours. His hand on your waist gives you a light squeeze. Joel inhales deeply, the smell of rose and vanilla filling his senses. A low groan reverberates through his chest, need echoing off of him. He wants you right here, doesn't even care if anyone sees or walks in. Doesn't care if it would end up with him getting his ass beat. He just needs you. 

You bite down on the fabric of Joel’s shirt as his hands travel to your ass and grip you tight. He easily lifts you, sitting you down gently on the cold marble in front of him. He knows better, knows not to dip his fingers inside you but your pleading, begging, eyes told him differently.  

Your pupils dilate with lust, a soft whimper easily hexing Joel’s finger back to your thin panties. 

Joel looks down at you, soft hunger written across his face. “This okay?” he whispers, lightly dragging a finger down your clothed slit. You wonder if he can feel the warm, wet spot staining your pretty pink panties. 

“Mmmh,” is all you can reply, Joel’s free hand caressing the skin of the inside of your thigh. He applies gentle pressure, slowly spreading your legs, making more room for his long fingers. Your dress rides up, fabric bunching just above your pelvis. You were finally on display for him, cunt almost exposed. 

Joel watches you tremble under his touch, eyebrows furrowed as he palms at your core. His hand is so warm and your breath hitches in your throat. His movements are slow, so hurtfully soft. He has not even done anything, but his chest is rising and falling like he just fought in war. Your forehead returns to his shoulder and you grab at his forearm, body screaming for more of the sweet sensations of his fingers. You place a light kiss on his shoulder, closing your eyes as Joel uses his fingers to massage your outer lips, pinching them together. Joel moved his finger in a swirling motion, circling your clit with possessiveness. He groans into your neck, breathing in your sweet scent again. He was drunk off it, drunk off you.

“You gonna let me take these off?” Joel whispers, dipping the very tip of his index finger under the hem of your panties.

“Yes, sir”, you whine, your voice a destroyed pathetic cry. Joel chuckles, a smirk on his lips as your cry vibrates through him. Relief struck him. He wasn’t just your dad’s friend, and he wasn’t imagining things. You wanted him. You wanted him.

“Just Joel, baby”, he responds, pulling at the thin pink material. 

“Joel”, you repeat, cold air hitting your exposed core. 

Joel is quick to drag your panties down, past your white heels, and shove them deep in his pants pockets. He couldn't just leave them lying around. Joel swallows hard, the back of his throat dry with nervousness. He knows he should stop here before he does anything he can’t take back. But it’s too late, and his fingers are reaching for your sensitive bundle of nerves. Joel takes a moment to spread your legs wider, groaning as he finally takes a look at your pretty pussy. He could’ve passed out at the sight, your lips plump and the inside a dark rosy pink. You looked like heaven on earth. 

Usually, Joel would have lubed up his fingers, shoved them in your mouth until you were gagging around them, and coated them thickly with your spit but he could tell you were wet enough, your arousal dripping down your cunt to pool on the marble under your ass.

His finger enters you and you can't stop the loud moan that rings through the empty house. “Shh, babygirl, shh”. Joel speaks tenderly. He curls his finger upwards, gently stroking against your soft walls. He can’t believe how fucking wet, warm, and tight your pussy feels around his finger. He wants to die in there, drown in your juices. 

You nod your head, biting your lip so hard you swear you taste a hint of blood. Juices coat his finger and a faint squelching sound fills his ears. Fuck, he’s never been so hard. You arch your back, hips rudding gently at his movements. More moans escape you, and you have to slam your lips back on his to keep quiet. 

He meets your kiss, swallowing every sound that involuntarily floods out of you.  He pressed his finger in deeper, pumping in and out as slow as he could. He tried his hardest to stay gentle, too scared to get rough. 

“Oh! Joel…n-need more”, you whimpered watching as fingers entered and exited you smoothly. 

“Yeah? This not enough for my little girl, huh?” Joel growled, adding a second finger deep inside you. This time, he curled his fingers with a mission. He had to make you cum like this, had to feel your walls tighten around him. 

His two fingers were so thick, stretching your cunt out with a subtle burn. It was so much more than you were used to, more than you could ever give yourself. You gasped at the new sensation, your pussy sucking him in deeper and deeper. 

You were crying now, whimpers and moans of Joel's name spilling out of you like a bucket of paint kicked over on the floor. “Fuck, J-Joel. Please, please. Can’t take anymore. I’m gonna cum, please.” You practically screamed, hands tight around his shoulders. 

“Such a good girl. Go ahead and cum on my fingers.” Joel growled “Let me watch you”, he demanded, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. Your mouth fell silently open, eyes locked on his.

You felt your chest tighten, a coil snapping inside you and shaking your entire system. “Oh fuck,” you screamed, feeling more wetness drip out of you and down your soft thighs. Your vision blurred, a foggy haze destroying every once of strength in your body.

“There you go, baby girl. Just like that”, Joel mumbled, placing soft kisses on your forehead and cheek. He subtly slowed his fingers until they came to a stop, pulling them out of you with a sting. “Did so good for me, so fucking good.” 

Joel whipped his fingers on his pants, grabbing your hips and helping you down from the counter. Your legs wobbled as they hit the ground, and Joel helped you regain balance. He took a moment to fix your hair, whipping away the thin layer of salvia he left on your lips and chin. You pulled your dress down, legs still shaky.

Joel squeezed your side again. His brown eyes stare down at you and he places one last soft kiss on your lips, before clearing his throat and walking out of the kitchen towards the front door. 

He doesn't say bye. Not to you. Not to his best friend. He just goes home, hating himself and craving you even more. 

You stay pressed against the counter, your face flushed and lips swollen a bright pink. You take a moment to catch your breath, questioning if you imagined the interaction. Your heart races as you feel your core, slightly sore and dripping. 

[unintentionalseductress]

ok, so I'm really thirsty about the new quadbanner like everyone else, and I really don't know how to request this, but can you write something about Zayne's how he pulling down his zipper, telling us how it would be enough.. tysmm 😔

I think we've all been thirsty since the quad banner came out. I'm like what am I doing with my life, can it just be the 31st already 😩😩😩

Just The Tip

You're struggling. You loved being called a good girl but Zayne made it so hard to be worthy of receiving that praise. Even now. His instructions were simple. Lay naked on the bed and do nothing. No restraints, no punishments. He was trying to make it easy for you. But at the moment it felt like even the simplest things he was doing were making you dangerously close to snapping.

You'd lain there as he'd teased your nipples, working the little buds into aching peaks, and you'd gasped and tried not move as he'd gathered slick from your dripping core and stroked it onto your delicate, swollen, clit, his smoldering eyes darkening as you'd tried to control the building need rising within you. The promise of an orgasm hung in the air but you became careless; one tiny miscalculated action of bucking your hips, and Zayne had stopped, leaving you tingling and bereft.

You'd watched with desperate eyes as he circled around the bed, coming to a halt near your head, wearing a sexy smirk that sent a rush of arousal into your core. "Tch. You make it so hard to praise you, you know? I gave you the most basic of instructions. It appears lying still and doing nothing is too much to ask of you."

Devastated by his lack of approval, you give him your most rueful look, trying to appear apologetic, then whimper as he forcefully grasps your chin, his mouth covering yours as his tongue sensually enters. The wet slip of it against your tongue has you melting, becoming heady from the taste of him as your pussy throbs almost painfully from the lack of stimulation.

Withdrawing, he pushes away hair from your face, cupping your cheek almost tenderly. "Well since it appears you're doing the bare minimum, unfortunately, that's all I can give back to you."

You watch with wide eyes as Zayne opens the zipper of his slacks, and tugs them down along with his underwear, letting his cock spring free, thick and already swollen with arousal, a bead of precum visible in the slit. You almost groan at the sight, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you into the mattress, his hot meat stroking your slippery inner walls. You almost forgot that Zayne was not rewarding you at this moment.

He huffs, then positions himself between your spread legs. "Did you really think I was going to let you have all of this?" You let out a small gasp as you feel his tip breach your entrance, pushing in slowly, each minor inch moved making you feel like you might lose your sanity. You try to stay still, letting him do as he pleases, then let out a noise of disappointment as he withdraws. He repeats the process over and over until your arousal has dribbled onto the sheets, making an absolute mess, your mind in a sexual fog.

Zayne's tip is covered with your fluids that have leaked over his velvety column, and he prepares himself to enter again, and the pathetic look of helplessness on your face almost makes him laugh.

"What're you looking at me like that for hmm? Did you think you'd get more with your poor behavior?" He rests his tip halfway inside your canal and stops, feeling the hopeless little clenches of your walls on his cock, as though it eas trying to suck him in further.

"I think that's enough for now." Zayne pulls out completely and you give up, crying out in protest. He chuckles as your reaction before tucking himself back neatly into his pants, fixing his shirt and running his fingers thorough his barely disheveled hair. He offers his hand to you, and you take it, perplexed, and let him help you sit up.

"Get your clothes back on. Yvonne will help you make another appointment. Use that time to work on your discipline and maybe I'll reward that behavior."

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[michigo-eevee-trainer]

An Eclipse

Ok so this is a short story I made from one of @kyri45 asks for their Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU. They were asked what would happen when Wukong saw Macaque with white fur for the first time. And this idea stuck in my brain until I finally wrote. So here you go. My take on what happened that day. Sorry if my writing isn't very good.

~~~~~~

Liu'er looked up at the night sky. The moon was glowing brightly meaning it was one thing. An Eclipse. Liu'er let out a breath allowing his glamours to fall away. He thought back to the first time he had experienced an eclipse. How his shadow powers suddenly stopped working. How much he had panicked thinking he was losing his powers completely. It took him a while to calm down where his Mother had explained what was going on. How the Eclipse was messing with his shadow powers and he would get them back when the Eclipse was done. His Mother, or should he say the one who raised him, showed him how to get his powers back through the Eclipse. Not even his true Mother, and she was the one to teach him so much. Liu'er looked at his hands which now had white fur. The white fur was almost glowing meaning they were getting close.

It was a quiet night and no other monkey was around. Most monkeys wanted nothing to do with Liu'er anyways. Not that he minded, especially when it came to this. It would just take too long to explain if someone had spotted him doing this. Liu'er closed his eyes just taking in the calm breeze as he waited.

"Whoa!"

Liu'er flinched and quickly whipped around towards the noise. Wukong was standing there. Wukong was just staring at him with his jaw dropped a bit. Liu'er felt his nerves spike at being caught.

"W-Wait I…I can…"

"You look…" Then Wukong's face shifted from amazement to worry, "Wait! Are you aging! Is that why you're turning white?!"

"What?! No?! No No! That's not--"

"You're aging quickly! Hold on! I figure out how to--"

"Wukong I'm not aging! I'm--"

A feeling passed over Liu'er causing him to look up at the sky. The Eclipse was almost about to start. There wasn't a lot of time.

"Just One Minute!" Liu'er turned to the Eclipse.

Liu'er quickly began to go through the motion of Eclipse that he had been taught. He toned out Wukong as he needed to focus for this. As he went through this, his fur slowly turned back to black. It only took about a minute or so for his fur to become fully black again. Which was also the time when the Moon was completely covered. Liu'er gave a small sigh of relief before turning back to Wukong. His condition hadn't gotten any better. He still looked so worried but there was also a hint of confusion in his eyes.

Liu'er gave a small smile, "See? I'm fine. I'm not aging or--"

Wukong tackled Liu'er down knocking the wind out of him.

Wukong hugged him tightly, "I was so worried. Liu'er!"

"Wukong, I'm fine. I promise. I'm fine. This happens every year."

Wukong looked up at him, "What do you mean?"

Liu'er gave a small sigh before asking, "Remember my shadow powers?"

Wukong gave a nod so Liu'er explained, "When we got close to the Eclipse, my powers start going away. And with my magic going away, it reveals my natural fur color. Once the Eclipse is over, I get my powers back."

Wukong stared at him for a moment before asking, "Your fur is naturally white?"

Liu'er blinked in surprise at the question. Out of all the information he just got, that was the question he was going to ask.

"Umm…Yeah."

"But you've always had black fur."

"I glamour it to look black."

"Why?"

"It's easier to blend in with black fur."

"But you look pretty with white fur."

Liu'er looked surprised as a pink blush crossed his face. He really wished Wukong wouldn't just say stuff like that.

"Well…I…."

Wukong pleaded, "Undo your glamours so I can see your fur. Please Liu'er. Please."

Liu'er debated doing that just to show Wukong. But then another feeling passed over Liu'er. One that made him extremally tired. Oh right. He forget that getting his powers back made him tired. He hoped that stopped when he got older. He also hoped he had enough energy to at least make it to a tree to sleep.

"Maybe later, Wukong."

"But--"

"Wukong I'm tired."

Wukong seemed to realized that Liu'er was indeed tired, "Oh right. Time for bed."

Wukong let him go as he got up. Liu'er was going to get up to start walking back. That was until Wukong picked him up and placed him right on his back. Liu'er just held on, stunned, as Wukong started to walk back.

After a moment, Liu'er got control over his mouth again, "What are you doing?"

"You're tired so I'll carry you back."

"Y-You don't have to."

"But I want to. Now you can rest and I'll get you back."

Liu'er placed his chin on Wukong's shoulder, "Thank you."

"No problem. You know, I really hope that you'll show me your fur again. It really was pretty and I…"

The rest of Wukong's words were lost to Liu'er as his eyes began to close. Maybe he would show his fur to Wukong again. Maybe.

[rootedinrevisions]

Since Forever

SUMMARY: After a harrowing near-death experience in the sky when a routine training exercise goes wrong, you and Jake are forced to confront the unspoken tension that's always simmered between you. With a crash landing and a moment that changes everything, the line between squadmates and something more begins to blur.

A/N: Thank you to the person who sent this request in! I'm sorry it's been like 3 weeks since you sent it in, but hopefully, it's worth the wait! Hope you enjoy it! xx

WARNINGS: Angst, Mutual Pining, Plane Crash (Smoke, Impact, Head Injury, Blood), Cussing

WORD COUNT: 3.6k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The dry California air carried the hum of activity on the tarmac, the heat shimmering in waves off the asphalt as you stood in your flight suit, clipboard in hand. The roar of jets echoed in the background, a familiar symphony you’d grown accustomed to over the years. North Island was as bustling as ever, a mix of old faces and new ones prepping for the upcoming training exercises.

You were focused on your pre-flight checks, meticulously going over every detail on your clipboard. Attention to detail had always been your strong suit, something that had earned you respect in the cockpit and plenty of snide comments from one particular squad mate.

“Still babysitting that clipboard, Ace?”

You didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Jake “Hangman” Seresin’s voice was unmistakable—smooth, cocky, and always laced with that infuriating Texan drawl.

“Still babysitting your ego, Bagman?” you shot back without missing a beat, your eyes remaining on your checklist.

From the corner of your eye, you saw him saunter closer, his helmet tucked under one arm, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Jake had a way of walking that oozed confidence, like he owned every space he entered. It was both maddening and, if you were honest with yourself, slightly impressive.

“Touché,” he drawled, stopping a few feet away. “But seriously, Ace, you’ve been doing this long enough to know the damn thing’s not going to sprout wings and fly off without you.”

You finally glanced up, arching a brow at him. “Says the guy who spent fifteen minutes arguing with the crew chief yesterday about the ‘perfect’ alignment of his seat harness.”

“That’s called being thorough,” Jake replied, unfazed. “You should try it sometime.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your attention back to your jet. “Is there something you actually need, or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?”

Jake’s grin widened. “Can’t a guy check in on his favorite squad mate?”

“Favorite?” you echoed, snorting. “You must be losing your touch, Hangman. Last time I checked, I was the one gunning for top marks on this run.”

“That’s what makes you my favorite,” he said smoothly, his tone dropping just enough to make your stomach do a small, unwelcome flip.

You hated how he could do that—how he could make the simplest comment sound like it was loaded with a thousand unspoken things. It was part of the tension that had simmered between you two for years, a strange, undefined thing neither of you had ever acknowledged out loud.

“Well, don’t get too comfortable,” you replied, setting your clipboard down. “I’ve got a jet to fly, and you’ve got an ego to stroke somewhere else.”

Jake tilted his head, his green eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful, Ace. One of these days, that sharp tongue of yours is gonna get you in trouble.”

You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes at him as you adjusted the strap on your helmet. “And one of these days, Seresin, you’re going to realize that not everyone is impressed by your southern charm.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. It was like a standoff, the air crackling with the kind of tension that was all too familiar between the two of you. Then Jake stepped back, a soft chuckle escaping him as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“Fair enough,” he said, his grin still firmly in place. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned and started walking toward his jet, his gait as cocky as ever. You shook your head, exhaling slowly as you tried to refocus on the task at hand.

Damn him.

Even now, years after you’d first met, Jake Seresin still had the ability to get under your skin in a way no one else could. And despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you couldn’t entirely shake the small, secret part of you that liked it.

* * * *

The sky was a perfect blue—no clouds, just an endless expanse stretching out in front of you. It was supposed to be a simple exercise, just another day in the air, but your instincts had been nagging at you all morning. Something felt off.

You were flying at full throttle, running through the mission parameters, your fingers lightly grazing the controls as you focused on the task at hand. In the distance, you could see Jake’s jet—smooth and precise, cutting through the air just like always. You kept your distance, the tension between you two still palpable, even miles above the earth.

Then, without warning, the engine sputtered.

"Shit," you muttered under your breath, eyes flicking to the gauges. The warning lights blinked red, and your stomach dropped like a stone. The engine—your primary engine—locked up.

“Ace, you copy?” The crackling voice of your Captain came through your comms, sharp and urgent. “What’s your status?”

You took a steadying breath, trying to keep your pulse under control. The jet was starting to lose altitude, slowly at first, but it wasn’t going to be slow for long.

“Engine’s locked,” you said, voice tight. You glanced down at your instruments again, hoping for a miracle. “I’m losing power. Going down.”

 Jake’s voice exploded through your earpiece. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ace. You hear me? Eject if you have to!”

The words felt like a slap in the face. He was always the first one to play the hero, always telling you what to do like you were some rookie.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Seresin,” you snapped, teeth gritting as you struggled to maintain control. You banked hard to the left, trying to level out, but the jet was sluggish—too sluggish. It was dropping faster now, and the ground was coming up at you way too quickly. “I’m not ejecting.”

“I said—” Jake’s voice broke through again, but you could already hear the Captain cutting him off.

“Ace, listen to me. You have two options right now,” the Captain said, his tone firm, no room for negotiation. “Eject, or try to bring her in. But you don’t have much altitude left.”

You had a split second to make a choice. The sky was shrinking, the earth creeping closer with every heartbeat. Your mind raced—ejecting would be easy, sure. But it would cost you the plane, and it would mean another mission down the drain. And there was always that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you had to rely on someone else to pull you from the wreckage.

You focused, blocking out the voices in your comms, focusing on the controls, on what you could do.

You had one good engine. It wasn’t ideal, but you had just enough altitude to make a hard landing. If you timed it right.

“I’m landing this bird,” you said, your voice steely with determination. You could feel the sweat building under your helmet, your pulse pounding in your ears, but your hands were steady. “I’ve got this.”

“Ace!” Jake’s voice came again, a mix of frustration and panic threading through his words. “You don’t have the altitude—”

“Shut up, Seresin,” you cut him off, your jaw clenched as you took a deep breath. The ground was closing in fast now, the harsh reality of the situation crashing over you. You had seconds to decide how you were going to do this. You could almost hear your heartbeat in your throat as you worked the throttle, pushing the remaining engine to its limits.

“Ace, eject now!” Jake was practically shouting now, but you didn’t have the time to argue. You were already lining up the rough terrain, calculating the risks in your head. You’d done it before—this was just another challenge to overcome. “If you crash—”

“I said I’ve got this!” you growled, pushing the throttle forward and making a last-ditch effort to pull the jet back into some semblance of control.

The sound of the engine was sickening now, almost wheezing, but it was still holding on. You could feel the nose of the plane dip, and you knew it was time. There was no turning back now.

You aimed for the small strip of flat ground, mentally calculating the distance between you and the crash site, praying to every deity that you could pull this off.

The jet dropped faster.

Your stomach lurched.

You could hear the voices of your team—your Captain—fading in the background, their instructions turning into static. All you could hear now was the roar of the engine, your breath, and the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears.

And then the wheels hit the earth. It was harder than you expected. The jet groaned under the strain, the fuselage screeching as you fought for control. The wheels bounced once, twice, and the jet jerked to the side as you fought the controls with everything you had left. The impact was brutal. You slammed into the seat, the world going black for a split second before your mind jolted back into reality.

Your head throbbed, a sharp pain searing behind your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to focus, but everything felt off. Dizzy. The pain was sharp, but you couldn’t focus on it now.

Your hands still gripped the controls like you were trying to hold the whole world together. You could feel the tension in your neck, the tremor in your hands.

And then, the voice you hadn’t realized you were waiting for came through your comms, strained and desperate:

“Ace, talk to me. Are you okay?”

You were silent for a moment, trying to find your bearings. The crash had knocked the wind out of you, but you had to focus. You had to focus.

“I’m... fine,” you gritted out. Your vision was blurry, your head swimming, but you needed to keep it together. “I just need to—”

The world went black for a few moments. The crash had been rough, everything moving too fast, and then you were suddenly weightless, disoriented, and struggling to remember how you had even ended up in this situation. The impact had jarred you, rattling your body so hard you weren’t sure which way was up. The cockpit was filled with smoke, the once-pristine view of the sky now replaced by the harsh, metallic scent of burning fuel.

You could hear the sounds of the control tower in your headset, distant voices now muffled and indistinct. Your head throbbed, dizziness clouding your thoughts. Something was wrong—you were wrong—but the panic started to subside as your mind tried to latch onto something, anything familiar.

The sound of a plane's engines revving pierced the air, and that was when you realized you weren’t alone anymore. Jake's voice cut through the haze.

"Stay with me, Ace, I’m almost there" he barked, his tone uncharacteristically sharp, the usual cocky bravado gone. His voice was full of urgency, tight with a level of fear you hadn’t expected to hear.

You managed to open your eyes, the world around you spinning, but through the haze, you saw his plane descending in the distance—he was landing, landing without permission. Your heart skipped a beat, knowing he was disregarding protocol to get to you.

Within seconds, Jake's jet was on the ground, its wheels screeching as it touched down, and he was already sprinting toward you. There was no waiting for rescue teams, no giving orders. It was just him, and you.

Your chest was tight, your breath shallow, and for a brief moment, you wondered if it was all just a nightmare. Then, through the haze of your spinning mind, Jake’s face appeared—his eyes wide, his expression frantic as he reached the wreckage.

Without hesitation, he pulled open the hatch, the cockpit door groaning under the force. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t waste a second. He carefully pulled your helmet off of you. His eyes moving to the blood that was caused from the impact. His hands then started working to undo your harness, fingers shaking as he snapped the straps free, pulling you into his arms before you could even comprehend what was happening.

His breath was frantic, like he was holding it in, waiting for some kind of confirmation that you were really there. That you were still alive. And in that moment, as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, the world started to stabilize. Your breath came in shaky gasps, your head pounding as the dizziness slowly began to fade.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog from your brain. The weight of your body felt heavier than normal, your limbs still stiff from the crash. But it wasn’t just your body that felt like it was slowing down—it was your mind. Everything was racing too fast, the adrenaline still pushing you into action, but in Jake’s arms, there was a moment of stillness. A second where nothing mattered but the fact that you were safe.

"Don’t you ever do that again," Jake muttered, his voice trembling despite the tough exterior he always wore. His words hit you harder than any of the physical pain, and you felt a strange, overwhelming wave of emotion rush through you. It was as though all the walls you’d both built over the years had crumbled with one unspoken truth. Jake was scared, and in this moment, it wasn’t about flying, or missions, or protocols. It was about you.

You barely registered that you were leaning into him, your chest falling against his as you came back to yourself, your body reacting without thinking, your mind still spinning. His hands were gently running over your back, soothing you, grounding you, even though you could feel the anxiety still vibrating through him.

“J-Jake,” you stuttered.

"I'm here. I’ve got you." His words were a soft mantra, repeated over and over as if he needed to hear them as much as you did.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog. 

“I... I’m fine,” you said, your voice shaky as you pulled away slightly, lifting your head from his chest. But the moment you tried to step back, you felt his arms tighten, keeping you close. The intensity in his gaze was enough to make you stop moving entirely.

“No, you’re not fine,” he shot back, his voice low but full of conviction. His hands still rested on your back, holding you steady, like he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. He wasn’t just holding you. He was holding you like he was terrified of losing you.  “You scared the hell out of me, Ace.”

You swallowed, feeling a weight in your chest you hadn’t been prepared for. The vulnerability in his words was jarring. He had never let his guard down like this before. But there it was—raw, unfiltered concern.

The words stuck in your throat, but somehow you found yourself meeting his gaze, feeling the space between you two close, the tension palpable. 

"Since when did you ever care about me like that?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more of a breathless thought than anything.

Jake froze, his hand still on your arm as he stared at you, his jaw tight, eyes searching yours. For a moment, the world felt suspended in that one breath between you two. He didn’t back away. Instead, his face softened, his expression caught between frustration and something deeper, something he wasn’t saying.

“Since fucking forever, you idiot,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion, almost a growl.

Jake stepped closer, his hand slipping from your arm to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing the skin there in a rare, intimate gesture. The contact sent a jolt through you, and suddenly, nothing about this situation felt like just another close call. This felt like something else entirely. Something you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“I thought I was gonna lose you today,” Jake murmured, his voice low, steady now but still thick with emotion. His forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “I can’t lose you, Ace. I don’t think I’d make it.”

The weight of his words landed heavily in your chest. The truth between you two was finally out, raw and real. You swallowed, trying to hold back the lump in your throat.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jake,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Not without you.”

Jake sighed and then asked you again, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice softer now. You still felt the ache in your head, the sharp sting in your chest, but it wasn’t nearly as important as the way Jake was looking at you now.

His hands slid down your back, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You could see his jaw clench, the words stuck somewhere between his teeth, and then he shook his head.

“Are you? You sure as hell didn’t look fine in that damn cockpit,” he muttered, his voice low and tight. “You could’ve—You’re the closest thing I’ve got to family out here, Ace," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I don’t know what I’d do without you." His words were a stark contrast to the cocky bravado he usually carried. This was real, and it was raw. "You don’t get to put me through that again, got it?"

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it felt like it might explode in your chest. All the tension, all the unspoken things that had hung between you two for years, were now laid bare in the open. There was no hiding anymore. No pretending like you didn’t feel it, too.

“Jake…” you started, but the words wouldn’t come. 

Instead, you pulled him down into a kiss—soft at first, tentative, but it was as if something broke open between you. You felt the fear, the relief, the longing all tangled up in that moment. His lips moved against yours, a little desperate, a little shaky, but it was real.

When you pulled away, you were both breathing heavy, eyes still locked, both of you trying to process what had just happened.

“I don’t know what this is, Jake,” you whispered, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I don’t either,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair as if trying to pull himself together.

The words hung between you two, thick with meaning. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long while, it felt like maybe you didn’t need to figure it out all at once.

You both stayed there, in the middle of the wreckage, still alive, still here—and for the first time in a long time, that was enough.

But then, all too soon, reality crashes back in.

A voice from outside the cockpit, sharp and professional, cuts through the intimacy of the moment like a splash of cold water.

“Hangman! Ace!” The search and rescue team has arrived, and the urgency in their voice snaps Jake out of his daze. “We need to get them out of there, now. Base is requesting immediate transport.”

Jake pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he takes a deep breath, like he’s trying to steady himself. His hand still lingers on your waist, the warmth of it grounding you, but his eyes betray a hesitation���reluctance to let go of the moment.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here, Ace,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself as much as to you.

You nod, feeling your heart hammering again, but for a different reason now. His gaze softens, and there’s a flash of something unspoken between you—a promise, maybe. You can’t quite find the words for it, but you feel it deep in your bones.

The medics are waiting outside, and with one final, reluctant glance at you, Jake starts to lift you away from the cockpit. With his steady presence, and one arm around your waist, he helps you out of the cockpit.

“Easy now,” he murmurs as he guides you down, keeping you close to his chest as if he can’t bear to let you out of his arms just yet. “Take it slow.”

As soon as your feet touch the ground, the search and rescue team rushes to assist you, but Jake doesn't let go immediately. His fingers linger on your arm, his gaze flicking between you and the team as if he’s weighing something—like he’s not quite ready to leave you in someone else’s hands. He hesitates, looking like he wants to say something, but the team is already ushering you toward the waiting helicopter.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, voice firm.

“Jake, you don’t have to—” you start, but he interrupts, his tone brokering no argument.

“No. I’m staying with you.”

The hum of the helicopter’s blades is loud against your ears, but everything else seems muffled as you lie back on the stretcher, still reeling from the crash and the kiss that’s left a strange warmth in your chest. The medics are busy around you, but you can barely focus on them, your mind still racing, spinning from the events of the last few minutes.

The moment Jake climbs in beside you, his presence fills the space. He doesn't hesitate, sitting down next to your stretcher and taking your hand immediately, his fingers curling around yours like it's the only thing tethering him to reality. His face is tight with worry, but the way he holds your hand gives you a strange sense of comfort, something steady amidst the chaos.

The medics move quickly, checking your vitals and assessing your condition, but you can barely register it, your heart still thumping in your chest as the adrenaline from the crash ebbs away, leaving you exhausted. One of the medics starts to remove your flight suit, carefully peeling it off your shoulders to get a better look at any possible injuries, leaving you in nothing but a thin tank top that clings to your skin.

You feel exposed, vulnerable, as the cool air brushes against your skin. It’s an unsettling feeling, but Jake’s hand is still in yours, and when the medic starts to prod at your ribs, you squeeze his hand instinctively, a shiver running down your spine.

“Hey,” Jake murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he leans in closer, his gaze never leaving you. “Focus on me, okay? Look at me.”

His voice is calm, reassuring, and even though you're still reeling, his presence is grounding you, pulling you out of the haze of discomfort and medical poking. His thumb rubs small circles over the back of your hand as the medic continues his examination, but Jake doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away.

“Just look at me,,” Jake repeats, his voice steady. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

You manage to meet his eyes, and the intensity of his gaze sends a strange warmth flooding through you, cutting through the nervousness. In this moment, it’s just you and him, as if the rest of the world has faded away. You want to say something—tell him that you're okay, that you don’t need all this attention—but the words get lost in your throat.

Instead, you hold onto him tighter, needing him to keep you tethered, to keep you from feeling so exposed and raw.

The medic moves on to checking your head, and you wince at the touch, the sting of pain making you flinch. Jake immediately leans forward, his hand tightening around yours as he shifts closer.

“Easy, Ace,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. Focus on me. That’s it.”

You nod, trying to focus on his words, trying to push the discomfort and the questions swirling in your mind to the back of your head. His presence is like a lifeline. His voice is the one thing that makes you feel like you’re not alone in this. Like you're not just another casualty.

“Once they’re done poking and prodding, we’re going to get you something strong to drink,” Jake says softly, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile as his thumb brushes against your hand once more. “And I’m not talking about water. I’m thinking something a little more... celebratory.”

A part of you wants to laugh, but you're too exhausted, too wired from the whole experience. Still, there's a glimmer of something in Jake’s eyes now, something more than just the mission or the tension between you. There’s something new in his gaze, like a shift, and you feel it too—this unspoken understanding between you both that things are different now.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that?" you murmur, your voice hoarse from the adrenaline. "One minute, you're flying like a maniac, and the next, you're talking about taking me out for a drink like it's a... date."

Jake’s grin widens slightly, the kind of smile that only happens when he’s completely unguarded. “I’m thinking it’s more than a date, Ace,” he replies, squeezing your hand again. “Maybe it’s a... celebration. You know, to celebrate you not getting yourself killed.”

His tone is playful, but there’s something real behind it, a tenderness that wasn’t there before. Something that’s been waiting to come to the surface for a long time.

The helicopter ride drags on as the medics continue their work, but Jake stays by your side the entire time, never letting go of your hand, his steady presence like a quiet promise that he’s not going anywhere. His words from earlier echo in your mind, and you realize that, for the first time, you don’t feel alone. Not with him here. Not after everything you’ve been through.

When you finally land back at base, you’re still a little shaky, but the thought of what Jake said—of what he hinted at—keeps you grounded, keeps you looking forward to what comes next, whatever that is.

[oxymorayuri]

❞𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐞❝

Headcanons with my favorite boyssss [ Ace | Kid | Law | Doffy ] Wordcount » 1234 (lol no way... you see it? 1234...) Info » just cute things ;3

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: Ace: qmech | Kid: skxviii | Law: oyasumi_mofu | Doffy: Hijiki_DaiXt

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑔𝑎𝑠 𝐷. 𝐴𝑐𝑒

You both get partner tattoos instead of wedding rings but not something lame like a circle around the ring finger rather something small and personal. You have a little flame on the side of your thigh and he has one on his chest that has something to do with you. Maybe you have a devil fruit or a special weapon? It's up to you :p

You never thought you'd cry at your wedding ceremony because Ace let the most beautiful vows EVER leave his lips. His words were typically Ace and in between your tears he made you laugh. You were almost ashamed when it was your turn because you just wanted to repeat a sentence he once said to you but you changed it a bit… "I'm not interested in living a thousand years, it's enough for me to survive today with you." You spoke. Ace recognized the words immediately and remembered the conversation you shared in the past with a broad grin. He almost yanked you to him and kissed your lips even though the priest hadn't even given his blessing yet. But he doesn't care, he doesn't need the priest's blessings when he has you.

He definitely had his own thoughts about the wedding. For example, he has looked into various traditions… but it seems like he got something wrong… Instead of carrying you bridal style over the doorstep, he carried you all day. As soon as you set foot on the floor to get a new drink, he picked you up in his arms. His statement? "Come on love, when will I have the chance to carry you in your wedding dress again?". Okay that's smooth.

𝐸𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝐾𝑖𝑑

Kid probably would never have proposed to you on his own. You've been together for so long now and every time you've seen a married couple your mood has soured. You were annoyed and also disgusted and one day Killer asked you about it and in the conversation you ironically realized that you also wanted to get married lol… when you were with Kid in his workshop you casually mentioned, that you thought it would be a good idea for the two of you to get married as he was working on one of his new creations. He froze at the word marriage and the next second his machine caught fire because he held the welding rod on it for too long. You both panicked and put out the fire and you realized that he found the topic unpleasant and unnecessary, but you are you and you get everything you want, even if you have to force him! Luckily for you, Killer told you that Kid likes the idea of you committing to him forever, but pshht… otherwise Killer will lose his life.

He will send you away if you want to ask him something about the wedding planning or want his opinion. He'll just tell you that you can do whatever you think is necessary (ugh). You think it's a bit of a shame but you don't mind, you just want him to feel comfortable at his own wedding. After all, it's not just yours. But if it were up to him, he would simply put the ring on your finger and seal your marriage with a big smooch on the lips. But later in the evening you notice that he has circled options he likes or left little notes on your wedding plans and that's when you know you're marrying the right one.

he forges your rings and is quite proud of his work, but secretly nags Killer that he is unsure whether you like the rings. When he saw the sparkle in your eyes and heard your words about how much you love the rings, his heart stopped for a moment only to beat extremely fast. He wanted to marry you right on the spot, but he knows how much love you put into the planning. Happy wife happy life lol.

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑎𝑤

A grand wedding with everyone (including the straw hats etc.) is planned, but he has other plans and takes you to the most romantic place to have a wedding ceremony just for the two of you. The party can still take place afterwards with everyone, you are a little social butterfly after all, but the wedding ceremony? That's between you and him <3

Law, similar to Ace, would want partner tattoos instead of real rings but rather in an intimate place where only both of you will see it… if you know what I mean ;) It's safe to say he'll shower your tattoo with kisses everytime when you're getting busy.

He has already seen you (without you knowing it) in your wedding dress. He knew exactly what was going on when you waltzed happily past him with a big package... And even if he hesitated for a moment, he followed you discreetly like a pretty good stalker… He peered through the gap of the door to the room you shared. You were apparently so excited that you hadn't even closed the door. He heard you squealing happily in the bathroom and without really realizing it, he held his breath until you came out of the bathroom. And then you stood there in your beautiful white dress. The feeling in his chest increased rapidly as he watched you twirl in front of the mirror like a princess. Your laughter makes him grin… "I guess she's just as happy as I am that we're getting married..." he thought to himself with a satisfied expression as he let go of the door and walked away. He leaves you a little moment for yourself and your joy, he'll see you walking towards him soon anyway. He is pretty sure that he will never forget that moment. The sight of you walking towards him will be engraved in his brain.

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

You want fireworks that paint your faces in the sky? A thousand white doves that are released when you kiss? A 10 meter high chocolate fountain? A wedding in pink? No problem. Your list is long and you get everything you want. Doflamingo will put together the perfect team to fulfill your every wish. Money doesn't matter, but you do.

You get a ring with a gemstone you've never seen before. Even if you express your doubts that you are afraid of losing this precious ring, Doffy reacts almost insulted. You are the rarest and most valuable gemstone in the world. If you lose the ring, he'll have a new one before you know it.

It's going to be a big big wedding BUT not many people are invited because there's a chance of someone ruining it. Whoever is invited is a big figure or part of the family. Everything is secured but not in an oppressive way. It all plays in the background, because if there were security guards everywhere it would ruin your perfect wedding picture. Nobody is allowed to ruin this day for you and him and if they do, they will pay for it. He also has the wedding broadcast live on TV so that everyone can see that he's marrying the most beautiful woman in the world. How extra.

Masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading it. See you next time <3

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒚𝒖𝒓𝒊 ���

[mafiadad5]

How can you mend a broken heart? [lmk]

“It’s only to make him Jealous Y/n, swear.”

✧ mark lee x fem!reader

✧ Genre- angst, fluff, mutual pining, best friends to strangers to lovers, fake dating, university au (only implied once though).

✧ Wc- 11k

✧ Warnings- heartbreak, kissing.

✧ Playlist- how can you mend a broken heart - Al Green / Moon river - Frank Ocean / Lose Control - Teddy Swims / Tell Him - Ms. Lauryn Hill / At Last - Etta James / ✧

a/n- omg hi again! I enjoyed writing my last mark angst so I decided to do another one with a… happier ending. I hope you guys enjoy!

────୨ৎ────

"Hey, I got here as fast as I could... woah dude, are you okay?" Mark's smile dropped the moment he saw your puffy, watery eyes through the door frame. You didn't say anything, just reached out and pulled him into a hug, sobbing into his chest.

"We're done, we're really done, Mark... it's over." Your voice trembled, each word fragile as you struggled to keep your emotions together.

Mark froze for a second, caught off guard before gently wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in tighter. His shirt dampened from your tears, but he didn't care. He just held you, trying to steady you with his presence.

"Wait who? You and Jaemin?" Mark asked, his voice filled with concern as he stepped into your apartment, closing the door behind him without letting go. His arm remained firmly around your waist, supporting you as you buried your face in his chest.

You nodded, struggling to breathe between sobs. "We had this huge fight over... Minecraft, Mark— fucking Minecraft! He told me he couldn't do this anymore. That we weren't going to work, and he just left." 

You pulled back from the hug, your lip quivering uncontrollably as hot tears streamed down your face. The disbelief, the shock of it all was hitting you hard. Your mind was racing, replaying the fight over and over. It felt surreal how something so stupid could destroy everything.

Mark's eyebrows shot up, a brief expression of surprise painting his face. "Minecraft...?" He raised a brow, and for a split second, the corner of his mouth shaped into a small smirk.

Your expression shifted, eyes narrowing. "It's not funny." you muttered, voice cracking. "It's not-”

"No, no, I know. It's not funny." Mark quickly interrupted, his smirk fading as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry Y/n. It's not funny at all."

"What an asshole for breaking up with you over Minecraft of all things." He paused, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked at you.

You let out a shaky breath, wiping your face with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming. "It wasn't just the game Mark. He said he's been feeling like this for a while. That I didn't 'get him' anymore. And that stupid argument was just the last straw, I guess."

"Dude that still doesn't give him the right to like, leave you like that, over something so... stupid. If he was feeling something, he should've talked to you. It's not on you to just magically know what he's thinking." Mark said, eyes softening as he gently cupped your shoulder, guiding you to the couch.

You sat down, pulling your knees to your chest, staring blankly at the floor. "I thought we were fine. Like, we had our ups and downs, but I thought we would work through it."

Mark sat next to you, his arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you close again. "You didn't do anything wrong. If he's been feeling this way and didn't tell you, that's on him, not you. You're not a mind reader."

You leaned into him, your head resting on his shoulder. "I just... I feel so stupid. Over a game, Mark. Who loses someone they love over Minecraft?"

"It's not stupid." Mark said softly.

"He's the one who made this bigger than it needed to be. It could've been a conversation, but he turned it into something else. He made the choice to walk away, not you."

"But what if I'm not enough? What if... I never was?" You sniffed, trying to stop the fresh tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

Mark tightened his grip around you, his voice firm. "Don't say that. You are more than enough. Jaemin didn't deserve you if he couldn't see that. You deserve someone who's going to communicate, who's going to fight for you, not leave over some dumb fight."

You stayed quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. His warmth and presence were the only things keeping you sane right now. Mark always knew how to make you feel safe, even when everything around you was falling apart.

"I don't know how to move on from this." You whispered lightly.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now—" Mark said gently. 

"I'm here, okay? We'll get through this together. One step at a time. And if that means we stay up all night, then so be it. Or like you know, we can just destroy things in creative mode until you feel better."

A small laugh escaped you, despite everything. It was weak, but it was there. "That... actually sounds kind of nice."

Mark grinned, nudging you playfully. "See? One tiny step forward already. And seriously man, Jaemin doesn't know what he's missing."

You wiped your face again, the tears slowing. "Thanks Mark. I really don't know what I'd do without you."

His expression softened as he smiled. "Well, you'll never have to find out, because I'm not going anywhere." 

You laid your head on his shoulder, sitting silently as you two took in each other’s embrace. 

Aren’t you glad to have a best friend like Mark?

────୨ৎ────

"So, how are you feeling?" Mark asked, his eyes flickering between the movie on the screen and you. The soft glow from the TV cast shadows across the room, but his attention was entirely on you.

You took a handful of popcorn and slowly chewed, letting out a deep sigh as you leaned back against the couch. "Better..." you said, forcing a small smile. It wasn't entirely true, but sitting next to him, you felt a little more at ease.

Mark smiled softly, sensing your hesitation, but he didn't push for more. For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the background noise of the movie filling the space between your thoughts, but the quiet never lasted long. 

You sat up suddenly, huffing as you crossed your arms. "Ugh Mark, it's just like—why did this have to happen to me? We're in the same friend group, and now it's gonna be so awkward. I can't even think about how I'll face him."

As if on cue, your phone buzzed on the coffee table, lighting up with notifications from the group chat. A notification from your group of friends. You frowned as you swiped the notifications away.

Mark glanced at his own phone, seeing the same texts. "You know me and my ex are in that friend group too, and it hasn't affected anything," He said, giving a small shrug. "As you can see, we've all moved on and if Jaemin has any sense left, he'll do the same. He won't bring anything up and will just... leave you alone."

Mark's voice trailed off as his phone buzzed again. "Plus, it looks like he's already getting the memo. He hasn't said a word since-"

"Well, what about me, Mark?!" You blurted out, pressing the "Do Not Disturb" button on your phone in frustration, your voice rising as you tossed your phone aside and slumped back onto the couch, lips forming a pout. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Mark follow your lead, tapping the same option on his own screen. It made you smile a little, knowing that even in this, he was quietly on your side.

Mark sighed and nudged you lightly with his elbow. "Look, just stop overthinking it, okay? Watch the movie. Everything will be fine. Trust me."

When you didn't respond he reached out, gently brushing away a few popcorn crumbs from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. His touch lingered for a second longer than necessary and you caught his gaze, feeling a flutter in your chest. For a moment the tension between you shifted—just the slightest flicker, but enough to make you feel the heat rise to your cheeks.

"You know..." You said, trying to distract yourself from the sudden tension."You'd make such a better boyfriend than Jaemin. How'd you and your ex break up again?"

"She broke up with me to 'focus on herself' or something like that. Honestly, I don't even care anymore. I'm over it." Mark said chuckling, shaking his head.

"Oh my god, yeah, no, I remember that. I knew there was another reason I didn't like her." You said with a teasing smile

Mark raised an eyebrow, his curiosity scratching at him. "Wait, what's the first reason?"

You raised your eyebrows right back, a mischievous smirk painting your lips. "Naw, don't get quiet now!" Mark teased, his tone light but challenging. "Tell me, or I’ll tell her you didn't like her this whole time."

"Stop Mark, oh my god. She probably already knows anyway." You giggled, swatting him playfully.

Both of you broke into laughter, the playful energy between you easing the tension, but then, your phone lit up again, snapping you both out of the moment. It was another group chat notification. You glanced at the screen, and Mark did the same.

“You're invited to my mini get together at the arcade tomorrow at 8. Idc if you're busy, drop it and be there!”

You sighed heavily and turned your phone off, tossing it aside again. 

"We're gonna have so much fun." Mark said sarcastically, even though he was already typing a confirmation in the chat.

"We're not gonna have anything because I'm not going." You muttered, folding your arms across your chest. You could feel his gaze shift to you, the teasing gone from his face.

"Dude. Yes, you are." He said, his voice firm but gentle.

"Look at me! I can't go out and see him this soon. I'm a mess, Mark." You shot back, gesturing at yourself with a frown. 

"You're not a mess." He said, shaking his head, his eyes softening as he watched you.

"You're upset, and that's normal. But trust me, you can do this. He didn't even respond to the invite, see? He's probably not even going. I'll be with you the entire time."

You wanted to hide from everything, from everyone, but the way Mark was looking at you—his eyes filled with quiet determination, like he wouldn't take no for an answer made it hard to refuse.

"Seriously Y/n, please come. I'll make sure it's not awkward, I swear." He said, his voice low, almost pleading. 

You stared at him, meeting his gaze. After a long pause, you finally let out a sigh. "Fine... fine, I'll go." You mumbled, grabbing your phone to confirm in the group chat.

Mark's face broke into a wide smile, his eyes lighting up. "Thank you! You won't regret it. I'll make sure we have fun."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help smiling at his excitement. "You better." You muttered.

"So, I'm obviously staying the night, right? Where are my pajamas? I know I left them here somewhere." Mark said, standing up and stretching, grinning down at you.

"You always do this.” You laughed, shaking your head, getting up to retrieve them from the closet. As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you—lingering.

As you handed him his pajamas, his fingers brushed yours briefly. Mark smiled at you, softer this time, and for a moment it felt like the room had shrunk around the two of you, like the world outside didn't exist.

"Thanks." He murmured, looking at you with sparkling eyes. You held his gaze for a beat longer than usual, before turning away. 

"Yeah... no problem." You whispered, getting settled back onto the couch.

────୨ৎ────

"Y/n, are you ready? I'm here." 

You read the text from Mark, your phone screen glowing as you sat on the edge of your bed.

"No." you typed back quickly, slightly confused when he left you on read. A few minutes later you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and of course... Mark was standing there, a playful grin on his face.

"Dude, I seriously thought you flaked on me—" he said but paused, his eyes widening as they scanned you from head to toe. "Damn girl. We're going to an arcade, not a fine dining restaurant."

"Mark stop." You giggled, slipping on your shoes. "I'm just wearing a skirt and a shirt." You grabbed your bag and led him out the door.

"Yeah, but you look good though man. Like, really pretty and stuff like that" he stuttered awkwardly, a nervous smile creeping onto his face. Your own smile mirroring his. 

"Thank you Mark." you responded softly.

"Oh, and good news. Jaemin's not even gonna be there. He never responded." He added, glancing at his phone as you walked toward his car.

"That's a relief." You said, but the unease in your stomach didn't completely fade. You climbed into the passenger seat, hoping tonight would go smoothly.

When you and Mark arrived at the arcade you both walked in with smiles, ready to see your friends, but the moment your eyes scanned the room, your smile dropped. There sitting at the table, laughing with the group, was Jaemin.

Your heart dropped. Out of instinct, you  grabbed Mark's hand, holding it tightly to stop any emotion from showing on your face.

"Sorry- " You muttered, quickly pulling your hand away. It wasn't like it was the first time you'd held Mark's hand, but tonight, it felt different. More... loaded. Before he could respond you spoke again, your voice filled with nervous frustration.

"Mark you said he wasn't gonna be here." You whispered, glancing at him with betrayal.

"I didn't know!" Mark raised his hands in defense, looking at you with those endearing, soft eyes. 

"Listen, no matter what, I promised you a good time, and I'm sticking to that. That's what's gonna happen." He gave you a reassuring smile and before you could say anything he slid his hand into yours again, this time intentionally.

You blinked at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread through your chest as his thumb lightly brushed your knuckles. 

"Okay?" He asked, his eyes locking with yours.

"Okay." You nodded, squeezing his hand back.

As Mark led you toward the group, you couldn't help but notice the heat of his hand still in yours. Your friends greeted you with excited smiles, but your eyes immediately moved to Jaemin, sitting there with a bitter expression, his gaze on your joined hands.

"Oooo, what's this?" One of your friends teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she eyed the two of you.

You and Mark stayed silent, sharing an awkward smile, but neither of you let go.

"I thought you were with Jaemin?" Someone else asked, causing the group to agree in confusion.

"We—" you began, but quickly cut yourself off. 

"He broke up with me." You said, your voice a bit too smug as you shot a look directly at Jaemin, everyone's attention shifting to him.

"And it looks like you didn't have trouble finding a replacement quickly, huh?" Jaemin responded coldly, crossing his arms.

"Mark has been my best friend for years, so was it really a replacement when he was here first?" You retorted.

The group fell into silence, all eyes falling between you and Jaemin, waiting for his reaction. 

Jaemin scoffed, his lips turning into a sarcastic smirk.

"Oh right. 'Best friends'. "Funny how 'best friends' always seem to turn into something more the second things end, huh? Makes me wonder what was really going on before we broke up." He said, his tone mocking.

Mark's body tensed beside you, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. You could feel the anger radiating from him, but before he could speak, Jaemin interrupted him.  "I guess you're really good at keeping your 'options' open aren't you?" 

You took a sharp breath, eyes dark as you looked at him. "Another excuse? Was Minecraft not enough?"

The room erupted into quiet whispers, and one of your friends spoke up, "Wait dude... you broke up with her over Minecraft?"

Jaemin's smirk fell for a second. 

"It was more complicated than that." He started, but before he could finish someone else interrupted.

"Guys! Can we please just eat and play games like we planned instead of focusing on Mark and Y/n's new relationship?" A loud voice broke through the tension, trying to steer the conversation away.

"Sounds like a plan." Someone else laughed, trying to ease the mood, but as the group prepared to move to the arcade section, Jaemin spoke once again. 

"Notice how they didn't deny it though."

"DUDE, CMON." Someone yelled, dragging Jaemin away from the both of you. 

Inside the arcade the atmosphere lightened as your friends scattered to play games. The flashing lights and music filled the room helping you momentarily forget the earlier tension. 

You and Mark stuck close together, trying out various games, but even in the chaos of flashing neon lights and arcade noises, you couldn't shake the way you felt whenever Mark looked at you. At one point, Mark pulled you toward a basketball shooting game.

"Think you can beat me?" He teased, tossing a ball between his hands.

"Of course I can." You laughed, stepping up to the machine.

The game began and you focused on shooting as many baskets as possible, the competition between you heating up. When the game ended, Mark had won by just a few points, but you noticed he seemed more distracted by you than by the score. 

"Guess I'm still the champion." He said, leaning in closer as he spoke, his voice lower than usual.

"Whatever."  You rolled your eyes, but smiled, nudging him playfully. 

"You only won because I was distracted."

"Oh yeah? By what?" He asked, tilting his head slightly, his stare intense.

You paused, looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"By... everything." You mumbled, feeling a little hot.

"Well, you're not the only one." He smiled, cheekbones prominent as he looked at you with sparkling eyes.  

"Uh huh, says the all time champion." You chuckle, placing your hand on his chest, trying to push him away before the moment was interrupted. 

"Hey you two! Stop flirting and come play air hockey with us." 

"Stop!" You whine jokingly, looking back at Mark, realizing your hand is still resting on his chest. 

"Oh oops." You both laughed awkwardly, his cheeks flushed. But as you followed your friends, you couldn't help but feel like something had shifted between you and Mark... well... maybe not? You don't know, it doesn't matter anyways. 

The night had gone better than you expected, and you found yourself laughing with Mark as you headed to the car. The tension from earlier with Jaemin had mostly melted away.

"See, I told you we were gonna have fun." Mark said, glancing over with a smile that made your chest feel warm.

"Yeah I had a good time. I'm glad you convinced me to come out." You giggled, leaning back in your seat, grinning to yourself, but the moment faded as Mark went quiet, the silence lingering, thickening the air between you.

"So... when are we gonna tell them that we're actually not dating?" Mark asked, breaking the silence. His tone was light, but something about the question made your grin fall as you stared out the window.

"They'll figure it out eventually." You replied, turning to face him with a forced smile, trying to keep things casual.

Mark hummed in response, his focus shifting back to the road, but the easy vibe from earlier was gone, replaced by something heavier, something unsaid. 

He pulled up to your apartment complex, the car engine humming softly as you prepared to get out.

"Thanks for tonight Mark. I'll see you later." You said, trying to sound optimistic.

"Wait—don't you want me to walk you in?" He asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

"No thanks. I’m good, seriously." You said, smiling again, his sad eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. Something about the way he was looking at you made your heart do a weird flip, that look in his eyes.

"See you later boyfriend." You teased trying to break the tension before the air could get even weirder.

"See you later girlfriend." Mark smiled, even though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

As you shut the car door and walked up to your apartment, a strange mix of emotions welled up inside you. You felt confused—happy maybe?—but also kind of hollow. 

Something about the whole night left you unsettled. You collapsed onto your couch, trying to make sense of it, when you heard a knock at the door, startling you.

You opened it to see Mark standing there again, biting his lip nervously.

"Mark. What do you want?" you joked, even though a small part of you meant it.

"Can I talk to you real quick?" He asked, stepping inside without waiting for an answer. The look in his eyes was different now, more serious.

"Yeah, sure." You said, sitting down beside him on the couch. 

"What's going on?"

"It's nothing super serious, but... hear me out?" He looked like he was bracing himself for something, and you nodded, feeling the shift in the air. "Maybe we should, like... act like we're dating for real. You know, like fake date." he stuttered on his words, his eyes flicking nervously to yours. "To make Jaemin jealous."

"You want to fake date... to get back at Jaemin?" You blinked, caught off guard.

"He was definitely rattled tonight, you saw that." 

You just stared at him blankly.

"And he deserves it for how he treated you. Plus, it'd be easy right? We've been best friends forever, so it wouldn't even be weird." Mark continued, his words rushing out as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You couldn't help but laugh, scratching the back of your head. "Mark, this is a very... wild idea… so what, we're just gonna fake a big breakup later too?"

He waved that off, grinning. "Dude we'll deal with that later. Come on Y/n, this could be fun. And it's not like there's anything complicated between us—we don't like each other like that, so it's just, like, a fun game. Right?"

Your heart squeezed at that last part, the words hitting a little harder than you expected. No feelings? Nothing complicated? 

After a pause, you nodded. "Ok. Let's do it."

“Yes! This is gonna be awesome." Mark said, face lighting up as he grabbed your hands in excitement, his energy infectious.

You watched him for a second, trying to ignore how warm his hands felt holding yours, how his smile seemed to linger a little too long on his face.

"You seem a little too excited about this." You teased, trying to push aside the growing tension inside you.

"What can I say? Fake dating my best friend sounds kinda fun." He shrugged, a smile still on his face.

You raised an eyebrow, but before you could respond, you yawned, feeling the exhaustion from the night catch up with you. 

"Ok Mark. I'm tired, so you can, like... leave now." You said with a laugh.

Mark stood up, pretending to look hurt. "Wow, kicking your boyfriend out already. I want to break up."

You froze for a second, your eyes widening in shock. 

His face softened when he realized what he'd said. "Or... maybe not! Bye Y/n."

You rolled your eyes, shutting the door on him, but just as you started to walk away, you heard another knock. You opened the door again to see him grinning sheepishly.

"You didn't say bye back." He said, eyes twinkling.

"Bye Mark." You said. You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head.

As you closed the door for the second time, you stood there for a moment, your heart pounding a little faster than it should have been. You were in a fake relationship with your best friend now. Nothing could go wrong with that... right?

────୨ৎ────

The next few days passed in a blur and nothing major had changed on the surface, but there was an undeniable shift between you and Mark. You kept telling yourself it was just the fake dating thing that made everything feel... different, but now every time you texted or hung out, the words carried a weight they never had before.

That became clear the next time Mark showed up at your apartment. You were getting ready for another group hangout, some casual lunch with everyone—including Jaemin. Mark arrived early as usual, but instead of heading straight out, he lingered by the door.

"Do I look okay?" You asked, adjusting your outfit in the mirror. It was an innocent question, one you had asked him hundred times before, but this time, when he looked at you, his gaze lingered. 

"You look great." He said, his voice quieter than usual. 

His eyes traveled from your face, down to your shoes, then back up, locking on yours. Your stomach flipped, and you turned away, breaking the moment. You were just reading into things. That's all. 

"Thanks. You're not too bad yourself." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Mark chuckled, but it felt off, a little awkward. 

"Ready to go?" He asked, grabbing the keys from the counter.

As you stepped out together you couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing, something neither of you were saying.

Lunch with the group was surprisingly less tense than the last hangout. Jaemin was there, but he didn't cause any scenes, probably because the rest of the group was on high alert. You sat next to Mark as usual, and he played his part perfectly, but then there was a moment when the group had split up to order food. 

You and Mark were left alone at the table, the buzz of the restaurant fading into the background as you both sat there in silence.

"You're doing okay, right?" Mark asked, his voice softer than before.

"Yeah." You said, even though it felt like a lie. You weren't sure what "okay" even meant anymore.

"It's just weird, you know? Being around him like this."

Mark nodded, his hand resting on the table between you. You stared at it for a moment, then felt a sudden rush of warmth as his fingers brushed yours.

He didn't pull away.

Your heart thudded in your chest. You told yourself it was just part of the act—something to keep up appearances, but when you looked up and met Mark's eyes, there was a flicker of something real in them. Something unspoken, but heavy. You quickly looked away, pretending to check your phone. "Everyone's taking forever to order." You said, forcing a laugh.

Mark didn't say anything for a second, his fingers still brushing against yours, but eventually he pulled his hand back. 

"Yeah, they are." He said, his voice tight.

The rest of lunch passed quickly, the conversation flowing but your mind kept drifting to that moment at the table. You tried to push it aside—tried to focus on what you had agreed on, that this was just an act, but with every glance Mark threw your way, every small smile that seemed more genuine than playful, you felt that barrier between friendship and something more begin to crumble.

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting on the couch, replaying the day in your head. It wasn't like anything major had happened, but the tension between you and Mark was starting to feel impossible to ignore.

A text lit up your phone.

“Hey, you still up?”

You smiled, replying quickly.

“Yeah, what's up?”

“ I was just thinking... about earlier. Do you think we're doing a good job selling this whole "dating" thing?”

You paused, unsure how to respond. He was clearly still in "fake dating" mode, but for you... you didn't know what mode you were in.

“Yeah, I think it's going pretty well. Why?”

“Just making sure man. I don't want Jaemin or anyone thinking we're half-assing it.”

You stared at the message for a moment, the weight of what wasn't being said hanging between the lines. It would be so easy to just laugh it off, keep things as they were. 

But...

“You know, sometimes I forget we're faking it.”

The message sat there on your screen, your heart racing as you hit send. You didn't know what you were expecting—maybe a joke or some lighthearted reply to brush it all off.

But his reply came.

“Yeah. Me too.”

You stared at his message, your heart pounding harder now. The space between you had shifted again, but this time it felt like there was no going back.

────୨ৎ────

The next day you and Mark tried to go back to normal, pretending like nothing had changed after that conversation. It was easy enough at first. You had a study session planned and just like old times, Mark showed up with snacks and a hoodie that was two sizes too big. You sat cross legged on the floor, books sprawled out in front of you, Mark was on the couch, pretending to focus.

Every once in a while you'd catch him glancing at you, or you'd find yourself zoning out, staring at the way his hands fidgeted with the corner of a page. The atmosphere was different, and you both knew it.

Still, you didn't talk about it.

"So." Mark said, breaking the silence, "I was thinking we should do something tomorrow. You know, for the whole... fake dating thing." He fumbled with his words, like he was trying to find the right balance between casual and something else.

"Like another group hangout?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe…or just the two of us? We could go out and get coffee or something, act like we're on a date. Just to keep up the illusion."

A spark flickered in your chest, but you quickly pushed it down. It's just for the act, you reminded yourself. Nothing more. 

"Yeah, that makes sense." you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "We should probably post something too. You know, sell it on social media."

Mark nodded, a little too quickly. "Exactly. People will totally buy it if they see us together more."

There was an awkward pause, both of you knowing full well that you already spent nearly all your time together, but not willing to admit it. Instead, you focused on flipping through the pages of your textbook, hoping that the silence would swallow up the tension.

After a while Mark stretched out on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "It's kinda funny, isn't it?" He said, almost speaking to himself.

"What is?"

"How we've been best friends for years and no one ever thought we'd be more and now we're pretending to be something we never were."

You laughed lightly, but it felt forced. “Yeah…funny." You paused, tapping your pen against the edge of your notebook. "But like, it's not a big deal, right? I mean, we know it's just fake."

"Right." Mark echoed, but there was something in his tone that made it sound like he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You glanced up at him, catching his eyes for a split second before he quickly looked away, his face flushing just slightly. There it was again—that weird tension that made everything feel more complicated than it should be.

"Yeah…" You said, forcing a smile, "just fake."

The words hung in the air between you like an unspoken agreement, both of you clinging to the safety of that label ‘fake’. As long as you called it that, you could deny everything else.

Later that evening, after Mark had left and you were alone in your apartment, you couldn't shake the strange feeling that had settled over you. Your mind kept wandering back to the way he'd looked at you—like there was something he wanted to say, but didn't.

You weren't supposed to think about Mark like this. He was your best friend. That's all he’s ever been, and that's all this was supposed to be. You were fake dating to make Jaemin jealous, to get back at him, not because you actually had feelings for Mark. That would be ridiculous, but despite how much you tried to convince yourself, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that kept whispering otherwise, it always did.

You shook your head, tossing your phone onto the couch. This was just a weird phase where you were overthinking everything because of the fake relationship. You and Mark would go back to normal soon, and all this awkward tension would fade away. It had to.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen if it didn't.

────୨ৎ────

The next day, you and Mark met up for coffee, just like he had suggested. It was supposed to be casual—a fake date to keep up appearances. But the second you walked into the café together, the mood shifted.

Mark held the door open for you, his hand brushing against yours as you walked past him and it sent a jolt through you that you tried to ignore. He was just being polite.

Friendly.

Nothing more.

You ordered your drinks and sat by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on the table. Mark was fidgeting again, playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, his knee bouncing up and down under the table.

"You're nervous?" You teased, trying to break the tension.

"What? No I'm not." He said quickly, but his knee stopped bouncing, and he gave you a sheepish grin. "Okay, maybe a little. I'm just not used to... this."

"Neither am I." You admitted, stirring your coffee aimlessly.

"But it's fine. We've got this."

"Yeah. It's just pretend anyway.” Mark said, his eyes darting to the window, avoiding yours.

"Right. Just pretend."

But as the conversation drifted to other topics and you both laughed like you always did, the line between pretending and something more blurred again. You weren't supposed to feel this comfortable with him. You weren't supposed to notice how his eyes crinkled when he smiled or how your heart sped up when he laughed at one of your dumb jokes.

You weren't supposed to feel like this was more than fake.

But you did.

And judging by the way Mark's gaze lingered on you a little too long when he thought you weren't looking, you had a feeling he was feeling the same. Neither of you said it, though. You both kept pretending. Because it was safer that way.

────୨ৎ────

You'd been feeling pretty good about the whole "fake relationship" situation. Things with Mark were comfortable, just like they always had been, and somehow playing this little game in front of your friends made everything seem almost... fun. It was easy with him. He was always easy to be around, but that changed when you spotted him with his ex.

It was by pure chance—coming out of a coffee shop with your hands full of iced drinks, you saw them together on the sidewalk. She was laughing at something he said, her hand brushing his arm lightly as they walked. Mark... he looked at her like he used to. Like she was the only person in the world. You felt your stomach twist painfully, a lump forming in your throat.

You didn't want to feel hurt. It was ridiculous, wasn't it? You were just pretending. This whole thing with Mark was fake. So why did it feel so real all of a sudden?

You swallowed hard, gripping the drink carrier a little tighter as you walked past them, pretending you didn't notice. Mark didn't even see you.

You were sitting back at home. Before you could spiral any further, your phone buzzed.

"Hey, wanna hang out later? 😊"

Your head lingered on what you saw earlier before you replied.

"Yeah, sure."

Later that evening, when you met up with Mark everything was still fresh in your mind. He greeted you with his usual wide smile, but you couldn't help but notice the slight hesitancy in his step as he approached.

"What's up?" He asked, nudging your shoulder lightly. "You seem quiet."

"I'm good. Just thinking." You responded, forcing a smile.

"Thinking too much, as usual." He giggled, giving you another playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a small laugh, but it felt hollow. You couldn't bring yourself to bring up his ex just yet. What were you going to say anyway? It wasn't your business. You and Mark were only pretending to be together, but as you walked, chatting about nothing in particular, the question was burning on the tip of your tongue.

"So... how was your day?" You asked casually, hoping he’d bring it up.

"Pretty chill. Just hung out with some people." He shrugged. “But now it’s better cause I’m with you.” He smiled, looking at you with those same sparkling eyes. 

And you kept up the act, laughing along, pretending it didn't bother you.

But it did.

That night, when you were alone, the uneasiness grew. You couldn't stop picturing them together. The way she smiled at him, how comfortable they looked. What really made you more uneasy was the fact that he hid it from you and acted like nothing happened earlier— makes you wonder how many times this has been happening.

The level of hurt you felt was immense, the person who was supposed to protect you from your feelings, made you hurt even more… and before you knew it, you were staring at your phone, hovering over Jaemin's name in your contacts.

You bit your lip, hesitating for just a moment before typing a message.

“Hey... can we talk?”

It felt strange reaching out to him after everything, but you weren't trying to get back together. You just wanted something to ground you, something familiar, someone who could remind you of who you were before everything got messy.

Jaemin responded almost immediately.

“Yeah. Want to meet up?”

Your heart raced as you stared at his text. Was this the right thing to do? You weren't sure, but the thought of seeing Mark with his ex again made you feel like you had to do something.

“Sure.”

You agreed to meet the next day, and you knew deep down that fixing things with Jaemin wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't erase the strange ache you felt watching Mark with someone else. But maybe, just maybe, it would help distract you from it.

At least for a little while.

────୨ৎ────

Ever since you spotted Mark with his ex something in you shifted. You tried not to let it get to you, tried to remind yourself that it shouldn't matter, but the hurt was there, like an ache you couldn't shake. It was hard enough pretending this fake relationship wasn't confusing your feelings more every day, and now this? 

The group meet up was supposed to be just another casual hangout, but this time you didn't feel like riding with Mark. After everything that had happened, especially seeing him with his ex, you weren't sure if you could sit in the car with him without it all bubbling to the surface. 

So, when he offered to pick you up, you quickly shot it down, saying you'd drive yourself. 

"Okay... cool." Mark said, sounding a little confused, but brushing it off. He didn't push it, and that was fine by you.

The arcade was buzzing when you arrived and you immediately spotted Jaemin. You hadn't expected things to be so easy between the two of you, but somehow they were. You weren't getting back together or anything, but there was a sense of comfort now. Your interactions became normal as you both slipped back into old habits—laughing, joking, sharing quick, familiar smiles.

You felt lighter, or at least you wanted to, but the second Mark walked in that fragile peace shattered. You could feel his eyes on you from across the room, the weight of his stare practically pulling you toward him, but you forced yourself to stay focused on Jaemin.

You barely acknowledged him. Every time he tried to speak, you turned to someone else, laughing a little louder, pretending everything was fine. You didn't trust yourself to talk to him, not with how confused and hurt you still felt.

Finally, Mark had enough, standing up and walking over to you. voice low as he asked "Hey, can we talk? Outside?"

You sighed, giving Jaemin a quick glance before standing up. "Yeah, sure."

The second you were outside Mark turned to you, his jaw clenched. "What's going on with you and Jaemin?"

"Nothing. We're fine now. What, is that a problem?" You crossed your arms, not wanting to do this, but knowing you couldn't avoid it forever.

Mark's brows furrowed, his voice rising slightly. "It kinda feels like it is. We're supposed to be... you know, close. And now you're acting like I don't exist... You've been ignoring me all night Y/n. And now you're good with him again?"

Your frustration finally bubbled over. "Why do you even care Mark? It's not like you cared when you were hanging out with your ex."

Mark blinked, caught off guard. "What? What are you talking about?"

"I saw you." You said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. "I saw you with her. You two looked pretty close."

He stared at you, eyes wide in shock. "Y/n, it wasn't like that. We were just talking. It didn't mean anything."

"When we started fake dating it wasn't just about making Jaemin jealous, was it? You wanted her attention too." You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.

Mark's eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by your words. "What? No Y/n, that's not—" he started, stumbling over his own thoughts. "It wasn't about her. I didn't- I thought we were both in on it, just... trying to move on." His voice softened, the uncertainty in his eyes betraying his attempt to seem sure of himself.

You shook your head, the sting of disappointment tightening in your chest. "That's the thing, Mark. It feels like you did choose her—again. Every time you get close to me, you pull back the second she's around." Your voice wavered, the hurt slipping out despite how hard you tried to keep it in. 

"What?" Mark asked, genuinely confused now, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated now. "But we're together, Y/n?" He said, almost as if he believed it himself.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. "Oh, now we're together? You didn't seem to be thinking about me when you were with her."

Mark's face twisted, frustration mixing with something else—something deeper. "That's not fair." He muttered, stepping closer. "You know it's not like that."

"Then what is it like Mark? Because I don't know what to think anymore. You were the one person I never thought I'd have to guard my heart from." You spoke, your voice softer now, but still filled with pain.

The air between you was thick with unspoken words, tension swirling in the space as Mark stood there, his gaze locked on yours. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from frustration to something softer, something vulnerable.

You tried to turn away, but he reached out, gently grabbing your wrist. "You don't have to guard your heart away from me... tell me how you feel."

You shook your head, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let you. "Mark, let's just—"

Before you could say anything else, he moved closer. Then, without another word, he leaned in.

His lips were on yours, urgent and desperate, like he was trying to make sense of everything the only way he knew how, and you let yourself fall into it. 

It was good… too good, and it made your head spin. It wasn't a soft kiss, not hesitant or uncertain. It was filled with the weight of everything you'd both been holding back—the confusion, the tension, the yearning that had built up over time. 

For a second, you let yourself melt into him, feeling his warmth, the way his hands gently cupped your face like he was scared you'd pull away, your hands gripping his shirt. For a moment, it felt right—like all the confusion, had led to this, but then reality hit you again, hard.

"You're so confusing." You whispered, pulling away from him. 

Without waiting for him to respond, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing there, the weight of the kiss still hanging in the air between you. 

You didn't look back, you couldn't. If you did, you weren't sure what would happen next.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on your couch, staring at the TV without really watching it, replaying the kiss with Mark in your mind. Your lips still tingled with his taste and your heart felt heavy with all the confusion. You didn't know what to think, what to feel. The tension between you and Mark had been building for so long, but the way it ended... his words still echoed in your mind.

A knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. Your heart raced. It was Mark, it had to be him. He would want to talk things through? Maybe he felt the same things you did. You hurried to the door hoping for some kind of resolution, but when you swung it open your heart sank.

Jaemin stood there, hands shoved in his pockets. "Hey." He said, glancing down at the ground, then back up at you with those familiar eyes.

"Oh it's just you..." You answered, you couldn't help but to sound a little disappointed, prompting Jaemin's eyebrows to raise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He giggled, before peeking inside "Can I come in?" 

You blinked, stepping back instinctively. "Jaemin... what are you doing here?"

He stepped inside, his presence filling the space with an awkward energy. "I wanted to talk." He said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I've been thinking Y/n, about us. I know things ended badly, but... maybe we made a mistake—I made a mistake. I miss you."

You froze, out of all possible times... 

"Jaemin..." You began, but before you could finish, there was another knock at the door.

Your heart leaped again, glancing at Jaemin, your stomach twisting. This time you knew it was Mark. You opened the door slowly, and there he was, standing on the other side, his expression brightening for a brief moment until his gaze flickered past you and landed on Jaemin. 

His face fell, the hurt in his eyes very visible as disappointment painted his face, the same disappointment you had when you saw him with his ex. Mark's mouth pressed into a thin line, his hands flexing at his sides.

"I... didn't know you had company." He muttered, stepping back, his voice thick with shame.

"Mark wait—" You started, but he shook his head, glancing between you and Jaemin.

"Looks like I'm interrupting something." he said, his voice low. "I'll leave you two to it."

Before you could say another word, Mark turned and walked away. You stood there, breathless, closing, but waiting, just incase he came back to give you a chance to explain.

"What the fuck is going on between you two?" Jaemin's voice cut through the silence. 

You turned back to him, looking numbly as you stayed silent.

"Weren't you just dating? What happened." He asked, obviously being unserious, giggling at his own comment. 

 You sighed, "We broke up." You murmured, opening the front door, signaling Jaemin to leave. 

"... Do you seriously like him?" Jaemin asked, looking at you with a face of disdain. 

You took a deep breath. "Jaemin get out."You said lowly, closing your eyes, trying to keep your composure as Jaemin made his way to the door.

Before he left out the door, he stopped, facing you, a smug look on his face as he raised his brow. "Can't say that I'm surprised, I've had a feeling even before we got together." He scoffed, rolling his eyes before walking out the door. 

You shut it behind him, taking a deep breath before sliding down the door, your legs too weak to stand. Everything you held in, what begged to be let out finally released. You sobbed heavily, wondering where it all went wrong. Your heart ached, feeling like it was torn out your torso and ripped in half, feeling the weight of the emptiness that settled in after Mark left. It made you feel more lost than you had before. How did you lose everything all at once? Whatever was there with you and Mark, it felt like it slipped away, just when it had started to feel real.  

────୨ৎ────

The days that followed your argument with Mark were unbearable. You hadn't spoken to him since, and that silence pressed down on you more than you had expected. You were heartbroken, not just because of the confusion and hurt surrounding the kiss, but because you missed him— like a lot. You missed the effortless connection, the late night talks and sleepovers, and the way things used to be before everything got complicated.

You stopped going out with the group, preferring to stay at home alone. Every notification from the group chat was a reminder of all the things that went wrong. You couldn't face Jaemin or anyone really, not with Mark lingering in your thoughts, every memory of him reopening the wound. From what you heard Mark wasn't showing up to anything either. It wasn't just you who was isolated, but that only made things worse. He had been your rock, your best friend, and now you didn't know where you stood with him at all. It felt like you two ruined each other. 

You thought about texting him, just something small to break the silence, but every time you opened the message app, you'd freeze. What would you even say? How could you explain the mess in your head when you couldn't even understand it yourself?

You were curled up on the couch, staring blankly at the TV, the sound nothing more than white noise in your brain. Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, but you ignored it, not having the energy to engage with anyone. The loneliness was suffocating, but reaching out felt impossible.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You sat up, your heart immediately quickening. For a moment you wondered if it could be him, but you quickly brushed that thought aside. Why would he show up now, after all this time? You shuffled to the door, your fingers hesitant on the handle before pulling it open.

And there he was... Mark. He stood there, looking hesitant, his hands stuffed in his pockets. For a second, neither of you said anything, the staggered memories of the past few weeks hanging in the air.

"Mark..." you breathed, your voice shaky. You weren't sure if it was relief or anxiety.

He gave you a small, awkward smile. "Hey Y/n."

The awkward tension stretched between you, and you struggled to form words. Mark looked down at his feet, then back up at you with a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

"Uh, Jaemin... Jaemin told me something the other day." He stated, and your stomach dropped at the mention of his name. "He said that... you liked me. Like, really liked me."

You froze, your heart slamming in your chest. He knew...

You were gonna kill Jaemin the next time you saw him, what is his problem with you, he's acting like you're the one who broke up with him, but before you said anything, Mark spoke again, his eyes widened, as if realizing he'd let the truth slip out too soon. 

"Shit. I—I wasn't supposed to say that." He stammered, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

"I mean, it's not like I didn't already... feel like something was there, but it's just—look, can I come in? We need to talk."

You stood there for a moment, stunned and unsure of how to respond. The vulnerability of having your feelings laid bare like this was terrifying, but there was a desperation in Mark's eyes that tugged at your heart. You stepped aside, nodding slightly, and he walked in, his presence both a comfort and a source of even more confusion.

You closed the door behind him, trying to brace yourself for whatever was about to happen. The silence felt heavy as you both sat down, neither knowing quite how to begin.

Mark's gaze softened as he looked at you, and when he spoke, his voice was quiet but sincere.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. For everything."

────୨ৎ────

The silence between you and Mark stretched on as you both sat there, the weight of all the unsaid words finally crashing down. Your heart was pounding and you could barely bring yourself to look at him. There had been so many moments, so many times when you wanted to tell him the truth, but fear had always kept you from doing it, but now, with him sitting right there, you knew you couldn't hide anymore.

Mark exhaled, his leg bouncing with nervous energy. He opened his mouth to speak, then stopped like he didn't know where to begin. You couldn't take it anymore, the tension building, the raw ache inside your chest that had been growing for weeks. You swallowed hard, finally speaking. 

"I've always liked you Mark." You said, your voice trembling. His eyes snapped to yours, wide with surprise. "I've liked you for so long... but after the first time, after you chose her I had to move on. I couldn't sit around waiting for something that was never going to happen."

Mark's brows furrowed, like he was trying to process your words. "Wait... what do you mean?"

"Mark—" You giggled, but it came out more as a sigh. "I gave up when I realized you didn't like me back. That's what hurts the most. I've spent so long hiding how I feel, pretending that I was fine being your friend when all I wanted was for you to look at me the way you looked at her." You said, looking down, fidgeting with your fingernails.

"But Y/n... I did like you. Like a lot. I thought you and Jaemin were—" He stopped, fumbling for words. "I didn't think I even had a chance with you."

You let out a laugh. "You didn't think you had a chance? Mark, I've been right here, the entire time. You're the one who didn't see me. Or maybe you just didn't want to."

"That's not true," Mark said quickly, his eyes full of regret. "I saw you, Y/n. I've always seen you, but I thought you didn't think of me in that way. That's why I got with her and when we broke up, you and Jaemin started dating."

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze. "I love Jaemin," you admitted, your voice quiet. "But I can't lie and say that he wasn't a distraction... from you." You said, turning to him. 

Mark seemed to flinch at your words, like they hit him deeper than he expected. "A distraction?" He repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded. "It was easier, you know? To focus on Jaemin and have a crush on him instead, to tell myself that I'd moved on, but every time I saw you with her, every time you chose her, it broke something inside me. I couldn't take it anymore."

Mark's face twisted with emotion, a mix of sorrow and frustration. "I never meant to choose her over you, Y/n. I didn't even realize that's what I was doing. You were always the one I went to, the one I trusted. But I was an idiot, and I didn't see what was right in front of me."

The room was heavy with your words as you sighed, trying to push past the knot tightening in your chest. "It's ok. I guess it doesn't matter anymore. I'm glad we cleared the air so we can go back to being friends like we used to be."

You gave him a small smile, hoping it would ease the tension, but the moment the words left your lips, you could sense a shift in the air. Mark stiffened beside you, his body language betraying the discomfort your words had caused. He stared at you for a long, quiet second, and something in his gaze made you nervous. His usual easy going smile was nowhere to be seen, replaced instead with an expression that was difficult to read.

The room fell into a thick, uncomfortable silence. His leg was bouncing restlessly, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve, like he was desperate to say something, but couldn't m find the words.

"But—" he mumbled, biting his lip nervously as his gaze remained on anything but you.

You blinked at him, confusion rippling through you. "But what?" you asked softly, your voice filled with curiosity and a bit of hope. You felt your heart rate pick up as you waited, suddenly aware of how close he was sitting.

Mark hesitated, his leg bouncing even faster now. He was clearly battling with himself, trying to decide if he should let the words out or hold them in. Finally, he took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to be your friend."

Your heart stopped. For a moment, you were certain you had misheard him. Your mind raced to process what he had just said, but the confusion only grew stronger. "Well then... I guess we're done here, aren't we?" you replied, your voice cracking as the emotions bubbled up.

Mark's eyes widened in panic, and for the first time, he looked genuinely shaken. He swallowed hard, trying to gather himself. "No, that's not what I mean." He said quickly, his hand reaching out slightly toward you but then pulling back before he made contact.

You tilted your head, watching him as his leg bounced even faster, his fingers now anxiously twisting his sleeve. His lips parted as if to say something, then closed again. The tension in the air was unbearable.

Finally, Mark's voice broke the silence, low and trembling. "I want to be more than friends Y/n..."

Your breath hitched. You weren't sure you had heard him correctly at first. Is Mark finally saying the thing you had waited to hear for so long? You stared at him full of disbelief, searching his face for any sign of a joke or hesitation. But there was none—his expression was completely serious.

He avoided your gaze, clearly nervous as he spoke again, his voice quiet. "I like you a lot Y/n. Even after all this time, I still do. I never stopped... I just—" He let out a shaky breath and finally looked you in the eyes.

"Do you still... like me?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible, and for the first time, you saw fear behind his eyes—fear of rejection, fear of ruining whatever was left between you.

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn't speak. Your feelings, the ones you had buried for so long, were rising to the surface again. The air thick with tension, you could hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you searched for the right words.

Finally, you nodded, slowly at first, then faster. "I do... I do still like you...so much." You whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you felt relief, like you were finally free of the weight that had been pressing down on you for so long.

Mark's face lit up at your words, his eyes shining with disbelief. He looked like he could hardly believe what he was hearing. 

"You do?" he asked, his voice full of hope and vulnerability.

You nodded again, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I've always liked you Mark. Even when I tried to move on, even when I was with Jaemin... it was always you."

Mark's breath hitched, reaching out, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was hesitant, like he was afraid you might pull away, but you didn't. You laced your fingers with his, holding onto him like you were afraid to let go.

"Do you... do you want to be with me?" he asked, his voice trembling as his hand tightened around yours.

Your lip trembled, and you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. This was everything you had ever wanted, everything you had dreamed of. But now that it was here, it felt overwhelming.

Instead of answering with words, you pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around him as you buried your face in his shoulder. His scent was familiar, comforting, and you held onto him like you were gonna lose him.

Mark's arms wrapped around you just as tightly as he held you close. For a minute, neither of you said anything, just holding each other in silence.

Finally, you pulled back, cupping his face in your hands as you looked into his eyes, your heart was pounding in your chest.

"Yes," you whispered, a smile breaking across your face as you leaned in, your lips brushing against his. "I want to be with you."

Before he could respond, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that felt like it was years in the making. His lips were soft against yours, warm and gentle.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender. For the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right. There was no pretending, no hiding. It was just you and him, finally together, finally where you were supposed to be.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and a little dizzy, you looked at him with a smile. "We finally have each other, for real this time." You whispered. 

Mark smiled back at you, his eyes full of love and warmth. "Yeah..." he said softly, pulling you close again. "We do."

────୨ৎ────

The evening was filled with laughter, You and Mark were sitting close, his arm casually draped over the back of your chair, a soft smile never leaving his face as he glanced at you every so often.

The group had decided on a night in, just movies, snacks, and a lot of catching up. It felt like old times again, but better—because this time, you had Mark by your side in a way you'd never had before. Every time your hands brushed, every shared glance, you felt your heart flutter. 

Jaemin, of course, wasn't letting the night pass without teasing. He smirked at the two of you as he leaned back into the couch. "Look at them" he rolled his eyes playfully, nudging someone beside him. "Lovebirds. It's like they've been together all this time. Who would've thought?"

You laughed, rolling your eyes but feeling no need to defend yourself this time.

Mark chuckled, his thumb brushing your arm lightly. "Man, it took us long enough."

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, pretending to be shocked. "Took you long enough? More like I had to shove you two together. Where's my matchmaking credit?"

The group laughed, and for a moment, everything just felt light, but the teasing wasn't quite over.

"So, Jaemin…" one of the others piped up, a mischievous grin spreading across their face. "You've been all about these smart remarks tonight... anything you want to tell us?"

Jaemin's face immediately flushed. "W-What? Me? Nah I'm just here for the drama, you know that." He said, waving it off.

"Sure…" The smirk on their face grew even wider. "Except, we've noticed you've been spending an awful lot of time with someone lately."

You perked up at that, exchanging a glance with Mark. She sat quietly on the other side of the room, raising her eyebrows in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. 

Jaemin opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He was speechless for once.

Everyone burst into laughter. Jaemin couldn't stop himself from cracking a smile as he shook his head in defeat. "You guys are unbelievable."

Mark leaned over, whispering in your ear, "Guess we're not the only ones who needed a push, huh?"

“Mark Ive been known about it.”  You grinned, speaking purposely loud so everyone could turn to you. 

“How?” Jaemin asked, raising his eyebrow as everyone looked at you with questioning eyes. 

“She was the only one who wasn’t curious about why Me and Mark were holding hands when I was still with Jaemin. She knew about the break up before any of you knew.” You answered causing everyone to raise their eyebrows in realization.

“Dude… wait you’re right.” Mark added, looking at you with a small smile. 

“Oops…” Jaemin responded, everyone laughing at the squeak in his voice. 

As the night carried on, you found yourself taking little moments just to breathe in the atmosphere, to hold onto this feeling.

Every smile he gave you, every gentle touch, was like a stitch pulling the pieces to your heart back together. The pain you'd carried for so long was fading. Mark was helping you become whole again.

For the first time in a long time everything felt right and as you sat there, surrounded by laughter and love, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And as you looked around the room—at the friends who had stuck with you, at the boy who had once been your closest friend and was now so much more, you realized something.

You were finally happy.

Oh yeah… and his ex left the friend group! Xoxo

[lina-lovebug]

I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, FINALE

Background: The future heir of Hell is on the way! Alastor has his doubts about being a good father and Lucifer is losing his mind.

_ _ _

(Y/N) Morningstar is due any day now!

That dreaded due date was getting closer and closer and honestly, Alastor didn't know how to handle it.

Of course, he was happy when he found out that his beloved was pregnant. From what he knew, sinners couldn't reproduce! But from a brief (while crying) explanation from Lucifer, (Y/N) is extremely fertile and this could continue happening or just be a one time thing.

Honestly, it broke Alastor seeing her miserable. Her swollen hoofs, going days without sleep because of their spawn kicking up a storm, and not to mention the crying. It didn't bother him that she became much needier, as he was happy to give her all the hoof rubs and cravings she desired.

Alastor felt bad because he hears her confide in Charlie, "honestly, I'm not sure I want to do this again. It feels like my body doesn't belong to me."

He's heard that some pregnant women feel that way, but the way her voice broke when she said it.

He'd never touch her again if she asked.

"Need anything, mon cher?" Alastor asked as she waddled to the bathroom.

"No, but thank you," She smiled. He had been so attentive and it made this pregnancy a bit more enjoyable.

(Y/N) hated herself. Not because she hated their child, no, but because she hated how she felt. She hated that she wasn't enjoying her pregnancy like so many other mothers, and hated how she felt like a prisoner in her own body.

But today: she'd be free.

"ALASTOR!"

A scream awoke the half asleep Radio Demon and he instantly appeared by her side, "what happened?! Are you okay?!"

"I think my water broke last nigh-ah! I'm having contractions!"

The baby was coming.

THE FUCKING BABY WAS COMING.

He instantly got them to the hospital, all while waking up the entire hotel. Vaggie shook Charlie awake, Husker threw a bottle at Angel Dust, and Niffty was frantically killing any bug she saw.

"MY BABY! WHERE'S MY LITTLE PUMPKIN?!"

Lucifer was panicking more than Alastor.

"Oh, my sweet pumpkin!" Lucifer ran to her side as she groaned at the contractions, her horns peaking in and out every time pain lashed through her body.

"Dad, it hurts."

"Where are the scrubs?! I need-!"

"Dad, isn't it the father who's supposed to get scrubs?" Charlie questioned nervously.

"But my baby needs me!"

"What I need is everyone to get the fuck out!" (Y/N) screamed, completely overwhelmed by all of it. Charlie dragged their dad out of the room, and Alastor stayed.

"I'm sorry," She began to cry, feeling horrible about yelling at him.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my sweet girl," His radio voice broke momentarily as he held her hand, "all this pain will be over and we can finally hold our child."

"I already feel like such a bad mom," She cried, "I'm supposed to love being pregnant, but I fucking hate it."

His heart ached for his sweet love. She was in constant pain but hated herself for it.

"I'd never lay another hand on you if it meant you'd never feel like this again," He confessed.

"I'll cut off anyone's hands who touch you."

She smiled at that, "I think. . .I think I'm done after this little one. Definitely need to find out if I can stop being so fertile."

But just as things were calming down, her hand tightened his, and another wave of contractions came. It continued like this for an hour, and with a few more pushes, their child was born.

And even though Lucifer tried breaking into the room, he kept away for a little while longer.

"It's a girl?" Alastor asked.

"Yes. Congratulations!"

"Oh, she's so precious," (Y/N) looked at their daughter, now resting in her arms. She had two small deer horns poking out of her soft head, a ruffle of red hair to go along with it.

"I will give you all the demon meat you desire," Alastor felt satisfied when he looked at his daughter, and felt a pang of happiness within him.

"I think I know what her name is, Alastor," she had been snooping around and found a name from his past, which would make her future husband all the more joyful.

"And what's that, my dear?"

"Manon," His smile faltered.

It was his mother's name.

He looked upon his daughter as she handed him over, her eyes opening to see the Radio Demon - her father.

"It's perfect," He smiled.

"Manon Morningstar."

When Alastor looked at her, all his doubts faded. He remembered how his mother doted on him, loving him and always being his number one supporter and just new that he would do the same for her.

"Can we come in?" Charlie asked carefully with Lucifer peaking in.

(Y/N) nodded and in came Vaggie, Charlie and Lucifer. Lucifer held two giant bouquets of roses, setting them on a table.

"Oh, she's adorable!" Charlie grinned.

"Would you like to hold her?" (Y/N) asked, and her sister happily accepted. The small demon wasn't fussy about being in her arms, just staring with curious eyes.

"Vaggie?"

Her eyes widened, "oh? Me? Uh, I mean, I don't know, I've never-"

"You'll be fine," before she could contest any further, Vaggie was holding Manon. Manon babbled at her, spit dribbling from her mouth as her hand reached up and pulled her hair.

"Okay! My turn!" Lucifer snatched his granddaughter away, staring at the baby with a happy-go-lucky smile.

"Oh you're so precious! I think you'll love duck's! In fact, it's your first toy," He squeaked a small rubber duck with wings in her face, and she began to cry.

"No, no, no, no! Please don't hate me! I love you!"

"I think mommy needs some rest, and Manon is hungry," Alastor scooped back his daughter, and Vaggie dragged Lucifer out as he cried over the fact that he is convinced his granddaughter hates him.

"She's perfect," (Y/N) sighed as she begun to feed upon her, and Alastor gave them both a kiss on their foreheads.

"You're perfect."

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.3 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, fluff, 2000 rom com vibes, making out, flirting. drinking, swearing, crying, sweet pining Jungkook, Jungkooks past comes up (boooooo), ex situationship thingsss, its a sweet chapter and they make out and I love it, legit the easiest chapter I have written so far ❥word-count: 10.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Day 3

“And you really believe this guy is going to work for this?” Yoongi said, looking over your notes and layout of the entire plan you had.

“Absolutely sir.” You nod. 

It was the Tuesday following you and Jungkook’s date. You two had gotten some dinner and then you went home. You tried not to let that text ruin your mood but it did bring you down for the meal. You and Jungkook just talked more about what you do and things you liked. Just easy conversation and sharing social media, small things that you could mask your disappointment with and give cheerful and in depth answers. 

That text sucked to see. It sucked to see that he made this promise to be serious but he was just playing you. To be fair, you didn’t know him. It was your first date and he didn’t owe you anything. It would just make this easier. 

"Already past the first date. You’re jumping in head first." Yoongi mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what’s next?"

"The plan is to keep things moving. I only have thirty days, so I wanted to start strong. The first date was just to break the ice. Now, I'm aiming to stay in touch throughout the weeks—get more involved and annoying to make sure I stay on his radar." 

Yoongi chuckled. "And what does annoying entail in this case?"

You grinned, feeling a mischievous spark. "I was thinking some things like being a little too clingy. Getting a bit too personal too soon. Social media stalking, maybe even acting overly sensitive to anything he says about 'dating' or 'us.' Just... trying to inch my way into his daily life, so he can’t quite shake me off. Then next week I will take things to the next step."

Yoongi nodded in approval. "I like it. Thorough and unexpected, just what we want. Let’s round back around next week and check-in. We’ll go over your progress and adjust as needed. You’re off to a good start."

You gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, sir."

With a wave of his hand, “Now go write, be amazing.” Yoongi dismissed you, and you returned to your desk, your mind already spinning with ideas. You were ready to dive into this full force, but there was one small snag, a small but persistent worry. You’d sent Jungkook a quick text yesterday, just a light “good morning” and a note about enjoying the date, but there hadn’t been a reply yet.

It wasn’t a big deal but already not responding to a text after a whole day was not sitting well with you.

Settling yourself down into your chair, that small disappointment from seeing that text on Jungkook's phone was still nagging at you. Your friends had warned you not to get attached, to keep things light, but you’d ignored them. They called this from a million miles away and you, like an idiot, let your guard down like always. 

Well, not this time. This was just a job. No more emotional slip-ups. 

“Damn it, I’m a writer.” You mumbled under your breath. “This is just research. He’s just a random guy.”

With renewed determination, you opened your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as you drafted the first section of your article. Reliving the details of your first date, you kept it light and short because this wasn’t about how the first date went great, it’ll be about everything that happens now. You had your plan ready for action.

You were finally hitting a flow, words forming exactly as you wanted, when you heard footsteps stop just outside your cubicle. 

“Special delivery!” Ann, one of the front-desk clerks, appeared with a bright smile, holding a small bouquet. "Someone’s got an admirer!"

She set down a small bouquet of sunflowers. The choice of flower surprised you most of all, you loved sunflowers. They were tied together with a purple ribbon and card attached to the end. Opening it, “A little bit of sun for a rainy first date. Thank you for listening to my fish facts. JK.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Ann cooed, lingering a moment to admire the flowers. She shot you a wink before heading back to the front, and you tried to keep your reaction composed.

You couldn't help but feel that small spark of joy, despite yourself, as you read the card. The sunflowers, your favorite, were unexpected and so charming. Tied with a cute ribbon that added a touch of thoughtfulness. You’d never been given flowers by anyone other than your parents and that one college boyfriend. Yet here they were, sent to your office, just for you.

If this had been any other situation, you’d probably be blushing and grinning like an idiot, falling head over heels way too fast. But the reminder of what you knew—what he was likely doing, the kind of guy he really was—kept you grounded. 

As you stared at the bouquet, lost in thought, the telltale squeak of a chair wheeling over caught your attention.

“Wow someone’s special.” Ronnie rolled right next to you. “Are those from who I think they are from?” 

 "Looks like it." You replied casually, flashing her the card. "Just… a little thank you gift."

Ronnie waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, just a thank you gift? The guy sent you your favorite flowers, after only one date. You sure you aren’t already planning your future house décor with him?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your laptop, brushing off the teasing. "Maybe," But the flicker of disappointment crept back in. "If he hadn't got that text on our date. Then maybe this would be a sweet gesture. There's no way I'm getting attached to someone who’s probably chatting up another girl at the same time."

Ronnie gave you a skeptical look. "You still haven’t told me what it said, just that you went from mildly hopeful to permanently sour about him. Especially after you begged me and Jin to let you pick another guy before the date even ended."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was… friendly , if you know what I mean."

“Oh, friendly friendly?” She echoed, her voice heavy with implication. She winced sympathetically. "I’m sorry."

You shook your head, swiveling to face her. "No, no. We’re not doing the whole pity party thing. No look at Y/N she got fooled by another asshole again. This is work.  I knew what I was signing up for with this guy, and it’s why we chose him. I can handle it."

Ronnie raised her brows. "Yeah, sure. You sound totally fine."

“I am fine.” You insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s all part of the assignment, right? A totally detached, unbiased observation. Think of me as an objective researcher.”

“Okay Dr. Detachment. How are you going to respond to these?” Ronnie glanced down to the flowers and then back up to you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but paused, glancing at the flowers. You already knew what you wanted to do, but still… you weren’t quite sure how to play it yet. 

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was still buzzing from his own bold move. He and Hoseok were walking down the street on their lunch break, and Hoseok eyed him suspiciously. Jungkook filled him on the details with a little too much spring in his step, never a way Hoseok had ever seen Jungkook act after a date. 

“So… the date went that well, huh?” Hoseok finally asked, giving Jungkook a smirk. “You’re practically skipping.”

“Hey, I am not. ” Jungkook grumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he filled Hoseok in on the date. It had gone smoother than he’d expected, and he couldn’t ignore that spark of excitement. 

Jungkook had done a little social media stalking when he spent the day with his parents yesterday. You used a sunflower in your bio and in a lot of your posts, so he took a guess that they may have been your favorite flower. It did take him a little tracking down though, since sunflowers were going out of season. 

Hoseok grinned, giving Jungkook an approving nod. “So… flowers and a corny note? You’re going for gold.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m hoping she liked it. She’s into romantic movies and such so I thought it would be a good gesture.” Plus it was a perfect opening note since sending flowers is another classic romantic movie troupe. “She should have gotten them by now.” He checked his phone yet again, his screen still frustratingly blank.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, “Does it bother you that she’s not immediately giving you all of her attention.” 

Jungkook snorted, “No.” He paused but the silence between them hung a little too long for Hoseok to be convinced, “Okay maybe a little.” 

Hoseok let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Wow. Didn’t know you were secretly a heartthrob under all that cool indifference. Who are you, and what did you do with Jungkook?"

“Shut up.” Jungkook muttered, fighting a smile as he looked away. “I’m just… giving this a real shot. Like I said I would.”

“And you’re stressing out over whether she liked your flowers or not.” Hoseok added, raising an eyebrow. “Must be a real first for you.”

Jungkook shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought I’d make an effort, alright? ” He glanced at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Why do I feel like the grand romantic gesture wasn’t entirely about the bet?” Hoseok chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s not because I’m actually dating her remember?” Jungkook replied, a little too quickly, then caught himself. 

“You know,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “there’s no law that says you can’t text her first, right? Might even make you seem… interested.”

Jungkook scoffed, his gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I don’t want to look desperate.”

“Dude, come on. Desperate is sending $50 sunflowers in November.” Hoseok replied, laughing as Jungkook scowled.

Jungkook sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I just really enjoyed spending time with her. It’s different.”

“So shoot her a text, lover boy.” Hoseok urged, hit Jungkook lightly on the back of the head. “All the smooth moves in the world won’t matter if she doesn’t know you’re into her.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed just as Hoseok delivered his advice, catching him off guard. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen. His eyes lit up, and a grin broke across his face—so wide and giddy that it almost unnerved Hoseok.

“Speak of the devil.” Jungkook muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

 Jungkook fumbles with his phone and steps off to the side to answer, “You’ve reached Sunflowers on the Go. How may I be of service?” 

You hum on the other end of the line in amusement, “So it’s the strangest thing. I got this delivery of sunflowers here on my desk but I don’t remember placing an order.” 

“Hmm, strange indeed.” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Turns out we only deliver to Composure magazine. No one else.”

What Jungkook wasn't aware of is you had him on speaker phone so Ronnie was also able to hear him. She brought her hand to her face at his cheesy responses. You also shook your head at absurdity. 

“Oh, is that so?” You teased. “Well, there was a little card attached… signed by someone named ‘JK.’”

“Yep, that’s the guy. Don’t know him personally, but he seems pretty cool.” Jungkook said, leaning into the joke. Looking over at Hoseok who was drawing hearts in the air around Jungkook, Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone named ‘JK’. Guess I’ll just have to throw these away then.” You play with the ribbon in your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s mean!” He protested, laughing. You laughed as well at his protest.

“Okay but seriously how did you know these were my favorite?” You touch one of the petals, sunflowers were definitely out of season so he had to go to some work to find really fresh ones. “Or was it just a lucky guess?”

“I may or may not have noticed a pattern on your socials.” His tone was sheepish and you just shook your head.

“Ah, so you were stalking me.” You nod, you notice Ronnie roll on over back to her desk. Coming back with her phone in hand. She was typing frantically.

“Maybe a little bit.” Jungkook let a beat pass, “I guess more importantly do you like them?” 

“They are very beautiful. Especially for this time of year.” You sigh, the gesture really was sweet. Might be fast for Jungkook to send flowers this early on but still sweet.

Jungkook let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had even been holding in, “I do have to confess something. I was hoping this would make an opening for me to invite you to dinner.” He shifted from side to side, “Well I would be making dinner.”

“Inviting me over? Wow, bold move. So soon.” You smile, Ronnie giving you a knowing look and you brushing her off. “Would I have to do anything?”

“I will take care of it all, I need to prove I can make a mean carbonara.” Hoseok gave Jungkook a look like he had no idea he had any cooking skill. “How about tonight?”

“I have plans tonight.” Which wasn’t a lie, you were going to work on some writing tonight. “How about Thursday?” 

“Perfect. You’re gonna be impressed, I already know it.” Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I’m sure I will.” 

With some goodbyes you both hung up the phone. You could suddenly feel your heart racing in your chest and you mentally scolded yourself. You needed to remember none of this was long term. Which Ronnie was taking the lead in reminding you about.

“For someone who claims to be totally normal about all of this, you sure are smitten.” She crossed her arms and eyebrow raised observing you, “He totally knew these would work on you.” 

“I am totally normal about all of this. This is perfect, we are going on a second date and I get to start implementing my plan. Everything is on track.” You say but Ronnie is looking back to her phone, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to find his Instagram.” She continued typing, not looking back up to you. 

“Oh he doesn’t have one.” You remembered from dinner on Sunday. It wasn’t abnormal for someone to not have one but Ronnie was surprised. 

“Boo, how am I supposed to dig up dirt on him?” Ronnie slumped down into her chair. You had actually done a little digging of your own the evening before though. 

“Pretty sure that’s my job and I already did. He has twitter but he doesn’t post often. He keeps a pretty low presence online so I wasn’t able to learn much that way.” You sigh, it was actually a little refreshing although it did leave you guessing. Makes it tough to be intrusive in the next steps of your plan. “By the way, can you cry on command?”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow at your request, “I don’t but I think we both know who might.” 

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 5

Thursday arrived, you and Jungkook spent the entire day texting back and forth just talking about whatever came to your minds. You found any excuse to ask him any random question. Send him random things you genuinely thought were funny. He also had something funny to say back or respond with. So you just let that be it, just texting and talking as much as possible. 

Jungkook had spent the night before doing a practice carbonara. Watching some guy on youtube walking him through the steps. It turned out pretty good but he knew he could make a better one tonight. He got really nice ingredients that hopefully would push it over the edge. He really wanted to make a good first impression with his cooking. He had no issue inviting you over so soon after knowing you, he felt really comfortable with you already. 

He hoped it wasn’t too forward, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

He had a bottle of mid tier white wine in his fridge and he also got a red one because he wasn’t sure what you would prefer. He also wasn't sure what would pair better with a carbonara. Jungkook dressed his table up all nice, it was nothing special but a candle classes it up a little bit. Classic romantic things. It felt somewhat awkward and made him cringe but also no one else was around to see his effort but you, and you would appreciate it. 

Or at least he hoped you would. 

He then heard a knock from his front door. He thought it was a little early for you to be here but he didn’t mind, he still was making the food and he could pour you a glass while you waited. He trotted to his door, a smile on his face as he swung the door open with some gusto, only to have his features fall. 

“Channel?” Jungkook's face twisted into a confused but unamused expression, as she brushed past him into the apartment. “Please, come on in.” He said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Channel looked like she was dressed for a night out and not for a very cold November evening at that. She had her hair curled and bouncy like it usually was, and the highest heel she could comfortably wear, clicking her way around Jungkook's apartment.

“I want my scarf back,” She had her arms crossed, strolling into the apartment with ease. She had been here enough times to know where everything was. “and since you won’t respond to my calls, here I am in person.”

“Okay, you couldn’t have texted me about this?” Jungkook let his front door close and followed after her through his apartment, as she tried to look under things and around furniture. 

She laughed bitterly, “Last I checked, you’ve been avoiding my texts as well.” She continued her hunt around his space. Jungkook getting a little peeved since he spent a good amount of time trying to make his space look good for your arrival. Your arrival which would be really soon and this was not a good look for a guy as you clocked as ‘unserious’.

"I kind of have a life, you know? I can’t answer every text you send.” Jungkook kept his eyes peeled for the scarf, more than ready for this encounter to end.

“Yeah, right.” Channel’s voice dripped with disbelief as she followed him further into the apartment, her arms crossed. “I could tell Hoseok was covering for you.” She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of the dining table set for two, a soft candle flickering in the center. Her expression turned suspicious. “And… what is that ?”

Jungkook looked back to the table and then back to her, acting like it’s always looked like that. “Nothing, now where is that scarf?”

“Your place is so… spotless.” She murmured, her eyes scanning every corner of his living room, taking in the lit lamps, the neatly arranged coffee table, and the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. “Setting a mood , are we?”

“I mean, I clean often. I’m not a slob.” He replied defensively, trying to wave off her assumptions, though he could see she was putting it all together, one detail at a time.

Channel sniffs the air for a moment and then stalks over to the kitchen, “You’re cooking? You don’t cook.”

“Whenever he hung out, cooking really wasn’t a part of the schedule.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, aware that he was pushing her buttons. “I cook all the time.” 

“Oh, I see.” She replied, her tone flat but her eyes flashing. She tilted her head, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. “So, who is she, then?” 

Jungkook sighed, not fighting her anymore, “No one, and she is coming over soon, let’s find your scarf so you can leave.” 

But Channel didn’t budge, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms tighter. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not brushing this off like that. Nice napkins, a candle? You set a damn table , Jungkook. What is this, some kind of date?” Her voice grew sharper with each word, anger and betrayal clear in her expression.

“That’s not really your business is it?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, he needed to get her out of here. 

Channel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not my business? You know what’s funny? All this time, I thought maybe we were building toward something real. And now, I see you’re doing that with someone else ?” She scoffed, her face hardening. “What, you just didn’t want this with me?”

Her words hung in the air, clear betrayal laced them. Him and Channel only had a sexual relationship, it’s what they agreed upon from the start. Sometime in there Channel developed some feelings for him and after a few months asked if they could take this more seriously. Jungkook wasn’t ready for that kind of step so they ended it all together. So now this all looks really bad. 

Except, he thought, it’s none of her business if he did change his mind. He never lied to her, and he was always very clear that he did not want a relationship. He really didn’t, and this thing with you, although a part of a bet, was something he was dipping his toes into. 

“Channel, that’s not it.” Jungkook said, sighing. “I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

Channel’s face twisted in anger, her voice rising as she spat, “Oh, I get it.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking around his place with fresh resentment. “I bet you’ll dump her as soon as you’ve slept together a few more times. Because that’s what you do , Jungkook.”

He clenched his fists, frustrated but trying to stay calm. “You know, I’ve had enough of this.” He said quietly, finally spotting the scarf stuffed into a seat cushion. He pulled it out, tossing it to her.

She caught it and threw it around her neck with a sneer. “So what is it about her, huh? What makes her so ‘special’ that suddenly you’re willing to commit ?” She shot him a glare, stepping closer. “Maybe I should stick around and meet this one-of-a-kind woman. See what all the fuss is about.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her toward the door. “You’re leaving, now.”

She jerked away from his touch, folding her arms defiantly. “What? Is she going to be here soon?” Her eyes gleamed with spite. “You don’t want her to know what you’re really like?”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, gathering his patience. “No. I think she would be an adult and actually talk with me about it.” He replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “Whatever she finds out—that’s for me to tell her and her to decide. So, goodnight, Channel.”

She stared at him, anger simmering as she pulled open the door, glancing back with an icy glare. “Screw you, Jungkook.” With that, she stormed out, letting the door slam behind her.

At the same time she opened the door, you were stepping out of the elevator and onto Jungkook’s floor. You spotted a girl storming down the hallway after yelling inside a doorway, as she passed you muttering a quick “Excuse me” without a second glance. You had an uneasy feeling about her, especially as she walked away from the very apartment number Jungkook had given you. You double-checked, confirming the number on your phone with the one she had just exited, and the sinking feeling intensified.

“Jesus Jungkook. At least have some class and spread out your dates so we don’t bump into each other in the hall.” You whisper under your breath, but you still had to go through with this as if you didn’t immediately feel a sense of dread. 

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. After all, you were here now, and nothing had technically happened to prove your suspicions. So you pushed them down, knocked on the door, and tried to keep your expression neutral, reminding yourself you were maybe a minute early—nothing too crazy.

The door opened after a brief pause, and Jungkook’s face shifted from guarded to bright relief when he saw you standing there. His lips curled into a wide, easy smile, like he was genuinely glad to see you. His hair was a little tousled, his shirt a snug, tucked into jeans that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. He looked relaxed, casually put together, which was somehow infuriatingly charming.

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice warm, stepping aside so you could enter. “Come on in.”

“Hi.” You replied, acting as if nothing felt off. 

You stepped past him, letting your eyes flick around the apartment, taking in the details—the tidy coffee table, a low hum of music playing through the room. He had a nice living room set up around a TV on the wall, the dining setup with an actual candle in the center. He’d put thought into this, that much was obvious. You couldn’t deny it was sweet, even if it left you slightly off-balance, considering what you’d walked past in the hallway moments ago.

“Okay now looking at it, the candle maybe was a little cheesy.” Jungkook cringed at himself looking at the little set up. You shake your head and wave him off. 

“No, I think it's adorable. You even got a scentless one so it doesn’t cover the smell of the food.” You take a seat at the table, “I’m prepared to be wow’d like you promised me.” 

“I unfortunately got a little bit delayed so I am not quite done yet.” Jungkook was shuffling his way back into the kitchen, “But make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” You smile as he rounds his way back into his kitchen, he watches you get back up and walk around his living space. Almost like he was waiting for approval. Luckily Channel hadn’t trashed the place. 

You took note of all of the little things he chose to have on display, some books, a few polaroid cameras and some polaroid's on the walls, as well as a record collection that was lined the side of the living room on some shelves. You thumbed through some of them to see what was available. Impressed with some of his picks, some similar to your own. His place wasn’t terribly big. Classic little bachelor pad. You had noticed he had chosen to keep what you could only assume was his bedroom door closed. 

It was something Jungkook thought way too hard about, if he left it open was it like saying he wanted to sleep with you tonight? Would it be way too forward? Or was closing it just as weird? Was closing it like telling you that he didn’t really want you in his space? He went back and forth and then opted to close it to maybe say he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, although he wouldn’t mind if it did. 

You on the other hand didn’t barely give it a thought other than noticing it. You picked up one of his polaroid cameras and brought it with you. You round your way back to his kitchen and stand off to the side watching him work. He was pretty zoned in on what he was doing, everything was really smelling great. You usually found it pretty hot if a guy could cook well. 

Jungkook took an opportunity to try some of his work and you took a photo right at the moment he took a bite, his eyes widened right at the moment he realized he'd been caught.

The picture came out and you set it down to develop. 

“I’m sure that will be super cute.” You laugh, setting down his camera as well. He laughs and you look over his shoulder to see how close he is to being done.

“Coming to inspect my work?” Jungkook glances to his side, seeing you peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was almost done cooking. 

“Maybe.” You tease, “I’m a sucker for people who can cook. I’m just… okay at it.” 

“Well,” Jungkook stops what he is doing and reaches for a drawer next to him pulling out a fork and twirling some of the noodles onto it. Then holding the fork out to you. “I’m ready for your final score.”

You paused. Debating if you should eat the food off the fork or if you should take the fork. Would it send the wrong message if you ate off it? Or was that exactly what he was doing? The fork wasn’t very close to your mouth but not crazy far. You decided to just take the fork from him and take the bite. 

It ended up being really good carbonara. 

“Oh my god.” You smile chewing, “It’s really fucking good. Ten out of ten.” 

Jungkook did a small fist pump to himself, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth hiding a smile. “I’ll admit, I did a practice run yesterday and it was just okay but I’m glad this one is good.” Jungkook then took a bite of it himself with another fork. Jungkook upon tasting his own food smacking his own forehead and leaning back. 

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction. 

You glanced at the polaroid on the counter picking it up to see if it had developed yet, it wasn’t fully done but you could see mostly what the picture would look like. You showed it to Jungkook and he smiled, “Ten out of ten picture. Best one of me yet.” 

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you absentmindedly put it in your pocket. 

“I’ll admit I’m wowed, to be fair I’ve only had carbonara like one other time.” You lean against one of his kitchen counters watching him as he plates the pasta for the two of you.

“I’ll still take the high praise. Now, should we do a white or a red wine?” 

“Hmm, a red works better with this I think.” You nod. 

Jungkook tells you where you can find his bottle opener and some glasses. You managed to get the cork screw into the cork but seem to be lacking the ability to actually pull the cork out of the bottle. Jungkook finds some amusement in watching your struggle but you persist. You’ve opened plenty of wine bottles in the past, this shouldn’t be difficult. 

“Having some trouble?” Jungkook watched you try and fail to pull the cork out a third time.

“Absolutely not. The cork and I are just having a disagreement.” You shake off your hand a few times and then get a better grip on the screw pulling upward as best you can. With some pathetic struggle, you really swear you can feel the cork moving. You let out a sigh as you let it go again. 

“May I?” 

“I swear I’m not that weak.” This honestly was just embarrassing at this point, so much so you have to face away from Jungkook at your next attempt. 

You make one final grip on the corkscrew and twist and tug, finally the corkscrew and cork pop free. Not before your hand comes straight, hard and fast, into your own face.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook’s face changes as he sees you basically punch your own face. “Are you okay?” 

You did dizzy yourself slightly but you set the bottle down. Feeling your face, hoping you hadn’t broken your nose although it certainly would be bruised or sore at least, “Okay maybe I should never open wine ever again.” 

Your nose then began to pulse with pain, this definitely wasn’t a part of your plan for sure. You covered it with one of your hands but Jungkook pulled it away. “Here let me look at it.”

“Please tell me it’s not bleeding.” You groan, and Jungkook places his hands on both of your cheeks looking at it. You match his face and he looks genuinely concerned. 

“Well, I’m not a doctor but you’re still pretty cute.” He then smiles and rubs one of his thumbs on your cheek. “That’s my professional assessment anyways.”

“Okay, but it still really hurts.” You say, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. 

“Hey, it’s probably just a bit sore—no blood, no bruise.” He gently tilts your head from side to side in a silly, exaggerated inspection that makes you giggle. 

It’s quiet between you both for a moment, Jungkook still holding your face. He just looks over your face for a moment, your nose was red but it was probably going to be okay. He had hurt his own nose a few times to know if it was broken. 

Jungkook’s hands still on your cheeks, eyes meeting as he studies your face. It’s easy to get lost in the warmth of his gaze and how close he is. A little too easy. For a second, you find yourself softening, tempted by the thought of leaning in and just letting yourself enjoy this. But then, just in time, you snap back to reality, realizing you can use this little mishap to your advantage. This damage to your nose might have actually opened up a window for what you had been working yourself up too.

You pull your face away from Jungkook and shake your head, breathing in a heavy breath. Jungkook looked a little confused but then after a moment you were crying. You were crying? 

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “I was just teasing you.” 

You wave your hands in a frantic show, your voice cracking just a little. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just….” You let out a little sob. “I’m just so clumsy! And you made this beautiful dinner, and I’ve totally ruined it!”

Jungkook looks utterly bewildered now, glancing around as if the answer to your sudden breakdown might be hiding in his kitchen cabinets. “Really, I promise, you didn’t mess anything up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, almost nervously.

“Ugh, I can't believe this. I’m totally ruining the mood.” You wipe your tears away. 

It was a good little performance. One that was planned.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

The evening before.

Day 04

“The art of crying on command.” Here you were again. Ronnie sitting next to you. Jin pacing back and forth with his notepad once again. Unfortunately for you, Jin was the person to have expertise on this subject being an acting teacher. 

“Okay I already regret this.” You try to stand up but Ronnie pulls you back down onto Jin’s couch. 

“This will help you!” Ronnie protested and leaned on you once you were settled back in. “This can be a part of your over dramatic persona you use.” 

“Exactly! It gives you another tool in the toolbox for the charade you signed up for!” Jin pointed at you with his pen and waving it around. 

“Fine, continue.” You wave for him to go on and Jin grins. 

“Thank you! Now, there are three main techniques for crying on command.” he begins, pacing dramatically. “Some people can just… do it. They snap their fingers and—bam! Tears.” He snaps his fingers for effect. “Others need to go to a sad memory. Something personal and emotional, something that really tugs at the heartstrings. And then, of course, some people have to resort to…ahem, creative methods. Pepper in the sinuses, maybe a little poke to the eye…”

“Let’s please avoid self-injury.” You interrupt dryly, giving him a look.

“Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics and see if you’re a natural.” Jin says, jotting a note on his pad. “Close your eyes, focus, and let’s see if you can will the tears into existence.”

You sit up straight, trying your best to summon tears on command, forcing your eyes to feel…sad? Your face contorts into what you hope is a tearful expression, but as you blink, nothing happens. Your eyes are as dry as ever.

“Nothing?” Jin sighs and makes a dramatic strike-through on his notepad, looking deeply disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mutter. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jin strikes something out on his notepad and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “ Cannot cry on command. So let’s try a memory, or is there a movie scene you can’t think about because it gets you teared up?” 

You sit and think, you have some sad memories from your childhood that you bring to the front of your mind. Reminiscing on them, although some things are sad or bittersweet, nothing tear jerking. 

“Dry.” Ronnie leans over and looks closely in your eyes, so much so you have to shove her face away from you. 

“Dry.” Jin repeats and writes on his notepad. 

“Maybe try going to the dark place?” Ronnie snaps and looks at you. “You always get really teary eyed when you think about dying alone.”

“Okay rude.” You sigh, it wasn’t untrue. Whenever you came back from dates that were unsuccessful or you wasted your time on someone who just wanted something casual you found yourself going to, what you and Ronnie have deemed, the dark place. “I don’t like thinking about that.” 

“It’s for science!” Ronnie cheers, throwing her arms up like it's supposed to make it more fun or something. 

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch.  “I don’t know if this is such a great idea, honestly. When I start spiraling about my love life, it’s not exactly…mild.” You look down, already feeling a little prick of sadness starting to stir.

Jin comes and squats in front of you, “Well then just go to the edge of it and don’t think about the whole picture. What about dying alone usually gets you crying?” 

You think for a second, and finally, the words come out quietly. “I guess… I cry when I start thinking that maybe I won’t ever find someone who’s…just right for me.”

Ronnie lets out a soft “aww” and nudges you gently.

You let yourself feel it for a moment—the uncertainty, the nagging doubt that, maybe, you’ll keep hitting dead ends. And with that, you feel a familiar, bittersweet ache starting to well up.

Jin nods approvingly, seeing a slight glimmer in your eyes. “Excellent.” He says, jotting down, potential crying trigger identified.

The vulnerability hangs in the air, and you let yourself lean into it a little. Lately, it felt harder and harder to keep going on dates, to believe that love might work out someday. You always seemed to be either too much or not enough—loving too deeply, too slowly, too intensely. It left you feeling drained, to the point where dating felt less like romance and more like a chore.

But with Jungkook, for once, you’d felt...hopeful. Like there was someone who genuinely wanted to share a moment, who put effort into making sure you had a good time. As unintentional as it was, you’d started to feel a little spark, considering the circumstances of your forced meeting. But as soon as you’d started to believe it, you reminded yourself it was all part of the act. You couldn’t let yourself actually believe it. You got your hopes up again , and they were ripped out from under you… again . 

So you had slowly felt as time went on, you were losing sight of finding the one.  

Then without even realizing it, you had a few stray tears fall from your eyes. 

“Boom!” Jin erupted and sprang to his feet, “We have tears!”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

You gripped onto that feeling you let it force a few more tears out of your eyes. Unfortunately you did not avoid the personal injury part of the tears. So this was going really well for you. 

You take a shaky breath, letting a few more tears roll down, making sure the sniffle that follows sounds especially pitiful. “Maybe I should just go home.” You say, voice wavering. “This along with my day… it’s all just been too much. You probably think I’m completely insane.”

You manage to start walking toward the door. Jungkook then panics for a moment, how did we go from laughing at you injuring your nose to crying and saying you’re going home? He felt like he had jumped three steps or something. You start toward the front door but Jungkook stepped around you, stopping you. 

“Wait what?” Jungkook looked confused, “How did we get here? I don’t want you to leave.”

You sniff even louder, adding just the right amount of snotty dramatics. “No, I should. You barely know me, and here I am—an emotional wreck in your kitchen. It’s… it’s too much.”

“And? You just hit yourself in the nose really hard. I would be a little embarrassed and want to leave too.” Jungkook places a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Besides, isn't the whole point of going on dates to get to know each other better?”

“I guess.” You wipe your face again, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to just… fall apart like this.”

Jungkook sighs a little relieved, that could have spiraled further. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Well it’s still early, I haven't had a chance to go full blown crazy yet.” Which gets a laugh out of both you and Jungkook. 

“Well I can deal with that I think.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, the food is still good. Wine is still out and last I checked a bruised nose doesn’t stop you from eating.” 

“Wait, is it actually bruising?” You reflexively go up to touch it, definitely tender to the touch and Jungkook chuckles a little. 

“I’m teasing. It’s only a little red.” He takes your hand and pulls you back into his apartment, with a little reluctance from you. “Stay, at least for a little while. I’m not going to let you walk out of here feeling like this.”

You blink up at him, playing up a hint of uncertainty, but inside, you’re genuinely a little taken aback. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He tilts his head to the side trying to meet your eyes, that had been darting everywhere else out of real embarrassment. “Look, I don’t care if you cry, I’m the biggest cry baby I know!”

You manage a small, hesitant smile, as if he’s starting to get through to you. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Jungkook scoffs, feigning insult. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. Those ‘lost puppy finds his way home’ commercials? I’m done. I’m over here pretending there’s dust in my eyes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe I believe you… just a little.”

“There we go!” He looks genuinely pleased, his expression softening as he sees you relax. “So, if I’m willing to admit my crybaby tendencies, it’s only fair you stick around for dinner, right?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of your answer. 

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You say it with an air of nonchalance, trying to mask the small spark of mischief hidden behind your agreement. It earns you a relieved, borderline triumphant smile from Jungkook.

“Phew! You’re sparing me from a whole night of wondering if my cooking scared you off for good.” He grins, his dramatic sigh punctuating his relief.

“Oh, please.” You say, rolling your eyes, feeling the perfect opening for a light jab. “If anything, the food is what convinced me to stay.”

Jungkook then serves dinner for the both of you. You both fall into easy conversation as you eat, he really did do a great job with the food. He was very considerate of making sure you needed anything else or pouring more wine when you wanted it. As well as making you laugh at almost every single turn. You really do get it why he got girls to go home with him so easily, between this and your first date the amount of confidence and charm that exudes from him is palpable in the air. 

Jungkook would never show it but his lack of practice with dating has actually made this date and your last the most nervous he has been in a while. Jungkook’s mind is racing, carefully cataloging every response you make, every laugh, every nod. He wants—needs—this to go well, not just because he’d prefer to win $300 rather than lose it, but because, in his gut, he actually likes seeing you here, across from him. He catches himself wondering if he’s oversharing when he starts a story, or if he’s going on too long when he recounts his last trip. When you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he relaxes a bit, but he still can’t quite shake that uncertainty. 

You decided no more theatrics for the evening and let this play out naturally, how you would play out any other evening. Anything else would tip him off that maybe you were doing this on purpose. 

After a while the two of you had moved into the living room, you had been flipping through his records again, you didn’t take a chance to look at them all earlier. He had a decent collection for sure so you got a good sense of the type of music he liked. You both had a few glasses of wine now and so the conversation had turned more and more flirtatious. 

Noting the variety of music—jazz, a little classic rock, some alternative stuff. “You’ve got a good taste.” You say, glancing back at him. “This one,” you pull a record out with a slight smirk, “definitely says something about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, leaning on the side of his couch as he watches you move around his shelves. “And what exactly does it say?”

You tilt your head, pretending to give it serious thought. “That you’re trying really hard to be cool. Just edgy enough.”

He laughs, though you notice he flushes slightly, brushing off your joke with a casual shrug. “Hey, everyone needs a little mystery. Or at least…a halfway-decent record collection.”

“Is that what you’re hiding?” You tease. “A mysterious vinyl collection? Or is it just your immense amount of fish facts?”

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out.” The words slip out before he can stop them, and he immediately kicks himself. It feels too... eager, a bit too close to something genuine. But he manages to recover, putting on a self-assured smile. “Not everyone gets to see my hidden jazz albums.”

You laugh, setting the record back and looking at him with a raised brow. “Guess I’ll have to consider myself lucky, then.” Finding a spot back on the couch with him. 

Jungkook shifted in his spot so his body was completely facing you now. With the alcohol having set in, his eyes were a little droopy and he was smiling but he looked boyish. He found the more he was learning about you the more he felt fine with telling you things about himself. 

“You look tired.” You poke his forehead. “Maybe I really should go.” 

“It’s barely even late.” Jungkook takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m not tired at all.” 

“Your eyes tell a different story.” You laugh, leaning your head against the back of his couch. 

“Well what else are they saying?” He smirks, finding any reason to get a compliment from you. 

You stare at them for a minute, you were trying to come up with something clever. “Well if I am translating this right… I can’t handle my wine. ”

You laugh and Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Wow how did you know?” 

“I have a thing for reading people.” You shrug. “What do mine say?”

He leans in really close looking between them. “Wow this guy is so hot and charming I really want to kiss him again .” Jungkook then gasps dramatically leaning away. “That’s scandalous, Y/N.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and get up from the couch trying to leave, Jungkook's hand pulling you back to standing in front of him. “You’re really full of yourself.”

“I’d like to think just a healthy amount.” He grins, Jungkook then places one of his hands on the back of your thigh. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver up your spine, but you do your best to keep your cool, not letting him see just how much his touch is affecting you.

You scoff with a half smile, “We’ll see about that.” 

Jungkook's smile widens sitting forward on his couch, both of his hands finding their way to your hips. Tracing small circles with his thumbs, making it impossible for you to think. The way he looks at you—intense, unflinching, like he’s trying to figure you out—has you second-guessing your plans  all over again, just for a second. This is what makes this hard, because the way he looks at you makes you believe every single word.

Many guys before have looked at you like this and you always fall for it, you always let yourself go for it. 

It’s a little difficult to remember that right now though, your mind is clouded by the wine. 

You glance down to his lap for a moment then back up to his eyes that haven’t left yours. “Can I?” 

Jungkook just nods, allowing you to take your place on his lap. Lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Jungkook really was not intending for this night to go this way but he wasn’t complaining if it had. He would do whatever you wanted. His hands stayed planted on your hips as you found what felt comfortable. 

“You’re pretty.” He says with a shine in his eyes, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum. 

“You’re pretty too.” You lace your arms around his neck. Both of your faces are coming so close together now. Breathes intermingling for a moment, asking the same question. “You were right though.” 

“About what?”

“I do want to kiss you again.” You catch the slight hitch in Jungkook's breath at your words, the way his fingers tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your heart races. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, searching your face as though he’s almost afraid this moment might slip away.

“I’m not one to protest.” Jungkook swallows for a moment, before you took no time to close the distance between you. Pressing your lips against his soft but certain. Jungkook immediately responds tilting his head to deepen it. One of Jungkook's hands sliding up your back to bring you closer to him. The moment makes you forget everything else, as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink into it, into the surprising tenderness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his kiss. You move your hands to cup his face, relishing in how warm you are now. You felt your whole entire body heat up, and small wetness in between your legs. Oh this was not good, you cannot sleep with him this soon. 

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

He would know exactly where to touch you and exactly how to make you moan and you had very little issues with wanting to let him do that. It would be so worth it, it would be so good. Except it cannot go past this, for your sanity at least. You needed to cut this off somehow. His tongue in your mouth was making it incredibly difficult to be logical. You could feel him probably already getting a semi and you really could not stop thinking about grinding on him. 

You needed to stop though. Because this is a great opportunity to drive in that wedge between the two of you. One more way to mess this situationship up, but not ruin it completely.

As you pull away from him, leaving his lap, you mutter, “Okay… Goodnight.” You force yourself to stand, feigning nonchalance as you gather your things, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn back around. Jungkook is left blinking at you, visibly caught off guard, his hands awkwardly suspended in the air where your hips just were. He clears his throat, collecting himself as he scrambles to follow you.

Clearing his throat. “Hey… um woah… was that not good or whatever?” 

You pick up some of your stuff into your arm, “It was, it was good. It was great.” 

Oh god it was great, he was a really good kisser and your whole body was screaming at you but you fought through. 

Jungkook was confused by your answer and shook his head, as he continued to follow you, “Did… did I misread something? Because I was getting a vibe.”

You glance over your shoulder and manage to flash a casual smile. “No, you didn’t misread anything. I just… don’t usually sleep with someone on the second date. Kind of a rule.” You bite your lip, keeping the truth of it hidden.

“Oh.” Jungkook nods, a look of relief mixed with mild confusion crossing his face as he adjusts his shirt. “Right, totally. Cool cool cool. That’s more than okay and Makes sense, makes sense… you should have said something.”

“It’s a bit of a mood killer to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re not getting any,’ don’t you think?” You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

You gather your things, amused by his honesty, and start toward the door. Jungkook trails behind you, letting out a small puff of air as he stares at the floor. Then, after a beat, he glances up with a sly grin. “So… just out of pure curiosity, not trying to be weird or anything, but what date number are we talking about here? Fourth, fifth…?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, knowing full well he has no idea you’re just messing with him. “More than that.”

He frowns, looking genuinely curious now. “Sixth?”

“Nope.”

“Seventh?” He leans in closer, eyes narrowed like he’s reading the answer off your face.

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?” 

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.” 

Jungkook’s face barely changes, but you can see his jaw tighten just a little as he processes this. “Twelve… dates.” he repeats slowly, nodding as if he’s mentally mapping it out. “I mean, sure. That’s totally reasonable. Not a problem.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised at his lack of pushback.

"Yeah.” He shrugs, putting on a confident smile. “Guess I just have to plan ten more killer dates.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see them.” Jungkook then opens the front door for you. 

“You're going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?” He watches you slowly step out the door with a wide grin on your face. He finds it cute and playful, he could tell you liked the chase. 

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say in a sing song voice, giving him a flirtatious wave as you walk up the hallway to his elevator. 

Before you could get too far Jungkook decided to leave with something. Trotting up the hallway so he could catch you, taking your wrist and stopping you. “One last thing.” 

Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and then kisses you. It surprises you but you welcome him, its one of those kisses that is so passionate and it makes your knees want to buckle out from under you in response. He uses just a little bit of  tongue to send a shiver through your whole body, his hand warm against your cheek as he continues to kiss you just long enough to make you lose track of the hallway, the elevator, and everything else. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are twinkling with that trademark cockiness, but there’s something softer underneath, something that makes your heart do an unwelcome little flip. He grins, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer before letting go. “Goodnight.”

He goes back into his apartment as you retreat to the elevator. As you ride down, you let out a shaky breath, trying to process what just happened, and trying even harder to remind yourself why you’re supposed to be making him miserable. But as your lips still tingle from his kiss, you’re the one who is being thrown off balance now. This was continuing to prove to be difficult.

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Day 6

Jungkook is floating on air as he gets through his next work day. So much so Hoseok has taken notice of Jungkook's change in attitude. Really his whole attitude had been different all week. Not that he was particularly grumpy before or even usually in a bad mood, but he was just in a  really good mood. 

It was Friday night, and the familiar hum of the weekend buzzed in the air as Jimin and Taehyung once again convinced Jungkook and Hoseok to come out for a night of fun. Jungkook had been hesitant, his thoughts lingering on you. He’d been so busy lately, and while the dates had been great, there was something about tonight that made him want to see what plans you had before fully committing to the night out. But eventually, he decided he should just go—time with his friends, after all, was good too. Plus, there was that whole bet to think about, and he had a chance to subtly show Jimin and Taehyung how smoothly things were going with you.

When Jungkook and Hoseok arrived at the booth, they were greeted with their usual boisterous energy. Taehyung raised his glass, grinning widely. “Look who it is!” He said, motioning to the empty seats. As they sat down, the drinks flowed easily, and the conversation began to buzz.

However, Jimin and Taehyung had something else on their minds—Jungkook’s unusually good mood. While their conversation about random topics picked up, they were both trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in him.

“So,” Jimin leaned forward, his voice a bit more teasing than usual, “what’s going on with you tonight? You’ve been, like, way too chill. It’s freaking me out.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the sudden observation. “What do you mean?”

Jimin gestured at him with a mock-serious face, “You're usually the one trying to take the night to the next level . Trying to make things more interesting. Tonight, you're just sitting here, all calm, looking like you’re, I don’t know, at peace or something?”

Taehyung chuckled at the thought, leaning in with a grin. “Yeah, what happened to the Jungkook who was out here doing whatever it took to keep things fun and exciting? You usually make sure the whole night has a direction. Right now, you’re, like... engaged in our conversation about cyber-security. That’s... not you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but he could feel the pressure mounting. He knew his friends had caught on to something, but they didn’t know why he was acting different. “I’m just… having a good day.” His voice light and casual. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Hoseok snorted next to him and Jungkook gave him a side eye. 

“You definitely would have gotten someone’s number by now but your eyes have been glued on us or on your phone this whole time.” Taehyung added on, which was usually true but Jungkook was glued to his phone. Hoping maybe he would see another text from you, secretly. Casually, in a totally normal way. 

“So what gives?” Jimin pokes Jungkook in the arm. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shrugged and took a sip of his drink. 

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “It’s Y/N. The girl you set him up with for this stupid bet.” 

“Oh.” It all clicked into place for the both of them but it was still weird, Jimin continues.“She totally see through your act yet?” 

Jungkook was caught off guard, the question cutting deeper than he expected. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Actually,” He began, his voice softening, “No. We had a really nice date last night. There is nothing to see through, I’ve been completely genuine.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin raised a skeptical eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

Hoseok, who had been mostly observing, finally chimed in with a sigh. “He’s been in such a good mood about it all day, I’ve actually been avoiding him.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, nudging his arm. “So you were dodging me earlier?”

Hoseok shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry, man, I just couldn’t listen to you go on about Y/N again today.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing back at Jimin and Taehyung. “You guys are acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just… going well.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow, his tone a bit annoyed. “So, you’re hitting it off?”

Jungkook smirked, raising his glass. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

That earned a laugh from Jimin and Taehyung. “Yeah, right.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying,” Jungkook replied, his smirk widening, “is you two better get your wallets ready. In 24 days, you’re going to owe me big time.”

With a final grin, Jungkook set his glass down and excused himself, heading off to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok, lowering his voice. “Okay, is it actually going well, or is he just messing with us?”

Hoseok took a sip of his drink, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment before answering. “All I’ll say is… he sent flowers.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Flowers?” They exchanged looks of disbelief, struggling to picture Jungkook—who hadn’t done more than text after a night out for years—sending flowers.

“What kind?” Taehyung asked, still dubious. “If they were just roses, it might’ve been for show.”

Hoseok gave an exasperated look. “Sunflowers. They’re her favorite.”

Jimin blinked in disbelief, his jaw still halfway dropped as he processed Hoseok's words. “Sunflowers?” He repeated, as if the specific flower choice made it even more surreal. “You’re telling me Jungkook not only sent flowers but remembered her favorite kind?”

Hoseok nodded, his expression one of mild amusement. “It’s like he’s on some kind of mission. Didn’t even blink when he mentioned it either—used it as his way to get the second date they had this week.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I don’t know who this new Jungkook is, but he’s full of surprises. Sunflowers? That’s not just impressive; that’s borderline romantic.”

“Borderline?” Jimin laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He’s gone full-on romance novel, and for someone he’s been seeing for, what, a week? This has to be the longest he’s been interested in anyone, like, ever.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, chewing on his lip as he processed the surprising information. “Damn. This is serious.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a small smile, finding some pride in a changed Jungkook. “So he’s not wrong when he says you guys are going to owe him. He’s actually putting in the effort.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look, stunned but slightly impressed. Watching Jungkook send flowers, remember favorites, and put his best foot forward was new—and honestly? They both knew they might just end up eating their own words. Which made them think, was there a way for them to slow this down, make it come to a halt?

It wasn’t an insane amount of money for either of them to lose, but it was much more entertaining to see Jungkook lose. Was there something they could do to mess this up but in a non asshole way?

If they didn’t, Jungkook was going to win the bet, but it had already become much more than a bet at this point for him.

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