#and the ones that look suitable are like over a grand

[cithaerons]

still can’t believe that 18th century desk was only $800

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ imagining heian era! sukuna tending to his pregnant wife, and slowly warming up to having a child.

౨ৎ when he finds out you are pregnant, he goes full 'nonchalant, but worried husband' mode. he did not want kids. he thought they were lousy and annoying, and they would not bring any use to his bloodline. he told you that this would just get in his way, and that you should find a way to get rid of it. but the way you looked up at him with your adorable dazzling eyes? eh, he could make it work, just for you. but he found it hard to warm up to the idea of having children.

౨ৎ hires the best of the best to guarantee your health is in tact. doctors? you will have daily checkups, which included the doctor coming to the estate, and keeping track of your daily prgress while you are bedside. such as seeing if the baby is kicking, how large your stomach grows, and even recommending you a special diet to hold the nutrients for your baby. he is doing all of this for you, not that pesky baby. handmaidens? they will double in number. you are more fragile than ever, and in his eyes, you need all of the female support you can get that he cannot provide.

౨ৎ would host a grand babyshower. there would be hundreds, even thousands of guests at your babyshower. it would be hosted somewhere with a large, outside venue, bustling with people coming to support you. people would give you their blessings, hoping the best for the newcoming ryomen. gifts for the baby such as clothes, furniture, etc. and for you? people will gift you a plethora of things. jewelry, trinkets, and everything under the sun. the citizens of the nearby villages will bow to your feet, wishing you the best. your pregnancy will be treated as an event. around the villages, it will be talked about.

౨ৎ makes a extravagant nursery for your child. it will be in a large room, making extra space for your baby. sukuna will notice you spend alot of time there, watching you decorate the nursery to your pleasing day by day. liked seeing you struggle to put the furniture together, as you are forced to ask him for help, as you watch his assemble a bassinette. you could tell he was starting to get used to the idea of having a child around the estate. as you list off all of your ideas for how you would decorate, he liked to think you might be a suitable mother.

౨ৎ you held a giant journal of names, keeping track of each one as time goes by. you wrote in the journal with an ink pen, sometimes even letting sukuna in on the name choosing. as you sat on his lap in his large office, he would suggest 'little roach', or 'annoying brat' for some of the names, which was quickly shut down. you will think intently upon each name, asking sukuna on his opinion. sukuna thinks he should be the one naming the child, but with his suggestions, that will not be happening. you'd be better off asking some of your handmaidens for advice.

౨ৎ would ask any ladies in the estate for advice as well. this is something he thought he would never have to do. but he finds it difficult to ajust to your pregnancy, due to your influx in hormones, making you seem emotional all the time. would ask your handmaidens why you become so emotional, but they seem offended with the way he worded it. but they realize that sukuna is naturally brash, so they help him by giving him tips and tricks for fatherhood. he tries his best, mostly caring about what he thinks is best for you, not so much your child.

౨ৎ liked looking at your stomach more often than he thought he would. he never knew you would look so goddamn cute swollen with his child, but here he was, watching as you lay in bed, reading a book of poems, as he sees his future child kicking inside your uterus. you child was larger than an average one, he noticed, due to his abnormal genes. placing his large hand over your stomach, he could feel every single kick, asking you questions as it happens. "why does this brat kick so much? tell him to stop." "kuna, hes a baby..." "i do not care, he needs to learn to stop being so restless."

౨ৎ your delivery will send him into internal panic. he demands that he is in the room with you, holding your hand. but your large group of handmaidens by your side strongly disagree, reccomending that he let you be. but making sure you were okay was his top priority, so he stayed in the large bedroom where you gave birth. your head and body would be covered in towels, your hands tightly cuffing your handmaidens. it was extremely painful, as your screams could be heard from afar. but with the way sukuna had rubbed his thumb on your cheek, it made you feel slightly better. after you, he would be the first to hold your child, demanding so himself.

౨ৎ he wants a boy, 100%. he is hoping for a strong heir that can add onto his legacy, even though it isnt entirely necessary. if he ends up having a son, he will teach him the ways of manhood. teaching him how to hunt his own humans, how to properly court a lady (in his mind), and how to become as strong as him someday. and most of all, how to take care of his mother. he will not tolerate any disrespect towards you. he will call his son names like 'ryomen 2.0', or 'annoying rat'.

౨ৎ but if he gets a girl? he will be upset when he finds out. but he will come around to love her after quite a while. will go from calling her a nuisance, to hosting mini tea parties with her stuffed animals which were gifted by her auntie handmaidens, squeezing himself into a small chair at a small dining table with fake tea and pastries. he will truly care for his daughter, and will become extremely overprotective over her. he will call her 'little princess', or 'spoiled brat'.

౨ৎ enjoys watching you tend to your children. he secretly enjoyed the fact that he could call you 'the mother of his children'. being domestic with you is something he had never imagined in his life, but here he was, burping your small newborn over his shoulder with one hand. he likes to see the way your eyes light up when your child walks for the first time, or when they say their first words. he doesnt think it is important, but since its you, he doesnt say anything. "woman, what are you freaking out over?" "come quick! he just said 'papa'!" "i knew it, thats my child alright."

౨ৎ but he will absolutely refuse to change the babys diapers. do not ever ask him to do that, he will very rudely decline. bu dont worry. like everything else, he will come around to do so.

[luvsupa]

“SHALL WE RESUME, MY LADY?”

tags: heianera!sukuna, trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, kissing, servants are bullies :(, BLOOD + KILLING, smut-ish (?), ANGST, readers called little one, my lady, my queen, sukuna lovessss reader but doesn’t wanna show it.

w.c: 1.8k

a/n:ITS BEEN LONG SINCE I WROTE PART 3 FOR SUKUNAAA, so pls read (part 1 + part 2) to understand this :p (or don’t 😔)

-part 1 was my first ever story so pls don’t mind the terrible writing 🤕

+ likes and reblogs are appreciative!!

for weeks now, since your intimate encounter with sukuna in his chambers, his words have echoed relentlessly in your mind:

“you belong to me, mind, body, and soul.”

unable to shake his haunting assertion, you find yourself lost in a fog during your duties, drawing the king’s scorn for your clumsiness—pathetic, he silently judges.

you’ve been desperately trying to avoid sukuna, feeling his ominous presence lurking near the servants’ quarters, dangerously close to your room. each night, you pretend to be asleep, hoping he won’t enter.

uraume and the other servants and concubines have noticed your distraction, their whispers and spiteful glances intensifying your growing distress.

just as you’re lost in your thoughts, walking towards the grand kitchen, you feel yourself being harshly pushed—nearly losing your balance. you turn to face the two brunettes who always accompany sukuna in his chambers.

“look at her,” one sneers, her voice dripping with contempt. “she looks even more pitiful than usual. you’d think she’d try harder, especially with tomorrow’s annual gift-giving ceremony.”

your heart drops, and you feel the blood drain from your face as the realization hits you—you had completely forgotten about it. shit.

the other brunette catches your expression and smirks, leaning closer.

“oh, you did not know?” she mocks, her eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. “did you truly forget? lost in your own little world? pathetic. do not think sukuna-sama has not noticed your incompetence. if i were you, i would be prepared to face his wrath tomorrow.”

before you can respond, the brunettes walk away, laughing cruelly amongst themselves. fear grips you as you stand there, contemplating the consequences of your forgetfulness. this time, he might seek to end my life.

sukuna spared your life once before, but now? you’ve truly done it.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

morning arrives, finding you sleepless and anxious, having spent the night wrestling with decisions on what gift would appease the king of curses. regret gnaws at you—you could have been better prepared.

if only you had listened to uraume’s instructions, you wouldn’t be scrambling now to please sukuna.

a loud groan escapes you, not just from lacking a suitable offering but from the impending threat of losing your life in front of everyone.

your thoughts shatter as your door creaks open. uraume enters, carrying a basket laden with ceremonial attire.

“sukuna-sama will return soon from his mission,” uraume states matter-of-factly, approaching your bedside and handing you the basket. your gaze fixes on the black and gold kimono. “in the meantime, prepare your gift for our king,” they remind you, prompting your heart to skip a beat. you nod gratefully as uraume exits the room.

you linger, captivated by the elegance of the wooden basket. slowly, an idea begins to take shape.

i hope this idea will work…

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

you hurriedly slip into the black and gold kimono uraume handed you, the fabric draping elegantly over your curves as you smooth out its silk folds.

grabbing the basket, you rush out of your room, navigating through the crowded hallways filled with servants, concubines, and guards all preparing to present their gifts to the king.

anxiety grips you as the chatter rises, signaling the ceremony may have already begun. finally reaching the garden, you drop to your knees, swiftly gathering orchids, red camellias, and wisterias.

heart pounding, you carefully arrange the brightly coloured flowers in the basket, leaving space for more. glancing around the vast garden for inspiration, you freeze as you spot a familiar figure in the distance, surrounded by guards and soldiers.

shit.

your pulse quickens as sukuna approaches the estate. you force yourself to calm down, needing clarity to finish your task.

turning to the fruit garden, you ignore the dirt on your kimono as you hurriedly gather peaches, oranges, and pomegranates from the trees, arranging them neatly in the basket.

with your last-minute gift finally perfected, you hope he will at least appreciate the effort. as cheers and applause erupt, signaling sukuna’s arrival, you hasten back to join the line of gift-givers, heart still racing with fear.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the ceremony unfolds in a chamber unfamiliar to you, far larger than sukuna’s usual domain, filled with hundreds and hundreds of servants seated on comfortable cushions, rows of expectant faces awaiting the ceremony’s commencement.

as you wait nervously, you glance around at the lavish offerings others have brought—paintings, gleaming gold jewelry, fine silk robes, ancient artifacts, perfumes, and oils. in contrast, your basket of fruits and flowers seems painfully simple.

whispers and snickers ripple through the crowd, directed at your low-value gift, almost insulting to the king, as the laughter grew louder and more pointed. the embarrassment increases, now overwhelming you.

“silence.”

his voice cuts through the room like thunder, instantly quieting the chatter as all heads bow. only you remain defiantly gazing at sukuna from his elevated throne. he looks magnificent, his towering frame draped in a dark cotton robe that accentuates his scarlet eyes—those unsettling eyes that draw you in despite your fear.

“do you consider yourself more worthy than others to not bow?”

his voice pierces through you, shocking you out of your thoughts. you hadn’t realized you were staring at him so openly. a nearby servant nudges your head down forcefully, a silent command to acknowledge sukuna’s authority.

uraume then signals the first row to approach sukuna with their gifts. as he settles into his throne, one of his lower eye fixates on you with a chilling intensity, reminding you of the difference of ground upon which you stand.

the two brunettes, who supposedly despised you, were the first to present their gifts. all eyes watched as they offered lavish amounts of gold and diamonds to sukuna. you couldn’t help but notice the satisfaction that spread across his face, a subtle amusement evident as he casually placed the gift with one of lower arms behind him.

they took their places on either side of his throne, making way for the next in line. as the line shortened, your turn approached rapidly.

you watched with nervous anticipation as sukuna accepted one of the servants gifts— the beautifully sculpted artifacts and golden treasures—

slash!

the servant’s head was cleanly severed, a loud thud echoing through the room. gasps filled the air as the shock spread through the assembled crowd. some of the seasoned servants were used to sukuna’s impulsive acts, but this was the first time you had witnessed such brutality. blood splattered across his face, yet he remained unfazed, awaiting the next offerings.

you covered your mouth, stifling a scream of horror. the fear of becoming the next victim intensified as you compared your gift to the high valued gift he had just received.

how could he appreciate your offering if he did not enjoy the artifacts?

you were on edge, continuously hearing numerous slash and thuds that kept racing your heart. his gaze seemed to linger on you, intensifying your dread.

unaware that it was your turn next, you suddenly found yourself on the elevated floor, your gift clearly visible to all below. laughter erupted among the watching servants, their anticipation of your downfall.

you felt all four of his eyes fixated on you, observing your trembling form, your eyes flickering nervously as you struggled to stay composed. stepping cautiously over a puddle of blood, you nervously approached his throne.

with trembling hands, you presented the basket of flowers and fruits. below, the two brunettes knelt, their mocking laughter ringing in your ears.

sukuna silently observed the basket, his large hands delicately holding the tiny fruits. he plucked out peaches, pomegranates, and oranges with two hands while the other two hands carefully examined the flowers, bringing them to his nose to inhale their earthly fragrance. then, to your surprise, sukuna’s lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“little one,” he said in a low velvety voice that sent shivers down your spine. “you surprise me.” 

the crowd exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of how to interpret sukuna’s unexpected reaction. the two kneeling servants looked up at sukuna in disbelief, their faces turning pale as they realized their own gifts, despite their value, had not elicited such a response.

sukuna carefully placed everything back into the basket, then lifted a ripe peach to his lips. his intense gaze locked onto yours as he took a deliberate bite, savouring the sweetness. loudly humming at the sweet taste.

unexpectedly, two of sukuna’s free hands reached out and gently grabbed your waist. you squealed in surprise at the sudden contact as sukuna swiftly spun you around, placing you on his lap with your back is against his chest. his third hand delicately tilted your chin, looking up towards him.

“‘kuna…” you began, mindlessly calling him by a forbidden nickname. but his lips cut off your words in a hungry kiss. the taste of peach lingered on his lips, blending with the sweet intensity of the moment. his kiss was fierce, brimming with a raw passion.

sukuna’s large hand snakes up to the crevice of your neck, and to your surprise, another mouth formed on his hand, trailing down to suck and kiss a sensitive spot on your neck. a soft moan escaped your lips, muffled by his kiss, and he grinned at your reaction.

the brunettes stared up at the two of you with utter jealousy, never having received such intimacy from their king. the entire room gaped in shock; they had never witnessed the king of curses succumb so readily to a mere servant.

sukuna then pulls away, leaving you dizzy from the closeness. his presence seems to envelop you, making you feel intoxicated by his mere touch. with a gentle touch, sukuna adjusts your slouched posture, his hands holding you firmly against his broad chest. leaning down, he kisses your ear softly.

“you will judge which gift is worthy,” he begins, his closeness making your head spin even more. “if anything displeases you, I will take care of it,” he murmurs, hinting at even more slashes. another hand snaking up to your neck, softly applying pressure to restore your stability.

if anything you feel a rush of arousal.

“i will obey your every command, my queen. i am yours to command,” he declares softly, causing you to whimper in response. gasps fill the room as they witness the king of curses submitting himself to you.

“shall we resume, my lady?”

[onlyswan]

dreamboat | jjk (1)

summary: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive / chapter wc: 14.9k / total fic wc: 30.8k

warnings/content (for full fic): is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? ; smoking ; making out ; mention of nude art ; mention of flashing ; panic attack ; a ghost cameo lol ; s*x scandal ; abuse of authority ; harrassment ; jk throws a punch once ; oc drives a motorbike without a helmet once ; vminjin + yeontan cameos :3 ; tae and jk are the same age tho

-> part two (wc: 15.9k) | spotify playlist (open to song recs <3)

note: my not so little summer project <3 i thought i wouldn’t have the opportunity to dedicate this much time to writing again in the near future so here we are! finishing this story alone felt fulfilling but even more so that i get to share it with you. pls treat it with gentle care 🫂 reblogs and feedback r very much appreciated i love talking to you guys🥺 special thanks to my lovely rio for proofreading and being the sweetest friend :") ilyily

࿐ for those who yearn <3

—

“wait! wait for me! don’t close it yet!”

jungkook’s whole life has led up to this moment. 

from running away from his neighbor’s large snobby dogs during childhood— to participating in run for charity marathons mostly, only mostly, to appease his ex-girlfriend by being interested in her interests.

he successfully escaped from his uneventful class today by faking dizziness. half an hour later, he is racing towards one of the few places in this city where he feels something. 

his best friend’s face is still blurry given the distance, but jungkook doesn’t need to clearly see taehyung’s face to know that he is looking at him unimpressed. 

“why are you here? do you even have a ticket?!” taehyung interrogates him once he reaches the gate.

“do i have a ticket? really?” jungkook smirks, tossing his backpack to the ground. 

he crosses over to the other side, and with ease, sneaks his hand in between the bars to push the lock into place. 

“what do you think i work here for?” 

taehyung sighs and mumbles to himself. “fine, my bad. thought we worked to pay for our bills.”

he picks up the backpack and swings it over his shoulder, heading to the control booth. on the other hand, jungkook climbs on the ship the amusement park owner lovingly named the dreamboat. he places his grip on one of the many vines curiously large butterflies are attached to, fully ignoring the existence of the steps. he hoists himself up onto the wooden floor with ease. 

unhappy faces with blank stares. 

he smiles at them cheerfully.

“i apologize for the hold-up. i’m your captain!” 

“jungkook! sit!” 

“wouldn’t he be the captain?” a high school boy at the very front quips, eyes pointing downwards at taehyung. 

“eh, more like the wind behind our sails.” he ruffles the boy’s head in passing as he trudges over to his desired seat. 

“what?”

his spot, a more suitable better term. the farthest row which most first timers do not dare to sit at; the part of the ship closest to the sky when it swings back and forth, higher and higher, until it feels like he’s going to fall off— but he doesn’t. for short bursts of moments, he’s flying. 

the passengers are erupting in ear-splitting screams, curses, and laughter. the wide smile plastered on his face could probably be described as sadistic as he observes their reactions. most would find this ride as a nauseating, life-threatening ordeal and its name ridiculously ironic. however, to jungkook, this is what it means to be alive.

he imagined he would be alone here again today.

but as he is brought higher into the air, he discovers one person strapped to the last row of the other side of the ship. 

the earth begins to move in slow motion. 

they have their face buried in their palms, body shaking with what he can only guess is intense sobbing. 

gone is the smile on his face. 

jungkook has witnessed a few criers, sure, but not to this degree. a wave of sadness washes over him. he feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. why the hell would he be? he doesn’t even know who you are. 

are you that scared? if you’re scared, why would you volunteer to go here alone? if not, then why is your heart breaking? 

for a few seconds, the noises cease and his focus on you becomes amplified. 

and why is his breaking too? 

your sobs and gasps for air are once more drowned out by the fear and adrenaline of the majority. nevertheless, the ache they caused in his chest stays. 

what could it be? the reason you’re crying like this at an amusement park? wouldn’t it be because you got stood up by your date?

lost in thought, he’s been unblinking. the wind blows as the speed of the boat picks up and he groans when dirt gets into his eye. he harshly rubs and rubs and he stops to check if it’s gone… he knows it’s gone because now he can see clearly— one of the most beautiful people he has laid his eyes upon.

the wind blows into your hair and it finally grants him a good view of your face. red, swollen eyes and mascara running. you wipe your tears away, distant eyes falling on your lap, and you take a sharp inhale. you’re a tragedy and so gorgeous still that the aching of his heart doubles due to its intensified pounding. 

there’s no way… he debunks his theory. there’s no way a man could ever waste the opportunity of going on a date with you. only a fool. 

slow motion comes to a full stop.

shit, shit, shit. 

why can’t he look away? 

you’ve made eye-contact and you’re not breaking it. 

he nervously swallows the lump in his throat.

“huh?”

the ringing of the bell snaps him out of… whatever that experience was. he looks around and it is revealed to him that the ship has returned to its neutral position. passengers are already hopping off, including you.

wait, including you… 

when did you get a cap?!

“fuck!” he curses, kicking his feet in annoyance.

he then proceeds to break the promise he swore to himself: never run after a girl again. 

“yah, jungkook! where are you going?! you need to clock in!”

taehyung releases yet another sigh as he loses his best friend among the crowd. nearly at the same time, he hears a thud that originates from the control booth. he blankly stares at the backpack that mysteriously fell off the chair. 

“does he have snacks in here at least?”

—

blue tube top and black baseball cap worn backwards. blue top and black cap. blue top and black cap. jungkook chants in his head like a maniac as he navigates the grounds, trying his best not to lose sight of your back. sweat has started to form as beads on his forehead. he squeezes one eye shut, wary of the sting, before wiping them away with the back of his hand. 

he ran with all his might, but now that you’re almost within reach, he’s suddenly nervous.

“miss- miss! you dropped this!” 

you turn around abruptly so his fingers end up only grazing your arm. the first thing he notices is your knitted eyebrows. he doesn’t know whether it mostly indicates annoyance or confusion. 

you merely glance at the handkerchief on his open palm. “it’s not mine.” 

you walk away from him and you are a magnet he is curiously drawn to. 

he stands in front of you, sweaty and stuttering like a student introducing himself to a class for the very first time. 

“but are you okay? i-i couldn’t help but to notice that you were cry- uh, uhm… you-you seem to  have troubles.” 

he clears his throat, turning his cheek for a second as to avoid melting under your intense gaze. he marvels at your beauty but he can’t pull himself together to admire it from a close distance. 

“sorry, i don’t mean to pry. i’m just concerned.” 

seconds pass and he doesn’t receive any sort of answer. no affirmative nod; not even a roll of the eyes. you stare at his face blankly as your feet become rooted into the ground. strands of your hair dance with gusts of the wind. it could be a haunting sight. your glossy eyes are reminiscent of deep, turbulent waters. there was a twinge of doubt on the accuracy of his words before, however, it now seems to ring true. 

could it really be because of a boy?

a bicycle enters his line of vision. 

a little too close not to cause an accident. 

“move!” he yells out the warning, but he still takes matters into his own hands by pushing you over to the side and using his own body as a shield. 

the bicycle speeds past and the rider screams something unintelligible. 

jungkook’s nostrils flare. “kid, that’s not allowed in here! where did you come from?!” 

the security guard running after the rule-breaker moves past him, but not before hitting his back with the baton. 

“jungkook! why didn’t you stop him?!”

“yah! what was that for?!” 

he scoffs, glaring towards the direction of the intruder and his co-staff, who has an entirely different job from him. why didn’t he stop him?! 

while he was distracted by the commotion, he was also unaware that you managed to swipe the handkerchief loosely hanging from his grip around your arm. 

his angry expression softens. 

you wipe away your tears that are freely flowing against your will. earlier, you were sobbing. right now, your face is devoid of any expression. he can’t decide which is more heartbreaking.

“are you okay?” he carries on to ask again despite the both of you knowing the answer, but he just doesn’t know what else to do. 

“i’m okay,” you say. “thanks for finding my handkerchief… and for saving me from the- the, yeah…” 

you’re about to walk out of his life until his mouth blurts out- “wait! take this!” 

he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. you blink at the small packet of sour gummies on his open palm and he wishes the ground would swallow him whole. 

even he thinks this is ridiculous. he had a handkerchief in the left pocket of his jacket and now it’s yours. he had gummy worms in the right and for some reason he also wants you to have it.

“why?”

he has the same question.

“just because…”

no, that won’t do it.

“maybe it could make you feel better.”

oh my god.

“if you decide to ride the spinning top… it helps when you’re nauseated.”

still with the unreadable expression, you probe no further and accept his edible remedy. 

“thank you.” you politely bow before taking your leave.

he doesn’t run after you this time. after all, his pockets are empty. 

meeting you— this is probably the first and last time. 

he exhales through his mouth. disappointed. he turns around and tries to look for you again. 

blue top and black cap… 

there you are. 

leaving- 

wait. 

the spark of hope quickly fizzles out. you pull your hand out of your pocket, tossing something into one of the trash bins. he’s too far away to identify the item, but it couldn’t be… right?

he huffs in sheer disbelief.

“huh, she’s pretty and rude.” 

—

if he’s being honest, jungkook doesn’t like this job much. graphic design is there, and it’s been a pretty sweet gig especially when he’s desperate for extra cash. anyway, taehyung got this job first, which took away time from their regular hangouts, so he would often visit his best friend during his free periods at the university. long story short, one of the managers scolded them both for playing around throughout taehyung’s shift, and as a punishment, she employed jungkook.  

she is the reason why he is spending his sunday morning putting on strangers’ seatbelts and lap bars so they won’t fall off the rollercoaster and die. he was trained to double-check everything, but he is a bit more paranoid about lawsuits than the management, so despite the extra waiting time some passengers aren’t happy about, he makes that triple. 

as fast as he can, while maintaining meticulousness, he does his final round of checking. so far, everyone is safely strapped to their seats. until he reaches the last row and finds the only person there with their lap bar unlocked. how did he miss that? 

“ma’am, your lap bar isn’t secured. do you mind if i-”

the woman shakes her head without a word. as he gets to work, his eyes can’t help but to stray. most of her face is hidden by a face mask and sunglasses. it’s kind of funny because it’s actually been a gloomy day. 

“ah, there you go. safe and sound!” 

“thanks,”

he flashes her a bright smile. the last and apparently most important employee rule.  

“you’re welcome!” 

—

 

“why aren’t you eating?” taehyung asks with a mouthful of corndog. 

jungkook lifts his head up from the table, sends him a glare, then drops it again. he didn’t get much sleep last night studying for their upcoming tests. he’d much rather spend his whole lunch break with his eyes closed. he’d go as far as saying that moving his jaw to chew food sounds like exerting too much energy and he couldn’t be bothered.

“change shifts with me. i fucking hate sundays.” 

“depends…” taehyung pretends to be in deep thought. “will you buy me a meal everyday until our shifts rotate again?”

“do you want to die?” 

“no, but it looks like you will before me.” 

jungkook yawns, sleepy tears flowing down his temple. “you might be right…”

“were you up all night thinking of that girl?” 

“huh? no.”

“you’re lying.”

“shut up,” he groans, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. 

so a beautiful stranger has been plaguing his mind. big deal! happens to the best of us. 

taehyung cackles at his demise, thoroughly amused. “why? didn’t she throw away your gift?” 

“it wasn’t a gift.” he argues. “and i know, she’s exactly my type.” 

“bro, you’re fucking hopeless.”

“i know that too,” he calmly replies. “i kind of miss her.” 

“at least it’s not your ex anymore, i guess.” taehyung mutters before obnoxiously sipping on his strawberry lemonade. “want to sneak into the security camera room? i’m curious. i want to see her.”

“can’t you just let me sleep?!” 

“wow, you’re so grumpy today.” 

took him long enough to deduce.

“then should we go after your nap?” 

“i need to work!” jungkook snaps. he straightens his back, rubbing his face in frustration. “go- go do whatever you want!”

taehyung’s chewing slows down, appearing almost scared at his best friend’s outburst, but everything is a game with the two of them. “but i don’t know what she looks like.” 

jungkook sighs, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“okay, fine!” 

in a state of exaggerated panic, taehyung gathers his things in one clean sweep, cradling them in his arms. 

“i’m leaving!” he dashes out of the break room as if he’s running for his life. 

jungkook huffs out a laugh at the comedic scene. as soon as his smile drops, so does his head. 

—

 

it’s past midnight, which means it’s already friday. jungkook has been glued to the computer for the past three hours, working on a brochure he was commissioned to make. this task would go along smoothly if only his client didn’t have such a long list of demands, but alas, he is desperate for a good review after his past client’s four paragraph-long criticism. a boomer’s opinions hardly matter to him, but he knows how a single bad review alone can negatively affect reputation. 

one thing’s for sure, everyone’s making it hard for him to fucking quit energy drinks. 

he tosses the empty can into the trash bin beside his desk. away with his anti-radiation glasses, too. it lands in an awkward position over his keyboard. he couldn’t care less. everything hurts. 

he keeps his eyes closed as he stretches his fingers, neck, and back with strained moans and grunts. the sweet relief causes him to slump lazily on his chair. at that moment, an internal battle starts. should he do the responsible thing and continue working? or should he just say fuck it and go to bed? 

“no but seriously! why would she throw them away?!” 

completely unrelated. 

a thousand miles away from the topic at hand. 

“jungkook!” taehyung growls from the bed, furiously pressing at the buttons of the controller. “it’s been two weeks! when are you going to move on?” 

jungkook spins the chair to face him with a deadpan expression. the ps5 hogger is too focused on the television screen to even notice. 

“you wouldn’t expect it but those aren’t cheap.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t have given it away to a stranger.” taehyung shrugs. “but that’s just me.” 

“that was out of my control.” jungkook defends. “you should’ve seen her.” 

“well, you wouldn’t let me.” taehyung mumbles, but he obviously wanted him to hear. “no thanks. crying at the amusement park? she’s got to have some real issues.” 

“so what? we all got issues.” 

“not me,” he sends jungkook a smirk. “if i don’t acknowledge them, they’re not there.” 

“and that, my friend…” jungkook has decided to retire from his work area tonight. he pats taehyung’s shoulder as a display of faux sympathy. “is your biggest issue.” 

wearing a childish grin, he grabs the other controller from the floor.

“now, shall we rank up?” 

—

 

it’s been a few days since summer vacation started. he normally comes home to busan during the school breaks for a temporary taste of childhood bliss. he spends the entire day watching television, eating home-cooked meals, and not thinking about requirements at all.

too bad his vacation is suspended due to his adult responsibilities. 

at least that’s the excuse he used. 

his family has been staying with relatives for the past month because their home is currently under renovation. and well, jungkook’s dorm is suffocating enough on his own. staying under one roof with nine other people? hard. pass.

he may or may not be regretting that decision now, however. all of a sudden, coming home from work with a bag full of ramyeon and beer feels too depressing. even more so that he has no one to share them with. all of his friends have gone home. taehyung, too. he found someone who could temporarily fill in his place and did not think twice about leaving jungkook behind. he can’t blame him.

jungkook enters the apartment building. as always, quiet and dim. he gets that the owner is trying to save money, but isn’t it a bit too early to start turning off the lights? he rolls his eyes despite the lack of a witness. 

they are very lucky that he has grown somewhat fond of this place.

jungkook allows himself to be roped in by the only source of warm light in the lobby. he finds himself incredibly silly for being entertained by goldfishes swimming around in an aquarium, but after a hectic day, this is where his brain cools down. 

“hello everyone,” he coos at them.

do fishes even react to baby talk? he wouldn’t know. the only pet that lasted him years and is still alive is their family dog, gureum. 

“how was your day? i hope it was better than mine.” 

—

 

on the other side of the aquarium stands you, watching a boy talk to the fishes while he is blissfully unaware of your presence. an endeared smile graces your face unbeknownst to you. 

eventually, there arrives a moment when most of the fishes favor a certain side and they clear out before his eyes. 

that is when he finally notices you. 

your heart begins to race, but he appears to be more shocked than you are. you stand up straight nearly at the same time. 

despite the dark, they’re impossible to miss. his breathtaking eyes— which were filled with pure wonder and adoration only seconds ago— growing in size as soon as they saw yours. 

“i know you…” 

a bucket of ice cold water is dumped over your head. 

“the girl who cried at the dreamboat!”

and while you do not appreciate the rather ungentlemanly pointing of finger, you’re glad to be able to breathe out a sigh of relief. 

well, and there’s also the crippling shame.

you didn’t want your first impression on anyone to be the most pitiful version of yourself. 

it’s been over a month for fuck’s sake. how does he remember your face so well?

“wow,” he gapes. “you changed your hair.”

you touch your hair, feeling a little conscious. 

is that a good thing or a bad thing? 

it’s your first time changing your hair color; plus, the last time you had bangs was in middle school. it’s been weeks since you had the big transformation, but you’re not quite sure how you feel about it yet. 

“yeah, light pink…” 

“it suits you well.” 

“thanks,” is all you manage to respond with. 

a gust of awkward silence passes by. there’s the instinct to run away— knocking at your brain, pulling at your limbs. but you can’t think of an excuse. your feet won’t move… eventually you stop minding that. the goldfishes are too beautiful to look away from. they work as the perfect distraction from the other soul standing across. 

“so, um- i’ve never seen you around here.”

“i moved in today.”

“oh, i see… that makes sense.” 

you hum to fill the quietness that follows, thinking of what else you could say, but he beats you to it.

“i live at the 13th floor.“ 

what did he say? do you live on the same floor? that’s impossible.

“how about you?” 

“hm, 10!” 

you blurt out the first number that pops into your mind. you quickly pretend like you’re not freaking out inside by shifting the topic.

“do they-” you gesture to the aquarium. “do they have names?”

“names?” 

the random question seems to catch him off guard.

“none that i’m aware of.” he shakes his head. “i don’t think so- no.”

“oh…” your shoulders sag in disappointment. “that’s sad.”

but then again, you should’ve lowered your expectations and reminded yourself where you are. they were not bought as pets. they were bought for display. 

—

 

the last time jungkook saw you was over a month ago. maybe your face is a tad different because you’re not crying. the new color of your hair compliments you in a way unlike before’s yet just as beautiful. the bangs make much of the difference too. he doesn’t know how old you are, but you look younger somehow. from his point-of-view, he could say that much has changed. but not the melancholia. 

he watches you gaze into the aquarium in fascination; the lights reflect on your eyes as little twinkling stars. you’re not crying, but why can he still feel your sadness? 

he once told taehyung that if you meet again, he’d give you hell for throwing his sour gummies away. 

funny enough, that plan went out the window the second he laid his eyes on you again. 

“do you want to feed them?” he offers. 

“i already did.”

“you did?”

“i did,” you look up at him innocently, nodding. “i asked the guard.”

“aish, he didn’t tell me.” he throws his arms up with a groan. “i almost overfed them.”

you perk up with interest. “do you always feed them?” 

“when i come home from work.”

“that’s nice…” 

the soft smile you give him makes his heart skip a beat, but he doesn’t know it yet. 

“sorry, um-” you begin smoothing out your clothes, also tucking your hair behind your ears. “i need to get to work. it was nice meeting you.”

“work?” he exclaims. “at this time?”

“graveyard shift,” you simply answer. 

pictures of the dark alleyways immediately flash in his mind. 

“but it’s dangerous to be roaming around here at this time.” 

his radar doesn’t detect crimes being reported around the neighborhood, but with the majority of the building’s occupants being young adults, the streets are often littered with drunkards who have many things to be angry about.

“oh, i don’t walk. i’ve got a bike.”

he hasn’t known you long, but this is the most enthusiastic he has seen you. your face lit up as soon as you mentioned your mode of transportation.

however, he is a tiny bit confused.

it shows on his face, apparently.

“the motor kind,” you clarify. 

“ah, the motor kind-” he claps once as soon as the realization dawns on him. he chuckles to himself. “of course!” 

it was important for you to clarify, jungkook concludes from your tone. the fact that you own a bike is sexy, but you look adorable right now and it is so amusing to him. 

“anyway, i need to go. it was nice to meet you!” 

your heels click against the floor as you head towards the same door he walked in from.

“see you around!” he yells, still wearing a wide grin. 

he remains standing there even though you’re already gone from sight. 

hit with a useless yet concerning epiphany, he blinks.

“she rides the motorbike wearing heels?”

—

 

jungkook’s misery has been pushed to the back of his mind, replaced by an overwhelming giddiness that causes him to drop everything on the floor and jump on his bed. he buries his head into the pillow, but it does nothing to erase the happy grin that’s threatening to make his cheeks sore.

what a small world, huh? 

what is this if not fate?

he flips over and stares at the ceiling as if it’s the starry night sky.

this might just become the best summer of his life. 

—

jungkook comes out fresh from the shower clad only in a pair of black boxer shorts. he hangs the towel he was drying his hair with over his nape, heading to the kitchen to prepare his dinner. he rips the lid of the cup ramyeon halfway, and as he pours hot water into it from the electric kettle, your face appears on his mind again. 

wait, there’s something wrong…

he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to figure out what it is he forgot.

“ah, i’m so stupid!”

he totally forgot to ask your name! 

“shit!” he shouts in higher volume when he realizes that the water has overflowed and is now dripping to the floor. 

he puts the kettle down, taking a few steps back from the mess he made. praise heavens the water wasn’t hot enough for his toes to suffer anything more than a first-degree burn. 

he starts to look around for anything he can wipe the floor with, his tongue poking his inner cheek. 

“still having a bad day.” 

—

but a bad day isn’t enough to break down jungkook’s spirit. he knows there will always come a tomorrow, so he seizes that tomorrow and comes home from work as fast as he can. there’s a big chance that you leave for work around the same time, right? 

so he sits down on the sofa facing the aquarium, and he waits. 

his head turns to the elevator each time it dings.

he taps his foot on the floor.

he checks tomorrow’s weather forecast on the app. clear skies. no chance of rain. high humidity levels.

he goes through the magazines laid out on the coffee table. he learns five ways to get over heartbreak. according to the quiz, he has a sweet and passionate personality based on the flavor of his lip balm. he thinks it’s pretty accurate. strawberry, he strokes his non-existent beard. could never go wrong with it.

next thing he knows, the clock strikes twelve. 

he can no longer control his excessive yawning but his stomach is just screaming for the pack of jjajangmyeon in his cupboard. 

he presses the elevator button with a tight-lipped smile. he’s disappointed that he didn’t see you at all today, but he was raised to have a positive outlook in life. you live in the same building. you have to run into each other again one of these days. 

—

what does jungkook hate more than normal sundays? sundays when he didn’t get enough sleep. 

for some reason, he’s still tragically stuck with working on the worst day of the week despite his repeated objections. the only upside to this particular sunday is that he is assigned to the ferris wheel. in exchange for thrice the amount of his daily wage in discreet tips, what happens in some of those cabins are none of his business. 

if he ends up getting reassigned, he would be pretty fucking pissed off. 

he’s restless as the elevator descends to the ground floor. he’s munching on a protein bar, jogging in place as to warm up his body for a race to the bus stop. 

he can’t be the one manning the bump cars. bump cars are the worst. those kids hit you on purpose, he swears. 

the elevator dings and he runs.

until an eye-catching color forces him to pull the brakes. his sneakers squeak against the tiled floor. 

your back may be facing him, but he can recognize you from that cotton candy hair even from a mile away. you’re right where he was hoping you’d be last night, conversing with one of the janitors. this really isn’t the best time for your paths to cross again, given the reasons he was just grouching about, but his feet refuse to move. 

you go on your tiptoes to sprinkle fish feed into the aquarium. you’re so adorable in your pajamas; you’re almost drowning in the black and white checkered cloth. are those yours in the first place?

“everything you need to know is written here… how much- how often you should feed them depending on the seasons, depending on how big they’ve gotten… jungkook worked really hard in researching. impressive, don’t you think?”

“i see…” he is finally granted his wish to hear your soft voice. “but why don’t they have names?”

the janitor scratches his head at your question. “they look too alike to have names.” 

“hello! i heard my name!” jungkook pops in without a warning, causing mister park to flinch and slap a hand over his chest in shock. 

“jungkook! i’m 71 years old! you could’ve killed me!” 

“oh, that’s right-” he gasps. “grandpa, i’m sorry!”

jungkook attacks him with a bear hug, playfully rocking their bodies back and forth hoping that would calm down his vulnerable heart. for a brief moment, he feels like a child again. 

“this is jungkook.” 

the introduction was already made for him. that’s one less thing he has to overthink. 

“____ here wants to feed the fishes every morning from now on. i told her it’s perfectly alright with me.” the janitor laughs. “with my age, you know how forgetful i’ve become.” 

“really?” he breaks away, surprised by what he just learned. “that’s so nice!” 

“it’s nothing. i’m happy to do it.” you smile and make eye-contact with him, but you soon break it, opting to glance at the aquarium. 

you must like fishes a lot. he only felt bad for them because the janitor on night shift doesn’t give a single fuck about them; that’s why he did all that research hoping it would help with committing to the responsibility, which jungkook ended up shouldering in the end anyway. but you… you’ve been here for what? two? three days? 

“tell you what…” he brings out the pen he keeps in the side pocket of his backpack. “this- this is my phone number. if you need anything, or incase you need someone else to feed them, contact me!” 

he scribbles down his phone number on the notepad grandpa was showing you before his rude interruption. 

“by the way, my unit is 1311. you can also just-” he knocks on the thin air, clicking his tongue to mimic the sound. “knock on my door.” 

jungkook’s watch beeps twice everyday, once at 8:50am and then at 11pm sharp. the sun is burning bright and his shift starts at 9am. yes, he is nervous infront of a girl who is drop-dead gorgeous, but he should also be very much nervous about the (unfair) deduction from his measly salary. 

“okay, i need to run to work! goodbye!” 

—

so, his name is jungkook…

you crane your head to watch him rush out of the building. the uncomfortable sound of his sneakers squeaking against the floor makes you grimace. 

the page he wrote his number on is ripped off from the notepad and handed to you. 

“he’s a good kid.”

you force yourself to smile, and it slowly fades as you tilt down your chin and stare at the string of numbers in blue ink.

long after the janitor has left to fulfill his long list of tasks, you remain standing by the aquarium. 

“you do have someone taking good care of you.” you whisper to the clueless fishes, caressing the glass. a genuine smile appears when two of them swim towards you, beady eyes trying to make sense of the stranger loitering around their homey cage. “you can breathe well and you’re warm in the winter. that’s a relief.” 

after feeding them, next on the agenda is to cook your own breakfast. you head for the elevator, tossing the crumpled up paper into the trash bin before pressing the arrow pointing towards north. 

—

“hyung…”

“why?” 

jungkook sighs. “can you text me?” 

“text you what?” seokjin’s forehead creases in confusion. 

“anything. i just need to make sure my phone still works.” 

thursday has been a slow day at the amusement park despite the school vacation and no one has tried to win a teddy bear since the place opened. seokjin is more than happy to spend his free time playing games on his phone in his own little corner at the amusement park. 

well, that was before jungkook got bored at the ping pong toss booth and decided to hang out at the other side of the wall. 

he shrugs and texts his younger friend the word ‘anything’ just to get him off his back. he goes back to playing his game, not curious enough to interrogate him with additional questions. 

jungkook’s text tone rings at max volume. 

“it does work!” he yells in exasperation, flopping down at his seat. “why hasn’t she texted me?”

“you were whining about the same thing the other day.” seokjin muses as his car crosses the finish line. second place. “you fool, just text her first.”

“i don’t have her number.”

“what do you mean you don’t have her number?”

“i gave her mine.” jungkook says quietly. “we live in the same building and i told her to contact me if she needs anything.”

“then i guess it’s safe to say that she doesn’t need anything from you.” 

“seriously, why can’t i have friends that are nice to me?!” 

seokjin bursts out laughing, definitely not a stranger to jungkook and taehyung’s bickering at the break room. 

“you did this one to yourself! jungkook, flirt better!” 

“easier said than done,” jungkook pouts. 

you make him nervous. his brain goes blank when you’re around. in addition to that, he doesn’t know what you’re going through and he’s scared that you’d end up pushing him away if he oversteps. 

“i gave her candy when we first met and she threw them away.” 

“oh, that’s right,” seokjin loads a new game, snorting. “taehyung told me about that.” 

jungkook’s jaw drops. “is he backstabbing me?”

—

jungkook enters the break room with yet another item from the lost-and-found. it’s been over two weeks since he found this orange beanie on the ground. must’ve fallen from the rollercoaster, that’s his best guess. 

since no one has claimed it— “finders keepers,” he grins as he stuffs it into his backpack. 

“thief,” seokjin jokingly accuses him from the other side of the table. “that’s how you were raised?”

“says the one who took the sony headphones yesterday.” 

“i won it fair and square!” 

he’d argue with the older man again, but his phone vibrating has stolen his full attention. he is hit with disappointment at the same moment that he snatches it from the table. it’s his mom, again, asking him when he’s coming home. 

“you need to stop doing that. it’s getting sad.”

he sighs, hugging his backpack to hide his pitiful face. “i am sad.” 

—

his walks home from the bus stop have always been a period for reflection and pondering. the streets of seoul are scattered with his indecision, worries, and anger. since his mother has been asking him for months, should he just go home and endure their living situation? maybe it’s better to be annoyed with the presence of people instead of being blue with a lack thereof. 

so much for being independent. he spent most of high school anticipating the day he gets to move out, now he wants nothing but to go home. he can’t help but to think that life is but a vicious cycle of wanting and losing. 

too lost in thought, he fails to realize right away that he has entered his apartment building’s vicinity. it’s the smell of cigarette smoke that brings him back to reality. the alley is dark, but he can make out the silhouette of a figure crouched down on the ground. assuming that it’s one of the guards hiding to smoke, he soundlessly enters the confined space with mischief up his sleeve. 

when he gets close enough, the first thing he sees is the tip of the cigarette still burning red as the smoker takes a puff.

a car with blinding headlights zooms past.

it becomes unmistakable then— the identity of the person ten feet away from him. 

there’s no one around here with same hair color. 

none that he knows of anyway. 

he is motionless; clueless as to what he should do. he should probably turn his back and leave. pretend this never happened. he never saw anything. 

he can’t even be hung up on the fact that you smoke. if he thinks back on his past experiences with dating, this would’ve been a turn-off, but he loses the ability to care. the smoke in his lungs is negligible when your wounded sobs are breaking his heart. it’s ridiculous that the urge to also cry is spreading fast in his system, but he had a long day and he feels really fucking shitty. 

you were going to notice his presence eventually. 

he doesn’t know what he was expecting. 

you lift your head, and eye-contact is made. none of you chooses to speak a word. 

you’re as beautiful as the day he first met you.

you stand on your feet and you step on the cigarette, on the emotional connection he swore you had, crushing it under the weight of your boot. 

he blinks away the tears threatening to escape his eyes. he should say something; offer an apology for intruding on a vulnerable moment, but you walk past him before he could form the words, shoulder harshly bumping against him. 

could have it been on purpose? 

“____!” he says your name for the first time, for what sounds like a plea. he follows you home like a lost puppy. “i’m sorry, i-i wasn’t… i thought you were another person… are you okay?”

“what do you think?” you spit out. the delicate voice he knows isn’t there, gone harsh and hoarse. 

“is there anything i can do?”

no response. 

he tries again. “anything at all?” 

“oh my god, can’t you take a hint? leave me alone!” 

your sudden outburst sends him stumbling backwards, the sensation of your hands on his chest still lingering despite the distance that was forcefully created between the two of you. 

“i don’t know you! stay away from me!” 

your infuriated voice echoes throughout the lobby. he is shocked. dumbfounded. his eyes, out of focus, seek your face, and he finds you heaving with tearful eyes. 

he makes an attempt to speak, something to defend himself with, but in the end, he still says, “i’m sorry.” 

a woman walks out of the elevator, and you immediately enter without looking back. jungkook remains standing where he is, with strangers’ eyes on him as if he has committed a grave crime.

—

you slam the door shut, hand still covering your mouth shut despite no one being around to hear your cries. you don’t bother turning on the lights. your shoulder bag falls somewhere on the floor and you collapse on the bed, still in your jeans and your heels hanging off your feet. 

nothing matters anymore.

you’re suffering the punishment of somebody else’s crime. you’ve been casted out, stripped away of your dreams and your dignity. your life is over and you’ve accepted that, but maybe you haven’t. all is unfair. you’re so fucking angry but you’re too tired to feel it. and you’re alone. so alone. no one is on your side and it’s not fair. 

you try to scream out, anything to release your pent-up rage, but it doesn’t happen. apparently, that’s what happens when enough people tell you to bite your tongue raw. 

they say we curl up into the fetal position as a natural response to stress and anxiety because it mimics the sense of security we had when we were in our mother’s womb. the way you see it, your body will always be yours and it is the only one that you need.

so you curl up and you put your arms around yourself. you pat your own back until your wrist falls limp from exhaustion, and you keep your eyes closed until you fall into a deep sleep.  

you pray to god that you never wake up.

—

you fail to achieve peace even in your dreams. in what is supposedly an imaginary land, you were being chased by faceless agitators with torches and pitchforks. you were crying and screaming, running on bare and bloody feet, tripping on branches and the stones they were throwing. 

you open your eyes to darkness.

just as you predicted; nobody listens. 

you feel nothing anymore and you hope it stays that way. if you can’t escape it, then perhaps, you can be desensitized to its horrors. 

you force yourself to sit up on the bed, spending an unknown length of time staring into the void. 

the first coherent thought formed in your head… no, not a thought… a person. 

your bare feet brave the cold floor. the switch of the desk lamp is flicked as you sit at your desk. you grab a pen to write something on the free space of your opened journal pages. 

under those numbers, you note down the name of the owner in cursive.

—

after the shitshow that transpired earlier, sleep became impossible for jungkook. 

he doesn’t quite understand how he feels about you. however, it’s currently clear that there’s a part of him that’s pissed off. you made yourself very clear. he should maintain distance from now on. that’s the sensible, respectable thing to do. at this point, attempts at initiating any form of relationship with you appear to be futile. you’re a stranger to him, as you emphasized. this shouldn’t be as complicated as it is in his head… but fuck, the memories of your tear-stained face is corrupting his ability to rationalize.

it’s 2:33am. he’s been playing the guitar infront of the camera for an hour and a half already. the comment section is flooded by sleep-deprived people like him, sending song requests and questions about his personal life. 

yes, he’s about to be in third year college. 

no, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. 

no, he can’t mention where he lives… but sure, he can sing ‘beautiful’ by crush. 

“what do you mean? i just finished playing it ten seconds ago!” he squints as he scrolls through the new wave of comments. “sorry, art commissions are still closed. i’m behind on my workload… no, i’m not sleepy! don’t send me to bed yet… knees by iu? i love that song. should i play that next?”

his phone vibrates with a new text message, nearly causing it to fall from the stack of books he set it up on. 

“oh- what was tha- what do i do? wait, everyone. i need to check on something!”

the live is temporarily put on pause. 

“who is this?”

his eyebrows knit in confusion when he is greeted by an unregistered phone number.

  2:45am

hi, jungkook. this is ____. i wanted to apologize for my behavior at the lobby earlier. i understand you were only concerned. i’m so sorry. i’d love to buy you coffee some time to make it up to you, if that’s ok. 

this is real, right? he’s awake. he’s not hallucinating. the text message indicates your name and it says that you’d love to buy him coffee some time. 

a gasp leaves his mouth, his hand flying up to seal his lips. 

you texted him. you finally texted him.

he was starting to get convinced that you also threw away his number, but you didn’t! 

he weakly sets down the phone, brain still processing the message you sent. does this make sense?

“i shouldn’t reply right away… maybe in the morning…” he nods to affirm myself. “that’s right.” 

he begins chuckling out of nowhere. soon enough, those chuckles become chortles. he must be going insane. he picks up the phone and reads the message again. 

“she sounds pretty even in chat. how is that possible?” he spins on his chair, so carefree. “but honestly, is one coffee enough for what she did?” 

he shakes his head with a click his tongue. 

“i don’t think so…”

hold on…

it feels like he’s forgetting something…

“ah, the live!” he jumps on his seat in panic. 

he swipes out of the text message to go back to the app where he abandoned his thousand viewers.

“sorry, i made money.” he mumbles to himself. “i should end it now.” 

—

his mood has done a 180. his routine consists of feeding the fishes dinner, and then himself, but he decided to skip the second part earlier for reasons that he has forgotten by now. 

his stomach growls at his selfish decision. 

given the time, he considered food delivery, but the fee made him exit the app immediately. he hasn’t gone to the grocery store as of recent either. the fridge has been wasting electricity, but his pride won’t let him turn it off. 

how did people live without convenience stores before? that is what jungkook marvels about as he crosses the long hallway to reach the elevator. 

a door ahead opens, and he would ignore it if not for one of the two people who comes out from the other side of it. 

there is a man in his late 20’s, and then there is… you. 

you are the deer and jungkook is the blinding headlights. 

—

the coffee you originally offered jungkook has turned into a full meal. when you arrived at the convenience store, he knew what he wanted right away. he grabbed the biggest cup of ramyeon and tteokbokki, an egg, sausage, and cheese. he refused to let you pay for them at first, but there was nothing left to do after you handed the cashier the money. 

the action was done out of obligation rather than will, but seeing how much he’s enjoying the food, you’re a little less displeased with the circumstances. 

“is that all you’re eating? we can share mine.” 

“it’s okay. i’m not that hungry.” 

with the money you had left, you were able to afford a roll of gimbap. maybe it’s not enough to make you full, but it’s enough to satiate your hunger. you slowly chew the food in your mouth, an effort to hide your smile as you discretely observe jungkook devour his rabokki. 

“the man from earlier, is he your brother?”

your chewing is put on pause. “how did you know?” 

“how? it’s easy!” 

he cheekily points at his nose using his chopsticks. 

“you have the exact same nose.” 

“ugh,” you grimace. “i’m tired of hearing that.” 

your list of similarities ends there. he’s the golden child and you’re the black sheep. if your parents find out that he comes to visit you and he sends you money, they’d only see you in worse light.

“i know,” jungkook scrunches his nose. “i have an older brother too.” 

cute. 

“so… why did you lie?”

he’s seriously asking you like this? so casually?

you awkwardly set down your food on the table and you take your time sipping at your coffee to buy yourself some time.

—

“i was embarrassed with what happened before… me crying at the boat and everything…”

you’re having a hard time looking at jungkook in the eye. sensing your discomfort, he wants to punch himself for being so careless with his tone. until moments before, he felt too offended to consider the fact that you never owed him an explanation. 

“you don’t have to be. it’s okay.” he reassures you. “we all have bad days.”

it doesn’t work the way that he thought it would. when you start laughing, he is lost. 

“did i say something funny?” he chuckles along nervously. 

“that quote, ‘it’s just a bad day, not a bad life.’” 

“yeah?” 

“it’s the opposite for me. it’s not just a bad day; it’s a bad life.”  

you speak with such endearing humor and it works like a charm in making the atmosphere lighter. he’d pass it off as a self-deprecating joke, but based on your few yet impactful encounters so far, he doesn’t think you’re stretching the truth far. if he’s being honest, if your first meeting happened differently, he’d assume that you’re living a perfectly comfortable life based on your appearance alone.

“even now, i’m too embarrassed to show my face to you. but we’re neighbors, so i’ll try to get over it.”

“tell you what, let’s start with a clean slate.” he eagerly makes a proposal. “you can erase all the embarrassing memories of you from my brain.”

“h-how do i do that?” 

“flick my forehead!”

you blink, eyes darting around as you try to make sense of what he said. “i was expecting some sort of stupid hypnosis.”

“or that,” he switches up, slapping the table as if you just came up with something revolutionary. 

why did he say flick his forehead anyway? he knows you gotta have an overwhelming amount of pent-up emotions. you could go deku on him and blow his head off. 

“let’s do that!”

“no, i like it.” you almost interrupt him. “i’ll flick your forehead.” 

but he did suggest it… and you act so gentle and sophisticated. he doubts that you would make it hurt. 

“here i go!”

he gets his bangs out of the way. “okay!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact. “please have mercy.” 

son of a bitch. that hurt. 

“ow!” he rubs the affected area, face twisting in pain. his eyes flicker to you in disbelief. “you didn’t hold back, huh?!” 

you smile at him sweetly. “did it work?”

  —

“you fed them, right?”

“of course i did. you?”

“yes, this morning.”

“okay, that’s good.”

you and jungkook sit in silence after that, eyes twinkling with wonder as they follow the stunning movements of the goldfishes. 

deep inside, he’s feeling restless. you make him nervous, and he’s also nervous about you noticing that he’s nervous. it’s been a tireless cycle. 

he sneaks a glance at you.

perhaps he’s overthinking again. it seems like you don’t even care that he’s less than an arm’s length from you. 

he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. 

he sighs without a sound, comfortably leaning all of his weight on the couch. 

“it’s called the dreamboat.”

“what is?” 

the boat you cried in— can’t say that. you might flick his forehead again. 

“at the amusement park.” 

“oh…”

it falls silent. 

jungkook is thankful when you have a follow-up question because he hasn’t thought of a new topic yet. 

“i wonder why they called it that.”

“oh, because the owner’s daughter loves boats!” he shares one of the few fun facts he learned over the past year. “that’s why it was designed like it came from a fairy tale too.” 

a mirthful smile forms on your face “my guess was too far off.” 

“what was it?” 

“mhmm,” you hum, folding your arms over your chest. “dreamboat is a word used to describe a handsome man, right?”

jungkook nods his head like he knew that all along. no, he didn’t. 

“so i imagined the owner met their handsome partner on a boat- no, or a ship,” the epiphany hits you in the middle of your sentence. “they have to be rich since they built an amusement park.”

a romantic. you imagined a love story based on a word alone. jungkook’s teeth dig into his lower lip as he tries to tame his wide grin. 

“that does sound like a good theory.” he casually bends over, resting his elbows over his spread thighs. “i think i like it better than the truth.”

“how did you know that though? the truth?”

he shrugs. “i work there.”

“you work there?” your voice goes up a pitch. “i didn’t know…”

“you? do you study or work?”

“call center,” you answer to get it over with. to his surprise, your body language shifts and you’re now facing him. “what’s it like working there? is it fun?” 

apparently, a job at the amusement park is now joining his very short list of your interests: after motorbikes, smoking, and fishes.

“it has good days and bad days…” he trails off. he hasn’t truly given this much thought, so he’s also learning about himself. “but i didn’t expect it to be as fun as it is. sometimes it’s boring, but when it’s fun, it’s really fun.”

you scoot closer. “do you get to ride for free?”

ah, yes, the deciding factor when he was offered the job. 

“there’s an employee discount, actually! but i do it for free anyway…” he shyly scratches his head. “don’t tell anyone i said that.” 

“i don’t have anyone to tell.” 

his heart skips a beat when he hears your laugh genuinely for the first time. quiet and delicate and airy— you grace this blue summer night like a spring breeze that takes away with it everything that burdens your mind and heart. 

once again, the aquarium becomes the most interesting collection of atoms in the building. as for him, he is still unable to keep his eyes off you. 

“did you have a pet fish growing up? you really like them a lot.”

“no,” you reply. “i didn’t care about them until now.”

“really?” his eyes grow wide. “wow, i seriously thought you were a marine life enthusiast, or something like that.” 

you give him a look. “i thought you were a marine life enthusiast.”

“we were both wrong.” he shrugs. “but what made you care about them so much now?”

“i don’t know. i just thought of something when i was looking at them.” 

he feels your hesitance to continue. your eyes connect briefly and he communicates that he’s listening with an open mind.

“they’re different from other pets, you know, like cats and dogs. they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.” 

in the dark room, he sees the melancholy seeping from the cracked edges of you. although you act relaxed, your spoken thoughts paint the picture of a person whose sensitivity and sympathy touch upon everything. 

“there should at least be somebody who cares enough to check up on them and make sure that they’re alive and well.” 

“…and you wanted to be that somebody for them.” he concludes with a hushed voice, more to himself than you. 

“but it turns out they have you already.”

“it’s not just me now.”

he mirrors your soft smile. it’s nice to see your frown turned upside down for a change. what was weighing down on him has become lighter, and he hopes it’s the same for you.

“the sun is about to rise.” you announce after a peek at the grandfather clock. “we should go home.”

jungkook isn’t a big fan of comfortable silence, but he can get used to it. he maintains a respectable distance from you in the elevator, engaging himself with the ascending number of floors on the screen. when the door opens, you’re the first to step out and he follows suit. 

your destination isn’t far. you pause in front of unit 1303.

“uhm, this is me.” 

yup, the same door he saw you come out of. 

“i’m not far, just at the end of the hall. 1311, if you ever need anything.”

your eyes trace the direction of where he’s pointing before you nod in understanding. with a hand gripping the door handle, you offer him one final smile.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

—

if others cheese over good morning texts first thing after opening their eyes, then jungkook’s case is one of a kind. 

he rolls over to his side, puffy eyes from sleep forming thinner crescent moons as he zooms in on your reflection on the glass. 

  10:08am

[attached image]

they’re happy and fed :)

10:10am

[attached image]

babies are getting bigger

this is how his mornings have been going for the past two weeks. he wakes up and he checks his phone for fish breakfast updates from you. in return, he sends fish dinner updates to you at night. he was the first one to send you a picture following the night you awkwardly bumped into each other. he didn’t want to wait around anymore.

were his palms sweaty? did he throw his phone on the bed after? 

no longer relevant. 

he now knows that your favorite color is blue and you have wednesdays and fridays off for the next month. that’s pretty cool. 

another thing he’s taken notice of is that you don’t use emojis or emoticons aside from the smiley face. 

although, there was once a miracle.

he scrolls up until he reaches your conversation from four days ago.

  11:59pm

LOL i’m actually allergic to seafood ㅜㅜ

😭😭😭

“ah, i’m annoyed!” he kicks his feet; half of the blanket falls to the floor. “she’s so cute!” 

things are indeed going great, greater than he imagined, but if he has to complain, he wishes he could see you in person more. he’s at work when you’re home and vice versa, so you don’t cross paths despite living on the same apartment floor. that 3am encounter was a rare phenomenon, it turns out. he chanced upon you a few times while running to work and you were feeding the fishes breakfast, but those conversations were barely conversations. 

‘i just thought of something when i was looking at them… they can’t make a sound when they’re in pain.’

he hasn’t stopped thinking about that. 

—

“when are you asking her out on a date?”

taehyung is on a mission to tease him for life even from daegu. he’s only thankful that his best friend isn’t video calling him from the toilet again because he’s currently having his lunch. 

“i don’t know.” he grouches. “it doesn’t feel like the right time. i don’t want to scare her off.” 

“when’s that ‘right time’?” 

“i’ll figure it out…” he sighs, setting down the half-eaten sandwich on the table. “how do i say it…? i feel like- hm, she’s no- she’s not in the best emotional state right now.” 

“so you admit it,” taehyung raises an eyebrow, smirking. “she has issues.”

that didn’t sit right with jungkook at all. he feels obligated to defend your honor. 

“hey, stop being rude. you haven’t even met her yet.” 

“come on, bro! i’m only looking out for you.” 

the atmosphere shifts into a more serious tone.

“i don’t want you to get hurt trying to fix another person again. it was hard to watch.”

he moved on and learned his lesson— he wants to spit out as a rebuttal, but his best friend gave him much to think about. would it make sense to say that he’s moved on but he hasn’t healed? 

“i know,” is what he ends up saying absentmindedly, distracted by thoughts that he isn’t keen on sharing. 

and as if he’s been slapped back into reality, he fixes his posture and picks up his sandwich. “so, what’s up? have you even slept yet?”

“no,” taehyung responds nonchalantly. between the two of them, he absolutely has the more fucked up sleeping schedule. “i’ve been awake since 12am.”

“didn’t you say you’d spend the entire vacation sleeping?”

“this vacation was a trap.”

the camera darts to the abandoned mop on the floor.

“my mom makes me do all the chores everyday. this is worse than my actual job!” 

a devilish grin is drawn on jungkook’s face. ah, the grass is always greener on the other side.

  

—

“mondays stay to be a pain in the ass.”

does it look like he’s exhausted and dirty from chasing around children all day? jungkook is stressed as he checks himself out on his front camera. he’s walking home from the bus stop after clocking out of work. 

the street is mostly quiet, until a roaring engine approaches and he cringes at the raucous sound assaulting his eardrums. he’s already at the sidewalk for his safety and in accordance with the law, but he feels compelled to stay further back and wait for the vehicle to pass by. 

seconds later, a black harley races past.

jungkook is dumbfounded as he tries to piece the puzzle together. 

the lights are bright, and your pink hair blowing with the wind is even brighter. 

“w-was that…?”

—

he was going to bring it up over text last night, but he decided to reserve it for physical conversation because he wants to see your face light up again. 

you’re so fucking cool. 

he’s both amazed and envious. 

also, he’s pretty damn sure that you’re rich. he doesn’t understand why you’re living in this place and enduring the graveyard shift at the call center. 

a foolish smile is permanently plastered on his face as he sketches a commissioned digital portrait. he really should focus, or else he might end up drawing you instead of his client. 

he spins on his chair, pushing the wheels towards the bed, where he comfortably extends his feet over. almost missed it. the power has been out for an hour and he doesn’t expect it to come back until dawn. he was pissed about this being a normal occurrence during the first year of his stay here, but he’s gotten quite used to it. invested in a powerbank that almost looks like it can charge a car’s battery and he’s all set. 

the aggressive pounding at the door drowns out the pop ballad he’s listening to.

“what? who could it be at this hour?” 

he pauses the song, turning up the brightness of his ipad to use it as a makeshift flashlight. 

the last person he expected to appear at his door says the last thing he expected them to say. 

“jungkook, i think there’s a ghost in my apartment.”

—

jungkook sets down a hot cup of tea infront of you. in his mind, he thanks himself for keeping everything his mom sends him, even the things he do not like. 

“thanks,” you mumble, picking it up by the handle. 

he patiently sits on the other side of the table for two, giving you the time to calm yourself down from the horror that you witnessed. he has his emergency light propped up on the kitchen counter. he was saving it for when he finds himself in a grave situation, like a total blackout or an apocalypse. he didn’t imagine he’d end up using it for an unusual night like this. 

“are you feeling better?” he asks worriedly.

you nod. “yeah, i just don’t want to be alone right now.” 

“i’m here. you can stay until whenever you want.”

“thank you.”

you sigh with your eyes closed. you look like life has been drained out of you. 

“i’m really scared, jungkook.”

“are you sure about what you saw? i mean, it’s dark. your mind could’ve been playing tricks on you.”

“i saw him. i really him saw him!” you frantically defend yourself. “i was washing my hands then i turned around and i saw him, sitting at the edge of my bed! he looked at me!” 

his heart drops to his stomach when your chin begins to wobble and he sees your eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“and his skin was burnt off, jungkook.” you enunciate the words to emphasize the severity of what you experienced. “it’s so horrifying, i had to run.” 

“hey hey hey- it’s okay. i believe you.” he squeezes your cold, trembling hands. “you’re safe now. it’s only us here. no spirits- i promise.” 

he’s losing his mind a little bit. he’s holding the hands of the girl he likes and her pinky is wrapped around his. you’ve been putting him through a rollercoaster that, for once, he is terrified of. he wants to bask in this moment… but the specific detail you revealed is bothering him.

“and you said… he was burnt?” 

“yeah, why?”

he presses his lips in a thin line, shaking his head. “no, it’s nothing.”

“there’s something.” you stop crying. “i see it on your face.”

“i swear, it's nothing!”

“you’re lying!” you accuse him. “what is it?”

“forget it, ____.”

“jungkook,” you say his name sternly. “tell me.”

shit, he’s done for. you can’t do this to him when he’s trying to protect you.

he swallows nervously. “but i don’t want to scare you.” 

“i saw a ghost. what else can scare me?”

“the truth is…” he pauses, still weighed down by hesitance. but he realizes he has reached the point of no return. also, you’re squeezing his hands a little too tight. “this building had to be restored. it burned down a decade ago. people suspect there was foul play, but the firemen said it was faulty wiring.” 

he’s the one telling the story, but he also feels chills run down his spine. 

“oh… so you’re saying…”

“i… believe so?” he winces with a mix of guilt and fear. “but it’s the first time i’m hearing of a ghost story here. i haven’t had any encounter either.” 

“i need to move.” you declare, not an ounce of humor in your voice. 

“don’t!” he protests. 

perhaps a little too passionately. could he be any more obvious? 

“what do you mean? you need to leave too!”

“i can’t,” he fakes a pained expression. “who’s going to take care of the fishes?” 

that works like a charm. 

you untangle your hands and lean against the chair, transforming into a pensive state. 

if he wasn’t going to convince you to stay, the fishes would. 

“fuck,” you curse in a low whisper, sipping on your tea. 

—

“i’m not the spoiled brat you think i am.” you frown, dangling your feet from the bed. “i sleep on the floor too.” 

“i’d be rude if i let you do that.” jungkook insists as he fluffs his pillow. “i’m comfortable right here. i’m used to it.” 

he was relieved that you weren’t stubborn enough to go back to your place and force yourself to sleep there. after seeing how terrified you were, it would’ve been impossible for him to close his eyes and shut down his brain from worrying. he hasn’t seen a ghost, but they have to be real. he likes to believe that we do not cease to exist and we have some place to go when we die. however, that does co-exist with being alarmed by a ghost of a burnt body sitting on your bed. he isn’t going to let you go back in there tonight. no way.

“you should get some rest. just tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“thank you, jungkook.” 

“it’s no problem!”

his name sounds so sweet when it comes from your lips. he can’t help but to feel giddy every time he hears it. 

you lie down on the bed, facing the portable fan strategically set up on jungkook’s gaming chair. on the other hand, the emergency light is at the nightstand, acting as a night lamp. 

he checks the time on his ipad: 1:48am. his battery percentage: 55%. he’s not yet sleepy, so he decides to continue working until he gets the low battery warning for 20%. 

sitting down without back support becomes too uncomfortable after a while, especially when drawing. he doesn’t realize it when he changes positions, too focused on drawing the intricate floral patterns on the client’s blouse. 

“is that your girlfriend?” 

jungkook turns his head towards the voice and your face is only inches away from his. the word stops for a moment.

“is she okay with me sleeping here?” 

he scoots a little further away to grant his racing heart some mercy. “u-uhmm, no.”

“no…?” you repeat slowly, sounding concerned.

“no, as in she’s not my girlfriend!” he further elaborates in distress. “i don’t have a girlfriend.”

“okay, cool. you scared me.” you huff out a chuckle. “i don’t like being the girl who causes problems.” 

“no, you’re safe.” he manages to also laugh. “no one’s coming to pull your hair.”

“then who is she?” you point at the screen with your pouted lips, particularly the reference photo that’s been burnt to his memory. 

“a client. people pay me to draw them.”

“oh, so she’s one of your french girls?” you crack a humorous remark.

the reference catches him off guard, even though he should’ve totally seen it coming.

he squints. “mhmmm, i guess? kind of like that… except they’re not, you know, naked.”

“i see,” you hum in interest. “you don’t like doing nude drawings?” 

“honestly? i don’t know. i’ve never done it before.” 

“no one’s asked you?”

he shakes his head. “no one,”

“would you do mine if i ask you to?” 

he secretly pinches his thigh to prove that he’s not dreaming. 

what the fuck?

did he hear you right? 

it sounded like such a genuine and casual question in the name of art, but the worst thing he could do while his crush is sleeping over is to imagine her naked. he feels the warmth spread across his cheeks, possibly reaching his ears. 

“hey, breathe!” you giggle with a push of his shoulder. “you don’t have to answer that. sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“sorry, i was just surprised.” 

he forces himself to laugh and act like the question isn’t putting him through a crisis in so many levels. 

“i’ll let you finish your work.” you smile at him, pulling up the blanket. 

please do and stop shaking up my heart. 

“goodnight.” 

“goodnight, ____.” 

—

jungkook is still flustered by the conversation. since you opened up the topic, he did give it some serious thought. he thinks he wouldn’t mind if someone asked him to do it. he makes all of his negotiations and transactions online so everyone so far have been a stranger. as for the people he personally know, unless it’s his significant other, wouldn’t it be awkward? 

anyway, the chances of it happening are low. stressing over it is pointless.

he needs to finish this commission and move on to the next, or else he’d be encumbered by the pile of deadlines. he’s making the most out of this vacation so he can save more money and work won’t have to interfere so often with his studies. 

sometimes he doesn’t understand why he works so hard either. his family isn’t struggling financially. in fact, he’s studying to take over their businesses. his parents have been nothing but kind and supportive, but he is never compelled to ask them for money. he feels this strong and all-consuming need to prove himself as capable and independent. nothing compares to the gratification of buying his wants and needs with the money he sacrificed his blood, sweat, and tears for. he can’t stop himself.

“i can’t sleep…” a quiet murmur reaches his ears. “may i watch you draw?” 

oh, he thought you’ve fallen asleep twenty minutes ago. 

“of course,” 

he is more than happy to move closer to give you a good view of his progress. 

if there’s one thing he isn’t ashamed to boast about— it’s this. 

it’s silent except for your breathing and the taps of his pen on the screen. he’s a tad self-conscious with the presence of engrossed eyes, but he would describe the atmosphere as peaceful. 

“you’re such a great artist.” you whisper in awe. 

jungkook can’t recall the last time he felt this simple yet profound type of joy. 

—

true to your words, you did move as morning came. 

jungkook wakes up to an empty bed and a commotion outside. 

“____?” 

he knocks on the bathroom door, not expecting it to swing open from the action. he takes his chances and peeks inside with another call of your name, but you’re still nowhere to be seen. 

did you really leave without saying goodbye? 

he sighs in disappointment. he was planning on buying you breakfast, too. he knew it. he should’ve made the invitation last night. 

a series of loud thumps prompts him to scratch his head in irritation. he’s tired and sleep-deprived and he didn’t see his crush’s face first thing in the morning. the day has barely started and it’s already a bad one.

he opens the door with a considerable force, mouth running before his eyes could perceive his surroundings. 

“could you guys turn it down? people are still slee-”

“jungkook! you’re awake.” 

you jog over to him with a more cheery expression than last night’s. there’s no windows but the sun is shining over his face.

“sorry about the noise. i’m moving to a new unit.”

he can see that, but his brain remains in a muddled state. how did you make the arrangements overnight? he gapes at the men hauling your things to your new apartment.

“1309?” he exclaims.

“yeah,” you shyly reply. “it’s the only vacant one left.” 

almost but not quite. does he have the right to complain? you’d be one door away. 

he’s fucking ecstatic. 

if he just sets aside the fact that it took a ghastly ghost encounter for the stars to align. 

the wrinkles on his forehead disappear and become crinkles by his eyes, accompanied by an excited beam. 

“should we feed them together then grab breakfast after?” 

—

time passes by too fast for jungkook’s liking. summer vacation ended a month ago and he’s back to busting his ass off at the university. he misses the days and nights when the only thing he was going insane about is you. 

what’s taking you so long to reply? did he say something stupid? does he look nice? smell nice? are you crying again? that ghost isn’t bothering you again, is he? 

now that he needs to focus on something less interesting, say studying taxation and business law for subsequent long quizzes tomorrow, he’s back to crushing cans of energy drinks. 

fuck, he misses you. 

your purple hair tie is still wrapped around the knob of his bathroom sink faucet and he keeps forgetting to give it back to you. you make him nervous but he forgets he ever felt that way after five minutes with you. he craves to be connected with you on a more intimate level. he wants to be more than just a neighbor you make small talk with, over text. he wants to be more than a friend you sometimes eat with, on your days off. but he likes you so much that he can be content with the way things are, so long as it means you won’t go further away. 

he’s absolutely pumped to hear his friends berate him for being stupid enough to enjoy the bare minimum from a woman. 

an email notification interrupts his intense cramming session with his ipad and his illegally downloaded ebooks.

No Name

Subject: IMPORTANT! READ ME! 

snack break at the aquarium? 

he already has a strong inkling on who the sender could be; he clicks the email address and unsurprisingly, it says that it’s you. 

did you seriously go out of your way to email him because he told you that he was going to keep his phone turned off while studying? 

ridiculous. 

so cute and ridiculous. 

—

“i brought your favorite.” you meekly present your gift to jungkook. “uh, actually i’m not sure if it’s your favorite. but it’s become mine since you gave it to me.”

jungkook gapes at the bag of his favorite gummies sitting on his lap. just for comparison, the packet he gave you that day you first met came from his pocket. this one is almost as wide as his thighs slightly spread apart. 

but most importantly, what did you just say?

“y-you didn’t throw it away?”

“what are you saying?” you pout, a little hurt by the question. “why would i throw it away?”

“you should’ve. you can’t just accept food from strangers!” 

he was being pretty before. he humbly admits that. he just wanted an excuse to bring you up so he whined about it for weeks, but he was never genuinely upset. not specifically about that, anyway.

“why are you so upset?” you match the rise of his voice. “i’m fine and we ended up being friends. now say ‘thank you’ and open it!”

“ah, sure-” he panics, fumbling with the zigzag edges of the packaging. you were kind of hot for that. “thank you! this was seriously so thoughtful of you.” 

you nod in satisfaction, stealing a gummy worm the second that the plastic is torn open. “you’re welcome!”

—

  “i should stop eating.” jungkook mumbles to himself, chewing the other half of his nth gummy worm of the night. 

“yeah,” you agree, pulling your hand away from the bag with an impressive show of restraint. “we should.”

the two of you probably look bizarre in the eyes of strangers, particularly those who have seen you one too many nights admire the golden creatures like you’re being hypnotized and nothing else in the world matters. jungkook never knows what’s running in your head, but to him, these moments are all about being beside you. the loud beating of his heart could be attributed to the caffeine, or the bare skin of your knees touching and no one daring to move. 

“the tank feels…” there is a delay as you search for the appropriate word. “dull. can’t there be more variety of plants?” 

“i tried,” he laughs at the funny memory you evoked. “when i came back the next day, two of them already ate everything.”  

you gasp. “everything? is that normal?” 

he opens his mouth to speak, but you unknowingly interrupt him with a raise of your hand.

“okay, i’m searching on naver.” 

jungkook behaves for the fifteen minutes that follow, sneaking a peek at your phone screen every now and then with squinted eyes. you read fast, and your knees shake when you have to think hard. they’re small things. they don’t matter that much. but they’re still parts of your entirety which he is to be well-aquainted with. 

“according to this person, we can try giving them marimo moss balls to play with… and hmmm-” you hum, lips puckering into a pout. “then for plants, anubias and java ferns?” 

“i still know the address of the place i bought the plants from before. we can go when you’re free.” he offers, jumping on the opportunity to spend time with you outside of this building. 

“you free sunday?” 

“is the afternoon alright? i have to go to uni in the morning.” 

please say yes.

“sure, that works.”

he breaks into a triumphant smile. 

yes! 

—

jungkook has been looking forward to this day all week. he breezed through work and college, motivated to finish all his tasks so he could enjoy his time with you without any worries. he knows it’s not a date, but anyone can be excited to meet up with a friend.

“you look pretty.” he smiles, breaking the silence in the elevator. 

“you can barely see my face.” 

“i see it!”

your nonchalance slowly fades, seemingly replaced by unease, which confuses jungkook. you put on a white face mask from the pocket of your hoodie before facing him. 

“now you don’t!” you banter with him playfully. 

“too late,” he sticks his tongue out. “i can draw it from memory.” 

this is your usual day outfit, a basic classic. a hoodie paired with shorts and sneakers. the face mask is part of it too. in a crowd, you could be anyone, even him, if only your hair doesn’t stand out among the neutrals. he likes it. he likes how you match outfits without trying to. you get more dressed up at night, which makes sense since you go to work. 

“so you can draw me even if i flash you just once?” 

scandalized, he almost chokes on his own spit. “____!”

“i’m joking!” you giggle.

“no, please do it.” he encourages you in jest.

that earns him a slap on the face. he touches the affected area. it didn’t hurt at all, you did it with a light hand, but he gapes at you dumbstruck. 

“you can joke about it but i can’t?!” 

you only laugh at his reaction. he also imagines that he looks funny. not long after, the elevator opens and you drag him out by his hand.

—

the cashier pushes back your extended hand. “sorry, we don’t accept card payments.” 

while you pout sadly at the rejection, jungkook rushes to grab the wallet that you made him hide because this was your ‘idea.’ 

“here,” he puts down the paper bills on the counter.

“i’ll pay you back.” 

“no, it’s fine. my treat for the fishes since they’d probably eat them anyway.” he jokes to comfort you.

“yeah, okay,” you respond listlessly. “then i’ll buy our dinner. samgyupsal?”

“call!” 

jungkook guesses you have come to know him well too. 

“okay, let’s go.”

he invites you to leave after the cashier gives him the paper bag. as you walk out together, your shoulders brush, and for a brief moment, he assumes that you would cling to him. he doesn’t know why he keeps doing that. you never do. he continues walking and he doesn’t even notice that he has left you behind.

the door is half-open and he’s stood in place, eyes scanning the store like he just lost a child at the mall. 

of course, he finds you hunched over infront of an aquarium inhabited by a betta fish. 

“do you want to get it?” he whispers, mindful of scaring away the little creature. “i don’t think i’ve seen a purple fish before.”

not even in art or television. it’s strange. 

he feels your eyes glued to him. persuaded by curiosity, he turns his cheek. 

his breathing stops when he sees your face so close. 

he doesn’t know you removed your mask. you’re staring at him so intensely with those beautiful  eyes, sparkling with the reflections of light. you’re dazzling, and intimidating, and it’s doing dangerous things to his heart.

a little nudge and he’d give you an eskimo kiss. 

if there’s a perfect romantic moment to kiss your lips, he’d say it’s right now. 

“it’s not the fish i want.” 

he doesn’t hear you. 

do you see how entranced he is by your lips? 

“the shipwreck, it’s beautiful.”

his eyes chase the sight of them when you return your gaze to the aquarium. 

“like you,” the words slip out without thought.

—

a soft smile tugs at the corner of your lips. you blink away the tears and you stomach the heavy in your chest. you know jungkook is still staring at you with those bedroom eyes and there was no deep thought behind his compliment. will he still find you beautiful when he sees who you are beyond the surface? 

“like me…”

— 

after dinner, you and jungkook planted the plants and installed the shipwreck you wanted. it was not cheap, but it was worth it, if it meant seeing your priceless joy. he carries around more cash than necessary when he goes out with you. he’s praying that you didn’t see his sigh of relief when the waiter said the restaurant accepts card. he doesn’t know much about your circumstances, why you stopped going to school and why you opted to work instead, but he knows you lead a lifestyle different from his. he’s not ignorant. he estimates your bag is five times more expensive than his ipad. but with how you’re soundly sleeping on his shoulder, he can say that it’s justified. 

he learns that you’ve been working straight for fifteen days, with 10-20 hours of overtime per week. you practically live there. he can feel the weight of your shoulders on him, which is why he doesn’t have the heart to wake you up despite his bladder’s need of the bathroom. this is probably the closest he will ever be to you. he can’t be the one to walk away in this memory. 

the humming noise of the aquarium’s filter fills the silence.

it always feels like he’s dreaming when he’s with you.

“after all that money we spent, we should really name them now.” 

you release the yawn you were holding back while speaking, head dropping on his shoulder. jungkook stiffens at the suddenness of the physical contact, but then relaxes thanks to the tranquilizing scent of your shampoo— it has to be coconut, with some sort of flowers that perfectly compliment it.  

“have any ideas?”

“yes,” he hears the smile in your voice. “you know those two who have similar hues?”

he hums, body vibrating underneath your soft cheek.

“tangerine, and then clementine for the smaller one.” 

“those are cute names.”

“you like them?”

“yes, they really sound like siblings!”

“okay, i won.” you shrug your shoulders as far as they can go, as if you’re so pleased you could burst. “that’s settled. your turn!”

“hmmm…” 

he unconsciously bounces his knee as he racks his brain, which you swat with a disapproving noise, mumbling “making me dizzy!”

“sorry,” he winces.

your giggles are infectious, bringing tickles somewhere deep inside of him, butterflies in his stomach coming alive like spring only arrived. 

“shouldn’t we at least have one named after a flower?” he suggests. “hold on, i’ll search for good ones.”

“let’s give the flower name to the yellow one. she stands out, like a flower.”

you blink wearily, a soft smile amidst the haze, sent to the yellow fish who swam closer as if it heard itself being called. 

he reads the list of yellow flower names out loud.  

“sunflower, daisy, azalea… for-forthysia? lily, cosmos, dahlia-”

“dahlia-” you quietly repeat the name in awe, clinging to his arm to steal his attention.

“dahlia it is!” 

“i wish dahlia would live forever.” you sigh, haunted by the inevitable. 

“dahlia will outlive us.” he chuckles. 

“i’ll protect her from the afterlife.”

he squeezes your hand tenderly. “i’ll be right there with you.” 

and with unspoken mutual understanding, your fingers intertwine. neither one of you wants to let go, he feels it strongly and he is sure of it. his cheeks may very well begin to ache with how elated he is. 

“that’s three… you know, i saw someone on youtube who named their fish coral. i thought it was a very pretty name. how about that?”

“i like it,” you chirp. “i kind of wish it was my name.” 

“should i just give it to you?”

you lift your head a little, sleepy eyes connecting with his. “do you know someone who has the same name as me?”

“no,” he slowly shakes his head. “you’re the only one.” 

“let’s give it to the one with the longest tail.” 

your head drops on his shoulder, as if it’s where it belongs. 

“i like being the only one.”

you fell asleep seconds after that.

he found entertainment in watching as much as the goldfishes playing around with the shipwreck. it’s a wooden ship split in two, with cracks and holes big enough for them to swim in and out of. even the sails have holes. the drawings on them are unrecognizable beyond his imagination. 

it’s quite charming, but he doesn’t understand what’s special about it the way you do. 

a teardrop drips from the tip of your nose and crashes on his arm, but he doesn’t feel it. 

eventually, it dries, and is erased from history. 

[faeriekit]

43rd Annual Gotham Academy Bake Sale

dp x dc | FosterDad!Frostbite

❄ Now available to own on video and ao3 ❄

I promised @tourettesdog a snippet of More Yetis™ ages ago and I finally finished lol

❄*❄*❄

Bruce looked up.

And up. 

...And up. 

The— parent?— glanced down at him with a fanged smile. Not— not meanly. Just fanged. As in, he had fangs. 

And thick, puffy fur. And glacial blue horns. And a soft, muzzle-esqe face, and an equally blue prosthetic arm, with what looked like his original bone structure underneath it. 

What a sight at the PTA bake sale. Bruce huffed lightly.

(Remarkably, the puff of air came out as cold steam. Huh.)

“Good afternoon,” the parent, presumably, greeted him, his voice a low rumble. “I’ve been told that the purpose of this event is to raise money for the school, so there are baked good available for purchase. Please tell me if you are interested in any of the selection.” 

Bruce watched the giant, furry parent carefully set out a crocheted blanket to serve as a tablecloth on the provided folding table, dotted the space with carefully organize tupperwares and displayed, and sanitized his— claws— before setting out little treats on round wooden trays. A stack of napkins completed the setup. 

It was a good first-time setup. Downright exotic, even, considering the setting of Gotham Academy. It had a homey, home-grown feeling that was entirely anathema to the cultivated air of the usual attending crowd. 

It was nice, though. Bruce took a picture of the table for his public instagram. 

Usually Bruce and Alfred would man a table for the younger kids, but Damian was still attending the lower school, and Duke had been opted out of participating due to…prior circumstances…which left Bruce to be an attendee rather than a fundraiser. It was kind of nice. He got to try new foods. Check things out. Meet a giant yeti. 

“They look good,” Bruce complimented, because they did. They didn’t exactly look vegan, so Damian couldn’t try one, but they did look good. “What’s this one? On the bun?” 

The giant…whatever he was daintily got himself into a folding chair. From his side-satchel came a paperback copy of Elin Hilderbrand’s Summer of ‘69. “Salmon patties on potato buns. My charge assures me that they’re perfectly edible, although we did have to shop around for a suitable vehicle with which they could be eaten.”

Alright, so the guardian had missed the boat on exactly what bake sales were supposed to consist of. So what? The food sounded good, smelled good— and for four dollars, that was a good deal. 

“Keep the change.”

They tasted good, too. “Hey," Bruce exclaimed, "This is pretty grand!”

The yeti’s eyes crinkled around the edges. The muzzle couldn’t exactly replicate a human smile, but Bruce had the distinct impression that this was the equivalent expression. “Thank you. Daniel told me that it was overkill to catch my own fish for the raising of funds, but I always prefer the taste of a fresh catch.” 

With those fangs, Bruce would believe it. He took another bite of what was probably a salmon burger. “Nothing beats fresh-from-the-sea. When I lived in London for a few months, I was very spoiled by the seafood selection.” 

The yeti’s ears swiveled upright in interest. “Oh? I will say, living in Gotham, there is a lack of interesting seafood. The shellfish grows to be as large as my arm in my home territory.” 

Well, that didn’t lower the location down to anywhere in particular. The arctic? The deep ocean? Some vast, unknown world? “Sure sounds more interesting, that’s for sure. Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you new to the school?” 

The being kindly answered his nosy-enough question. “I have taken temporary leave of my people to care for my charge. As he is mostly human, his elder sister and I came to the decision that the human plane was a better locale for him to grow up in. Gotham city simply has more volatile energy floating around.” 

Bruce’s eyebrows rose up over the rims of his sunglasses. Gotham was their first choice to raise a child in? A not-completely-human child to boot? “You sure about that?” he asked, just to be clear. “It’s not so safe here. We’ve got a guy who blows up buildings for fun. I think we’ve had the most toxic gas leaks…ever, really. I love the place, I grew up here, but man do we have problems!” 

“Hm,” the yeti hummed. “We were concerned about that. Daniel spent the first few nights beating up pickpockets, however, so I foresee that he will likely enjoy the challenge.”

As someone who beats up pickpockets, Bruce had no reliable say on the matter. He took another bite of his salmon patty. He made a note of the issue nevertheless. If there was going to be a new, half-human vigilante in his home territory, that ought to be something he stays abreast of.

“Hey! B! Over here!”

Bruce spotted Duke’s hand a head above the crowd. He waved back; his newest foster edged through the crowd of wealthy parents and their nepo-baby children to make his way over, a cupcake in his hand. “Duke! Find anything good?”

“Yeah!” Duke confirmed cheerfully, raising the cupcake in his hand. He continued his approach. “They had tamarind ones at the stand Mrs. Cheng is running! I got you one just in case you wanted to try it. They were almost out, and—“

Duke paused beside Bruce. And looked up.

And up.

...And up.

Bruce didn’t bother to hide his smile. “I’m getting to know some of the other parents here. Hey, what’re your thoughts on salmon?”

“It’s,” Duke started, thoroughly distracted by the parent’s height, “Good. Um. Hi?”

The gigantic being (he must be, what, nine feet? And balancing on that horrid folding chair the PTA shoves out every year?) roved a yellow eye down to his foster son.

“It’s very nice to meet you, young one,” the parent rumbled, cheery as anything. “My name is Frostbite. You may know my charge, Daniel. He is in his junior year.”

“Danny? Danny Fenton?”

Bruce finished off his burger with a bite. Well, there was curious tone. “Do you know him, Duke?” he asked. The tone wasn’t quite warning, but the edge was to be found in his phrasing.

Duke winced. “Yeah, we…uh. We might have gotten into a fight on his first day. And his second week. …And…last week.”

Bruce. Blinked.

“…And maybe a few hours ago. But to be fair, he has a really punchable face—“

This sounded more like Dick and Jason in their first weeks at Gotham Academy rather than Duke, who was generally better-mannered than most of his brood. (Bruce tended to chalk it up to the effect of being raised largely by loving, attentive parents.)

“But. Um.” Duke shuffled a little closer to Bruce, and a little farther away from the tallest parent to ever grace the pristine lawn of Gotham Academy. “He’s…you know. He’s fine. Usually.”

Thank goodness Alfred was across the way with Damian. He would have disapproved highly of the both of them for this slip.

Still, the gigantic creature only…huffed. Bruce would dare call it a chuckle, even. He popped a barely punctured bookmark into his novel, and gently set it to the side. “My apologies, young one; fighting is a favored form of socialization in our culture. His interest in you is likely genuinely meant, if…rough. Tell myself or his sibling if it becomes unbearable, and he’ll calm down.”

Duke’s lips twisted. “No, it’s not— It’s. Fine? I guess? We like blow off steam and stuff. When I sprained my wrist, he just punched my other arm and bought me ice cream.”

Bruce wanted to judge this kid and whatever parenting style this yeti was putting this kid through. He wanted to pass judgement so badly. But this also sounded exactly like something one of his own kids would do with someone they were friends with.

So.

So he bought a second salmon burger, took an offered bite of Duke’s tamarind cupcake (very generous), and tried to remember everything he could about his brief foray into romance novels. “Say, have you ever read any John Grisham? It’s not quite the same genre, but I’m more of a fan of thrillers myself…”

Honestly, the surreal part was that nothing untoward happened for the entire bake sale. Bruce would happily do this again next year.

[raekensluver]

a guarded romance (1)

part two

description: you are a famous billionaire's daughter and your father has hired you a new bodyguard. his name is spencer reid and he used to be a part of the fbi's behavior analysis unit.

pairing: bodyguard!spencer reid x famous!reader

contains: age gap (everyone is 18+), fake relationship, mentions of a stalker, talk of parental death, overprotective father, lmk if i missed anything!

song rec: you don't own me by SAYGRACE ft. g-eazy- "don't tell me what to do, and don't tell me what to say."

w.c: 2.4k

an: i hope you all enjoy!! i feel like there aren't many bodyguard!spencer fics on tumblr. please give me feedback! good or bad, i appreciate it!

in the grandiose study, the scent of aged leather and mahogany filled the air, a silent testament to the wealth and power that had been cultivated within its walls. the room was dimly lit, the setting sun casting a warm glow through the stained glass windows, creating a mosaic of colors on the polished floor. your father's office was a sanctuary, a place where he made decisions that shifted the course of empires, but today, it was where your world was about to be upended once again.

"honey," your father's firm voice called out as you stepped into the room, his eyes never leaving the paperwork scattered across his desk. he looked up, the stern lines on his face softening slightly as he took in your appearance. "this is spencer reid, your new bodyguard."

spencer stood by the door, his posture ramrod straight, and his eyes met yours. there was a flicker of something in them, an intensity that made you pause. he was tall, with a lean build and a sharp jawline that spoke of discipline and experience. his suit was impeccable, but there was a hint of something else beneath the surface, a wildness that the tailored fabric couldn't quite conceal. he looked older than you, maybe thirty-five, if you had to guess.

"daddy, i don't need another babysitter," you protested, crossing your arms over your chest. "i'm twenty-five, not five. i can handle myself."

your father sighed heavily, setting down his pen and folding his hands together. "sweetheart, it's not about that. it's about keeping you safe. with everything that's been happening, i just want to make sure you're protected."

you rolled your eyes, feeling the familiar ache of frustration in your chest. "what's been happening? i've had one stalker in the last year, and that was just some lovesick fan. i can handle myself."

spencer cleared his throat, his gaze shifting between you and your father. "miss carter, if i may, i understand your concerns. i've studied the case files and the potential threats are minimal. but in the line of work i've been in, it's always better to be safe than sorry."

his words hung in the air, and you felt a spark of curiosity. there was something about the way he spoke, a calm confidence that was hard to ignore. maybe he wasn't just another incompetent bodyguard your father had hired.

"fine," you relented, unable to argue with his logic. "but i don't need you following me around like a shadow."

spencer nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "i understand, miss. i'll do my best to respect your privacy while ensuring your safety."

the week flew by in a whirlwind of meetings and social engagements, with spencer a constant presence at your side. your father had informed you of the annual gala in a week's time, a grand affair where the crème de la crème of society mingled and networked. "you need to make an appearance," he'd said, his tone brooking no argument. "and i expect you to look the part."

"spencer," your father announced, his voice carrying a hint of finality, "you will accompany my daughter to select a suitable gown for the gala. it's an important event, and i want her to be dressed to the nines."

you felt a pang of annoyance at the thought of being dragged around by a bodyguard to pick out a dress, but the idea of escaping your father's scrutiny was tempting. "fine," you said with a resigned sigh, "but i can't believe you're making me go to this thing."

spencer's eyes met yours for a brief moment before he nodded. "i'll be there to ensure nothing goes wrong, miss."

the shopping trip was a delicate dance of wills. you wove through the racks of haute couture, your mind racing with thoughts of the gala and the dreaded encounter with the man your father insisted on setting you up with. spencer remained a silent sentinel, his eyes scanning the room, his presence both comforting and stifling.

you slid a sleek, black dress from its hanger, the fabric whispering against the others as it glided through the air. it was perfect for the gala, elegant yet understated, a stark contrast to the flashy outfits you knew the other attendees would be wearing. you held it up to your body, the soft fabric brushing against your fingertips. "what do you think?" you asked, not bothering to hide the challenge in your voice.

spencer's gaze flicked over the dress and then back to your face, his expression unreadable. "it's… appropriate," he said, his voice measured. "but i suspect you're looking for something more than just appropriate."

you couldn't argue with that. you wanted to make a statement, to show the world that you weren't just a billionaire's daughter to be bartered off to the highest bidder. you wanted to be seen as a woman of substance, not just a pretty face in a sea of designer labels. "i need something that says 'hands off'," you murmured, your eyes searching the racks for the perfect dress.

spencer's gaze sharpened. "you worried about someone in particular?"

you nodded, your thoughts drifting to the smug grin of the man your father was so keen on setting you up with. "his name is alexander. he's… persistent."

spencer's eyebrows shot up, the first real sign of emotion you'd seen from him. "oh, i know the type," he said, his voice tight. "well, let's make sure you're dressed to make him understand that you're not interested."

you felt a strange thrill at his sudden protectiveness, and you found yourself smiling slightly. "okay, let's do this."

as the gala night approached, the tension in the air grew thick. your father had been dropping hints about alexander, reminding you of his wealth and status, and his potential as a suitable match. you, on the other hand, had been preparing your speech, rehearsing the perfect way to tell alexander that you had no interest in him without causing a scene.

the evening of the gala arrived, and you found yourself in a whirlwind of hair and makeup artists, turning you into the picture of sophistication. the dress spencer had helped you choose was a stunning blood red that made your eyes pop and your skin glow. it hugged your curves in all the right places and had just the right amount of flair to make you feel powerful.

as you descended the grand staircase, your father's eyes widened with approval. "you look… incredible," he said, his voice filled with pride. "exactly what a future lady of the house should look like."

you bit back a retort, choosing instead to smile sweetly. "thank you, daddy. i'm sure reid will make sure i'm well protected tonight."

your father nodded, his gaze flicking to your bodyguard, who was standing a respectful distance away, watching the exchange. "he better," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

the gala was a dizzying array of lights and sounds, the chatter of the elite echoing through the opulent ballroom. spencer was a silent shadow at your side, his eyes never still as they swept the room, looking for any sign of trouble. you felt a strange comfort in his vigilance, his presence a buffer between you and the world that so often felt suffocating.

as the evening progressed, you spotted alexander cutting through the crowd, his eyes locked on you like a hawk on its prey. your heart sank, but spencer was there, his hand lightly on your elbow, guiding you through the throng of people with an ease that belied his size. "just keep walking," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "ignore him."

but alexander was not so easily deterred. he reached you before you could escape, his smile as plastic as the flowers adorning the tables around you. "so, the elusive miss carter," he said, his voice oozing with false charm. "how are you enjoying the gala?"

you felt your heart race, his presence setting your nerves on edge. "i'm enjoying it," you replied, your voice cool and even. "thank you for asking."

alexander's gaze slid to spencer, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "and who is this charming man at your side?"

your heart pounded in your chest, your mind racing for a way to shake alexander off. without missing a beat, you reached for spencer's hand, squeezing it tightly. "this is my fiancé, spencer reid," you blurted out, the words surprising even you.

spencer's eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, his hand closing around yours. "hello, alexander," he said smoothly, a polite smile playing on his lips. "i've heard so much about you."

alexander's gaze darted between the two of you, his confusion clear. "fiancé?" he repeated, his voice skeptical. "i had no idea, your father said nothing about this."

you felt your cheeks heat up, but you held your ground, flashing spencer a desperate look. "it's a recent development," you said, your voice surprisingly steady. "we wanted to keep it private for a bit."

alexander's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing slightly. "recent?" he echoed, his grip on his champagne flute tightening. "how recent?"

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. "very recent," you said, the lie slipping off your tongue with surprising ease. "we just got engaged."

spencer squeezed your hand in reassurance, his eyes never leaving alexander's. "yes, it was quite a whirlwind," he said, playing along flawlessly. "we didn't want to make a big deal out of it."

alexander's expression shifted from skepticism to something darker, his grip on his drink tightening. "well, congratulations," he said, his voice tight. "i wish you both the best."

you felt a wave of relief wash over you as he turned and disappeared into the crowd. you looked up at spencer, your heart still racing. "thank you," you murmured, your voice shaky. "i can't believe that worked."

spencer's smile was tight, his eyes still scanning the room. "it's not over yet," he said, his grip on your hand still firm. "let's get you somewhere quieter, away from prying eyes."

you allowed him to lead you to a secluded corner of the mansion, the music and chatter of the gala fading into a distant buzz. the walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, the moon casting a soft silver light over the manicured gardens outside. it was a stark contrast to the bright, flashy lights of the ballroom, and the calmness of the night seeped into your bones.

spencer's hand was still wrapped around yours, his eyes never leaving the partygoers as he scanned for any sign of danger or unwanted attention. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice low and concerned.

you nodded, trying to compose yourself. "yeah, i just… i didn't expect to lie like that." the words felt heavy on your tongue, but the truth was, you had no intention of letting alexander near you again.

spencer's gaze softened, his grip on your hand loosening slightly. "it's alright," he said gently. "i've seen worse at these types of events."

you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for dragging him into your personal drama. "i'm sorry," you whispered. "i didn't mean to get you involved."

spencer's gaze finally left the crowd, his eyes meeting yours. "it's part of the job," he said, his voice gentle. "and i'd rather be involved than see you miserable."

you looked down at your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his skin. "thank you," you said again, the words feeling inadequate. "i just… i don't know why my father can't see that i'm not a little girl anymore."

spencer's eyes searched yours, filled with understanding. "he's just trying to protect you," he said. "it's hard for parents to let go, especially when they've lost someone as important as your mother."

his words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt the familiar ache in your chest. your mother's death had left a void in your life that no one had ever truly filled, not even your father's overbearing attention. "i know," you said softly, "but it's like he doesn't trust me to make my own decisions."

spencer's expression grew serious. "it's his way of dealing with his fear," he said. "but you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, and i'm here to support you in any way i can."

his words resonated with you, and for the first time in a long while, you felt seen. "really?" you asked, hope flickering in your eyes.

spencer nodded. "really," he said, his voice firm. "you're a strong, independent woman. and if your father won't give you the space you need, i'll do my best to make sure you have it."

his words echoed in the quiet corner of the mansion, and you felt a sudden urge to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of the gala. "can we leave?" you asked, your voice small. "i don't think i can handle much more of this."

spencer's eyes searched yours for a moment before he nodded. "of course," he said, his voice calm. "let's go."

you felt a wave of relief as he led you through the throng of people, his hand at the small of your back a reassuring presence. the cool night air hit you like a slap in the face after the stifling heat of the gala, sending a shiver down your spine. the stars twinkled overhead, a stark contrast to the artificial lights of the mansion.

spencer opened the door to the sleek black sedan waiting outside, his hand on the small of your back as you slid into the passenger seat. you felt his eyes on you as he took his place beside you, the leather seats sighing beneath your weight. "are you okay?" he asked again, his voice low and concerned.

you took a deep breath, the cool leather calming your frazzled nerves. "i'm fine," you said, your voice shaky. "i just… i hate those kinds of events."

spencer's eyes searched yours, and without a word, he reached over and gently took your hand that was resting on your lap. "i promise," he said, his voice filled with a quiet resolve, "i will talk to your father. you're an adult, and you deserve to make your own choices."

his hand was warm and comforting, and you felt a sudden surge of gratitude towards him. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. "i just want to live my life without feeling like i'm under a microscope."

spencer squeezed your hand gently before releasing it to start the car. the engine purred to life, the smooth vibrations of the vehicle a stark contrast to the chaos of the evening. as you pulled away from the mansion, the lights of the gala grew smaller in the rearview mirror, and you felt a weight lift from your shoulders.

edited 8.21.24

[sunflowersatori]

Pasodoble

Word Count: 2K+

Contents: Your boss, Sir Crocodile requests that you attend a gala as his plus one so he can look less suspicious while spying. Feelings bubble to the surface in a night filled with extravagance. (Sir Crocodile x reader, pining, confessions, possessive Crocodile)

Notes: I love this man I really do. I'd do anything he asked me to.

//

“You want me to what?”

Crocodile looked up from his papers, “I want you to accompany me to a gala so I can gather some intel.”

You paused for a moment and then pursed your lips.

“You want me to be your plus one to a party so you can spy on people.”

“Problem, darling?” Crocodile smirked.

“Not with the spying part,” you waved your hand. You’d been Crocodile’s personal assistant for several years now. You knew what to expect from your boss, and a completely honest man he was not. 

“Then what’s the issue?”

“It’s a party for people like you,” you gestured to him. “Extravagant rich people who live luxury lives with fine jewelry and fine clothing…Not a party for normal people like me.”

Crocodile raised an eyebrow, “Normal people hm? Well this isn’t a request. It’s an order.”

“Why can’t you go alone?”

“Too suspicious.”

“Well can’t you just hire someone?” You protested. “I’m sure there are loads of women who’d love to hang off your arm at a fancy party for a night.”

“I don’t trust some cheap escort. I trust you,” your boss levelled you with an even gaze as he lit up a cigar.

You sighed heavily.

“This is really non-negotiable, huh?”

“Afraid so, darling.”

“Fine,” you furrowed your brow, “but I’m taking the rest of the day off to go shop for something suitable to wear.”

Crocodile huffed, a cloud of smoke floating out from his mouth.

“There’s no need for that. I’ll have something sent to your apartment this afternoon, but if you want to take the rest of the day to work up the nerve to attend the party with me then go ahead.”

You rolled your eyes at the teasing tone of his voice and simply waved as you left his office.

//

You stood by the front door, anxiously fussing over your appearance in the mirror. 

Crocodile would be arriving soon to pick you up, and even if you’d spent a few hours getting ready, you still didn’t feel prepared.

You looked in the mirror, sliding your hands over non-existent wrinkles in your dress. Someone else from Crocodile’s office had dropped it off that afternoon, and you knew from the brand label on the garment bag that it was expensive. It was breathtaking. Soft, emerald coloured velvet reaching down to the floor, hugging your curves in all the right places. A long slit ran up the side, exposing your leg and the gold heels that had been delivered to you with the dress.

With your hair done up, and a bit of subtle work with your makeup, you’d never felt more extravagant. Or more unfamiliar from your own reflection.

The colour scheme of your outfit was also not lost on you, and you were certain that Crocodile had grinned smugly when picking it out.

You sighed as you examined your appearance again. Just as you were wondering if you could pretend to be ill, you heard a knock at the door.

After another deep breath, you opened it. Crocodile was standing on your doorstep, filling the entire space with his presence.

He didn’t comment on your appearance as you stepped out to meet him and closed the door, merely giving you a quick once-over and huffing his approval. He offered his arm to you, and no sooner had you taken it that you both dissolved into sand, scattering away and reforming on the grand steps of a large estate.

You brushed stray grains of sand off of you as Crocodile smirked slightly.

“I hate when you do that.”

He chuckled lowly and started walking up the stairs, “Come, we wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Sir-”

“Lose the sir.”

You looked up at your boss, who was paused on the steps ahead, looking over his shoulder at you with an expression you couldn’t place.

“You’re not my assistant tonight,” he said softly, before continuing toward the entrance. 

You stood frozen on the steps for a moment as your heart clenched before hurrying to catch up with him.

As you walked through the grand doors, Crocodile tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow. 

“Wouldn’t want you getting lost now would we?” He said lowly, guiding you through the main foyer.

“How in the world would I get…lost…” you trailed off as the two of you stepped into a magnificent ballroom filled with an extravagantly dressed crowd. 

Men in finely cut suits and women wearing exquisite gowns and covered in jewels mingled and laughed. Several waiters weaved through the party, handing out flutes of champagne and hor d'oeuvres. Large granite pillars lined the marble-floored ballroom, and works of art hung from the walls. Across the ceiling, masterfully painted frescoes were illuminated by large chandeliers dripping in crystals.

Crocodile gave you a pointed look and began to lead you through the crowd as you looked around in awe. Somewhere along the way he managed to snag some champagne for both of you, handing you a glass as he whisked you through the crowd.

“So, is this the kind of extravagant luxury you were expecting?” He asked, sipping his champagne.

“Not quite to this scale,” you said, still taking everything in. You took a sip of your drink. “It’s…a lot.”

Crocodile chuckled, “Don’t worry, darling. Just stick with me and everything will be alright.”

As he tucked you into his side and ushered you off into the crowd, you had the feeling things would be much less simple than that.

//

You were bored.

Even with all the sights and the glamour around you, you’d lost interest in the party after the third conversation that Crocodile had toted you along for, and that was an hour ago. Needless to say, you were done mingling for the moment.

You tapped Crocodile’s bicep as you left, and he nodded without breaking his conversation. Then you drifted over to a less crowded part of the room, grabbing another flute of champagne as you went. With your back pressed against the cool, smooth marble of one of the pillars, you let out a soft sigh of relief. 

Despite your outfit and date for the evening, as you gazed out at the crowd, you still felt like a stranger in a new world. A thought briefly ran through your head, of Crocodile with a date much more suited to this extravagance than you. The idea made your stomach churn. Your boss was a busy man, often with little time left for the frivolities of finding a lover, but there had been a few times when he’d ushered some finely dressed woman away to private rooms at the casino. Each time it had not failed to make some twisted jealousy curl through you, immediately followed by guilt for wanting possession over a man you had no romantic claim on.

As you sat there stewing, a space was cleared in the centre of the ballroom and a band settled on a balcony overlooking the floor. Soon after, a dark waltz was floating through the air.

You sipped your drink as you watched couples take to the floor, a presence coming up behind you your only indication that your boss had left his conversation to join you. Crocodile’s hand settled on your back as he took your empty glass, passing it off to a waiter.

“Your mother used to dance, didn't she?” his voice rumbled.

You nodded, your eyes still on the dancers spinning around the floor, “She did.”

“Did she teach you?” Crocodile asked.

“Yes, but that was a long time ago…” 

Crocodile leaned in closer, his voice dropping to near a whisper. “Try to remember…for me.”

A strange feeling came over you. Perhaps it was a combination of the sultry music and the low pitch of his voice as he loomed behind you like a cloak of darkness. All you could do was nod, and let him take your hand as he pulled you out of the crowd.

The feeling of his hook settling around your waist made you look down, and you realized that it wasn’t the one he usually wore. This hook pointed outward slightly at the end, as opposed to his normal hook which followed one continuous curve.

“See something interesting?”

You glanced up, and the neutral expression on his face almost fooled you into thinking the switch was a coincidence. But Crocodile was far too cunning to not have everything worked out beforehand if he could help it, and the calculating look in his eyes told you this was no accident. 

He had planned on dancing with you, so he’d chosen a different hook to ensure he wouldn’t hurt you with the sharp curved tip.

And he knew that you’d figured it out.

Not for the first time that night, words eluded you. You shook your head, and Crocodile merely hummed in response, pulling you a bit closer as he began to lead the two of you around the room.

“Are you enjoying your evening, darling?”

“I am.”

“Good. I know you were concerned about fitting in, but I knew you’d do just fine. You’re with me after all.” 

You could hear the sly smile in his voice, but it didn’t stop you from briefly imagining what it would be like to be Crocodile’s lover. 

It wasn’t the first time that such a thought had crossed your mind. There had been moments in the past when a brush of hands exchanging papers lasted a bit too long, or a shared look had felt a bit too intimate. Crocodile often doted on you, citing your hard work and loyalty as his reasons to send you gifts. 

You’d be lying if you said you harboured no feelings for him. You kept all that tucked carefully away, though, knowing you’d surely be cast off from his side if he ever found out. And yet, in private moments, when you knew you were able to safely think about your desires, his face would cross your mind.

You could feel your cheeks burning a bit, so you focused your gaze on Crocodile’s chest, trying to keep your face from heating under his gaze.

“Mm, took you long enough to reveal yourself.”

Your head shot up, thinking you’d been found out, only to find Crocodile staring out at the crowd. You followed his gaze, seeing two men in sharp suits exchange whispers and begin to head away from the group and down a hallway.

You sighed and shook your head, your boss’ shifted attention allowing you to refocus on what your role was in his life. The song ended, and Crocodile pulled away, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a light kiss to your knuckles.

“I’ll find you when I’ve gotten what I needed, darling.”

“Yes, yes, go do something illicit,” you waved him off, deciding to go get another drink. Whether to clear your head or distract yourself, you weren’t sure.

You slid onto a stool at the bar counter, ordering a drink and taking a long sip once it was served to you.

“Get a hold of yourself,” you muttered quietly, rubbing your temple and squeezing your eyes shut. Regardless of who you were posing as tonight, you were Crocodile’s assistant, not his partner. 

With a heavy sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and ordered another.

//

It had been a decent amount of time since Crocodile had gone off. 

You’d remained at the bar, observing the crowd and watching for the return of your boss, but had yet to see him. You were beginning to wonder if you should go look for him when a man slid up next to you, far too close for comfort.

“Now what’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone at the bar,” the man cooed, and you cringed.

“Just having a drink and waiting for my date.” You turned away, hoping it would dissuade the stranger.

“Your date left you alone? Damn he must be stupid. I’d never leave such a beautiful woman to sit by herself. You never know who could come along and steal her away,” the man said, leaning in closer.

You leaned away, calling over the bartender to settle your tab before you were pursued further.

“Bet I could treat you better than your date.”

“Sorry, I’m not interested,” you said, trying to be polite in the face of the stranger’s inability to read your cues.

You slid off your stool, making to walk away when a hand grabbed your wrist, tugging you back toward the bar.

“C’mon, doll. Give a guy a chance won’t you?” He whispered into your ear.

His hand grazed up your arm, stopping cold when a gold hook yanked him by his tie away from you and toward the snarling expression of Sir Crocodile.

“That’s not yours,” he growled, the stranger’s eyes widening in fear and recognition.

The man struggled as he was held aloft, your boss being a good two and a half feet taller. “I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know she was yours! I’ll leave her alone I promise! Let me go, please!”

Crocodile merely sneered, “You think begging will save you?”

You could only stand there frozen and watch. The wrath on Crocodile’s face was something you usually only saw directed at his enemies, but now it was being used in your defence.

No, not just in your defence, out of possessiveness. 

The sound of the stranger continuing to plead for his life took you out of your stupor.

“Crocodile,” you hissed at your boss, watching your surroundings as people started to notice the commotion. “You’re making a scene.”

Your boss finally tore his eyes away from the vicious glare he had been sending the other man and looked down at you. He held your gaze for a few moments before exhaling and dropping the man unceremoniously. Then he stalked over to the balcony off to the side of the ballroom.

You followed hurriedly, nearly jogging to catch up to Crocodile’s long strides. When you emerged, he had already shoved a cigar between his teeth, though he was still frowning as you set your hands on the railing next to him.

The night air was cool, and you tried to take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart, but all you could focus on was your boss fumbling with his lighter next to you and mumbling curses under his breath. He was angry, and anger made him unfocused. 

You sighed and turned to him, grabbing a hold of his collar and yanking him down a bit so you could reach his face. You took the lighter from his hand, feeling him watch your every move as you easily struck it up and held it to his cigar.

Crocodile’s eyes met yours as the cigar lit, and he held your gaze as he took the first long inhale before straightening up and tilting his head slightly to exhale a cloud of smoke.

He grunted out a thank you, and you nodded. You let him smoke in silence for a while, allowing the nicotine to settle into his lungs and ease his tension. Once you’d decided he’d calmed down enough, you looked up at him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” 

“Well too bad,” You said, frowning at him a bit. “What was that back there?”

“He had no right touching you,” Crocodile muttered around his cigar.

“And that gives you warrant to end his life?” You asked, frustration and confusion tinting your voice.

“It does because you’re mine, and nobody touches my things,” he growled, turning his gaze to you.

The fire in his eyes should have been frightening, instead it only made a flicker of heat go through you. 

Crocodile reached out, grabbing your cheeks with his hand. “Sometimes I wonder whether you are truly human, or whether the gods sent you to me as punishment for the deeds I’ve done.” He tilted your face back and forth, examining you. “You bring out a weakness in me I am unable to control. A primal desire to claim you and let no one else have you.”

At this point, you were sure your cheeks were red, and eyes wide from the confession.

“Such a pretty thing, so loyal,” Crocodile murmured, “Forgive me for wanting to keep you all to myself, darling…I’m only a man, and a selfish one at that.”

“Sir,” you whimpered softly, “What does all this mean?”

Crocodile released your face with a sigh and took another puff from his cigar. “It means that I need to face the feelings I’ve been so desperate to quell and ask politely if you’d allow me to court you.”

You stood there in shock, your mind unable to comprehend that your deepest desires were being offered to you freely.

“You…you want to court me?”

“Yes. I want to spoil you in any way that I can and give you everything you want,” Crocodile said earnestly. “I understand this is out of the blue, you can have some time to consider my offer if-”

“Yes.”

Crocodile’s hand paused midway to his mouth, the cigar nearly slipping from his fingers.

“Yes. I want that…I want you,” you said softly, reaching out and gently tracing your fingers across his jaw.

The man let out a pleased hum, stubbing his cigar out and tucking you into his side. “Good. Then let’s leave this stuffy party and go somewhere private. I need a drink, and to properly explain my intentions to you.”

As he whisked you through the ballroom and out of the building, you bit back a smile, content at how he held you closer than he had before, and excited for what was to come.

[auggieblogs]

nsfw | mdni | lando norris x fem! driver reader | smut with a bit of plot.

Author’s note: Hiiii, everyone!!! I hope you all are doing good. I am sorry for being mia, I actually started university recently (it’s insane). Needless to say I have a lot on my plate right now, and writing isn’t the first thing on my agenda but I felt weirdly inspired yesterday (i am clearly ovulating). Anyways I hope you like it, happy reading<3

ALSO AGAIN, MDNI!!!! THIS CONTENT IS NOT SUITABLE FOR ALL AUDIENCES.

―୨୧⋆ ˚masterlist

You marched down the paddock, ignoring the piercing stares and whispers. Your heart was still racing, not just from the adrenaline of the crash but from the rage boiling inside you. The Baku Grand Prix had gone sideways fast, quite literally, and it was all Lando Norris's fault. Or, at least that's what you convinced yourself to believe.

Two laps in, you collided with him in one of the most reckless incidents of your career, sending both cars spinning out of the race. It wasn't just the crash that infuriated you-it was that smug, arrogant look you knew he'd wear afterward, refusing to accept his share of the blame.

As you stormed up to his driver’s room, you didn't even bother knocking, shoving the door open, fully prepared to let loose. But whatever words you had prepared immediately got stuck in your throat.

Lando was standing there, almost completely naked, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His chest glistened with sweat from the heat of the race, and his hair, a little longer now with a baby mullet sticking out, was damp and tousled. Your eyes raked over him, heart pounding. His body was lean, muscles tense and glistening under the fluorescent lights. His face was a mix of amusement and heat as he noticed your reaction.

Lando raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk forming on his lips as he noticed your staring. "Like what you see?" His voice was smug, teasing.

You blinked, quickly snapping yourself back to reality. No way you were letting him get to you like this, not when you were still so pissed.

"That was a shitty move, Norris," you spat, trying to focus on your anger instead of the fact that he was practically naked in front of you.

Lando's eyes flicked down your body, scanning you slowly, deliberately, making you feel hot under his gaze. He leaned back against the wall casually, arms crossed, his expression smug. "You rammed into me,” he said, not even trying to hide his amusement.

Your fists clenched, and you took a step closer, your rage bubbling over again. "That was you! You cut me off and ruined my race!" you nearly shouted, your voice rising with each word.

Lando shrugged, utterly nonchalant. "Or maybe you just couldn't handle the pressure." He sat down casually on the couch, his legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with that infuriatingly smug look on his face. "Maybe you just hate that you'll never beat me."

His words hit you like a slap to the face, but you didn't back down. You stepped closer, fists clenched at your sides.

"You're a prick, Norris. You think you're better than everyone else—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Lando grabbed your wrist and yanked you down, pulling you onto his lap so you were straddling him. The sudden movement made your breath hitch, your hands instinctively going to his shoulders for balance as you sat on top of him, your faces now inches apart.

"You keep running your mouth,” he murmured, his voice a low, “and I swear to God, I'll fuck you so hard you'll forget how to speak."

Your pulse spiked, your entire body buzzing with a mix of shock and arousal. The heat of him against you, the feel of his hands on your hips, sent a thrill through you that had you struggling to catch your breath. But you weren't backing down. Not with Lando. Never.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" you shot back, though your voice came out breathless, betraying how badly you wanted him.

Lando's eyes flashed with something dark and before you could react, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was rough, desperate, all teeth and tongue. His hands were everywhere- gripping your waist, sliding up your back, pulling at the zipper of your race suit until it fell away, exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the room.

He groaned as he peeled the suit off your shoulders, his eyes devouring the sight of your breasts as they spilled free. Without hesitation, his hands cupped them, squeezing roughly as his mouth moved down to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin.

"Fuck, you've got perfect tits," Lando muttered, his voice thick with lust. He leaned forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as his other hand kneaded the soft flesh of your other breast.

You gasped, your back arching as waves of pleasure shot through you. His tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it until it hardened in his mouth, sending shivers down your spine. His free hand pinched and rolled your other nipple between his fingers, drawing moans from your lips that you couldn't suppress.

"You always walk around in that tight suit,” he growled against your skin, his breath hot as he moved from one breast to the other, giving it the same attention. “Do you know how hard it is to focus when I know these are underneath?"

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moans threatening to escape as his hands and mouth drove you wild. But you couldn't resist anymore. The heat between your legs was unbearable, and you needed him-now.

"Lando, please,” you whimpered, grinding down against him, feeling his erection straining against his boxers. The friction sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn't enough. You needed more.

He smirked up at you, his hands sliding down to your hips, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles that made your breath hitch in your throat. You moaned, your head falling back against the couch as your body trembled under his touch.

"Fuck, you're soaked for me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Is this what you wanted? All that fighting, all that tension—was it just an excuse to get fucked?"

You didn't answer, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of his fingers moving inside you, curling just right, hitting all the spots that made you see stars.

"I asked you a question,” Lando growled, his other hand coming up to grip your throat lightly, forcing your eyes to meet his. “Is this what you wanted?"

You nodded, barely able to form words. "Yes," you breathed. “God, yes."

A smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and without a warning her tore your panties down. He plunged into you. Filling you completely.

You cried out, your hands gripping his back as he set a punishing pace, each thrust deeper than the last. The room filled with the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin as he fucked you relentlessly.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you over and over again. “You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, his voice rough as he leaned down, capturing your nipple in his mouth again, sucking and biting as he pounded into you.

The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure building inside you with every thrust, every touch. You were close-so close-and Lando could feel it. His hand slipped between your legs, his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he growled against your skin, his pace never faltering. "I want to feel you come all over my cock."

That was all it took. With a loud moan, your body tensed, and the orgasm crashed over you like a wave. Your walls clenched around him, and Lando groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he followed you over the edge, spilling inside you with one final, deep thrust.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath as you lay tangled together on the couch, bodies still trembling from the intensity of it all.

Lando shifted, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest heaving as he looked over at you with a satisfied smirk. “Still think it was my fault?" he asked, his voice teasing.

You gave him a tired smile, your body still buzzing with aftershocks of pleasure. "Maybe we both lost this one,” you muttered, your hand lazily tracing patterns on his chest.

He chuckled, pulling you close. "Guess we'll just have to settle it off the track more often."

[howcouldmuffin]

First Choice II

[ Chapter 2 : Duties and Needs ]

We can’t always get what we desire indefinitely. Every choice comes with its own set of responsibilities. It’s up to you to decide whether you’ll rise to the occasion or not.

PAIRING : Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen Incest, Non-canon

AN : I really like the current scene and am trying to write it as well as possible. I hope you enjoy it.

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

After the last conversation, there was no further dialogue. Viserys decided to take everyone hunting, it must have been something the adults discussed that day. You were quite excited because it was well known that your father was frequently ill, making outings difficult.

The king’s command caused a stir in the palace. The grand expedition of the Targaryens was attracting the attention of all Westeros. Sometimes, there was even a competition for hunting, who could catch the largest game, or who could hunt the rarest animal.

You knew that the groups would be divided for hunting, and you would learn which group had whom based on the king’s wishes. You thought your father might pair you with one of your brothers or perhaps a guard, but instead, he paired you with Jacaerys.

After learning the results, he looked at you and walked out of the gathering tent. He must have been disappointed with the pairing. Once everyone learned their partners, they dispersed to prepare. You went to choose the horse you would ride for the day.

In the stables, there were only a few stablehands and soldiers. You walked straight to the horse you usually rode, Elysian. You watched it for a moment, it was an intelligent and fast horse. You stroked its head and neck slowly. It recognized you.

“I’d like to ride this one.” you said to the stablehand.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Highness. Someone else has already chosen this horse.” the stablehand replied, surprising you. Normally, no one else chose Elysian except you.

“Who chose it?” you asked the stablehand. He hesitated for a moment, looking down and avoiding your gaze, which only made you more curious about who it was.

“It was me.” came the voice. It was Jacaerys, walking with Baela. “I selected it for Baela.”

“If the princess wishes to ride this horse, I can choose another for her.” Baela said quickly, her face flustered compared to Jacaerys, who remained indifferent. You looked at Elysian before making a decision.

“It’s alright. I must have arrived too late.” you replied, and began looking around. “I’ll find another horse.” You gave them a faint smile and did as you said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Baela said, and you nodded at her, searching for a suitable horse, which proved to be somewhat difficult.

“I’ve selected a horse for you, Princess.” Jacaerys said, leading you to a horse he had chosen. “This one.” he pointed to a beautiful white horse, not unlike Elysian but slightly larger and more fitting for you.

“What’s its name?” You stroked the horse that Jacaerys had chosen. It was very docile and seemed to suit you well.

“It doesn’t have a name yet. It’s a new horse. If the princess wishes, you may name it.” stablehand said.

“This horse looks like it could run fast. I’ll name it Breeze.” you decided.

“That’s a fitting name, Your Highness.”

“Well then, you should go prepare.” Jacaerys said, reminding you. You nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. It was always uncomfortable to be around him, and both of you knew that the awkwardness between you was considerable, hoping it would diminish over time.

Soon, the bell rang, signaling that everyone could enter the forest. You and the prince set off. At first, there were two soldiers following, but Jacaerys soon dismissed them, saying you could protect yourselves. You were confident in your ability to manage, though you wondered if he might see you as a burden.

“What do you think we’ll encounter first, Your Highness?” you asked.

“Probably a rabbit or a squirrel.” he replied. “And you? What do you think we’ll see first?”

“Maybe a snake.” you said. He chuckled slightly. “Or perhaps a bird.”

“Yes, it might be a bird.”

And then there was silence again. Both of you rode on aimlessly, meandering along the stream, hoping to spot an animal drinking water. You were about to ask something when a faint sound caught your attention—an animal, not small. You turned to Jacaerys, he nodded in acknowledgment and immediately sought the source of the sound.

It soon became clear that it was a large bear approaching. When it noticed you, it charged at you. Jacaerys, faster, drew his crossbow and shot at the bear, but it didn’t fall. You drew your bow from your back and fired additional arrows until the bear was subdued. Jacaerys dismounted and approached it slowly. You followed, still keeping your bow ready.

“You’re very skilled with a bow, Princess.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You returned his smile, pleased that he seemed more open and accepting of you.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” you said, putting your bow away. “Should we tie it to the horse and let our horses drink at the stream for a while?”

“That’s a good idea. This bear is quite large, and we wouldn’t want to return with nothing.”

You rested on a log by the stream, watching both horses drink. Jacaerys sat down next to you slowly. He was charming and easily captivated those around him. He turned to you.

“What else have you learned besides archery?”

“Fencing, horse riding, and other things boys like you do.” you replied.

“But do you also learn the things girls learn?”

You nodded. He looked surprised and somewhat skeptical. It’s unusual for a lady to wield a sword or a bow like a man. Ladies don’t typically know the names of weapons as men do. If it weren’t for your desire to earn favor from someone you loved, you might not have pursued such skills. As others say, a proper lady shouldn’t act like a man without shame.

“If you need advice on weapons, you may consult me, Your Highness. I’m not an expert but I know a bit.”

The sound of leaves crunching made you reach for the dagger at your waist and look around. Both of you saw a large deer approaching, much larger than usual. Something urged you to stand up and approach it as well. It showed no fear toward you or Jacaerys, walking directly toward you as if to communicate something. When you got close, it lay down. You stroked its head, and it submitted willingly.

“This kind of deer is rarely seen here.” Jacaerys said. “It’s magnificent.”

“But we can’t take it with us. It might suffer.” you observed. “It seems fine, not injured.”

“I think it really came to us.” he said. “Look, its herd has left.” You looked in the direction he pointed, and it was true. It had intentionally separated from its herd to come to you.

“This deer has such beautiful antlers.” you said. “What should we do?”

“Since it came to you, you decide” he said, giving you the opportunity to make the choice as he walked closer to the deer.

“If we think about keeping it, its chances of survival are less than letting it go. But since it came to us, I think we should make sure it doesn’t suffer and take it back as our prize.”

Jacaerys nodded in agreement with your decision and put the deer out of its misery with minimal suffering before tying it to the horse and heading back to the gathering point. Throughout the journey back, you and he exchanged conversations. His horse carried the large deer while yours carried the bear, according to the horse’s capacity.

When you returned, everyone was clearly surprised. You and Jacaerys talked and had managed to hunt two animals. The result was a unanimous victory for you and the prince. You both smiled at each other like never before. It was surprising that the two of you could truly become friends.

Weeks have passed since the hunt, and your relationship with Jacaerys has noticeably improved. Conversations while walking through the corridors at night, riding dragons together in the morning, and occasionally sharing meals have become routine. Yet, you still sense that the wall he has up against you hasn’t completely disappeared. Everything seems to require time.

“Do you want to go dragon riding with me today?” he asks as he walks in while you’re writing a letter to your brother, something you don’t do often but always keep up with.

“After I finish writing this” he comes and sits across from you. “You can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’d rather watch you write.” Jacaerys says as he continues to watch you, making you think you should hurry up and finish so you can do what he wants.

“You don’t have to rush. I enjoy watching you.” He reply.

“What’s so interesting about my face?”

“It’s because you’re beautiful and pleasant to look at.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You should trust me, I’m a witness.”

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll believe you.” you say. You look up and meet his gaze before looking down. “Are you going to practice sword fighting today?” you ask, trying to act normally to distract him, even though your face is flushed and your heart is beating faster.

“Will you come watch?”

“Does it matter?”

“It would… would be nice! to have someone to give me advice.”

“Today, I might not be able to. I have a cooking lesson with Oliver.”

“Oh, that sounds... well, interesting.” he replies, somewhat awkwardly. “Will you bring me some pastries again?”

“I’m not sure. I might not make pastries, but if you want, I can bake something for you.” you offer. He falls silent, making you look up at him. He stares at you with a slightly disappointed expression. When you catch him looking, he turns away, almost as if avoiding blame.

“Or you can come to the kitchen and have lunch with me.” you suggest with a smile, wondering if he might be very particular about food.

“Alright, let’s have lunch together.”

“I’m done writing now. Let’s go.” you say as you get up and gather your things. He stands up as well, his face showing the excitement of a child who’s happy to have someone to play with. You secretly hope that perhaps this could be more than just a good friendship. But for now, quietly falling in love with him might be enough.

“What do you think about joining me to visit the orphans?” you ask, as you both head out of the room towards the Dragonpit.

He turns to you with a warm smile, one he’s been giving you more often lately. “I’d love to go with you.”

“That’s wonderful.” you reply with a smile of your own. “I’ll need to prepare some toys for the children, then. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled!”

“Do you think the children will like the toys we've brought for them?” you ask Vidah while she is doing your hair.

“They’ll definitely love them.” she replies. “You’ve also prepared some small treats for them, haven’t you? Who wouldn’t be happy about that? And with a prince coming to see them too.”

“I’ve also prepared to tell them a few stories and brought something for the prince.” you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you think he’ll be willing to narrate?”

“If the princess asks, he surely will.” Vidah says confidently.

You frequently visit the orphanage, helping the children as much as you can because they are the future of the city. Some are sent to school, the strong ones are trained, and the girls are placed to serve noble families, as much help as you can provide.

“It’s finished.” Vidah announces. “You look beautiful as always.”

Today, you chose to wear a blue dress with a low neckline and sleeveless design. You wore minimal jewelry and avoided anything that might make the children uncomfortable. You opted for a shorter dress for ease of movement. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment before heading out.

“I’ll wait at the carriage.” you tell your maid. She nods and leaves to prepare additional items for you. You notice a bit more hustle and bustle than usual but don’t think much of it, assuming it’s just a prince or princess being demanding.

You walk to the castle exit but see no sign of the prince. You assume he might be coming soon. You climb into the carriage and try not to think too negatively. However, after waiting for nearly half an hour, you begin to understand that he might not come.

A knock on the carriage door makes you hopeful, but when Vidah opens it, it’s another maid. Vidah speaks with her, and both their faces show concern. After their conversation ends, the maid turns to you with bad news.

“What happened?” you ask her.

“The prince is unable to join us.” she replies.

“Why?” you ask. “Does he have an urgent command?”

“No, Your Highness.” she replies hesitantly. “Lady Baela was injured. She fell off her horse while checking its condition, so the prince had to rush to her.”

“And… is she seriously hurt?” you ask, feeling a mix of disappointment, sympathy, and confusion.

“No, Your Highness. Just a few bruises and minor scratches.”

You are at a loss for words. You don’t want to believe that you aren’t important enough to keep the appointment. You feel deeply disappointed. Baela did nothing wrong, but the fault seems to lie with you for being insignificant to him.

“If you wish, you may cancel the visit.” Vidah offers. You consider it for a moment before responding.

“No, I will not cancel. Let’s go. The children have been waiting long enough.” you decide. Vidah goes to inform the soldiers outside, and a maid comes to comfort you. She hugs you in silence. You must not be sad and need to adjust your mood because the children are probably feeling worse than you. You want to be a positive presence for them.

When you arrive, as expected, the children’s faces light up upon seeing you. They smile with innocent joy and no pretense. You smile back at them. Some children peek around, probably looking for their prince.

“I must apologize for being late today.” you tell the children.

“What about the prince?” one little girl asks. You smile at her.

“Our prince has many duties and received an urgent command today, which prevented him from joining us. But he kindly sent delicious treats instead. Do you understand?”

The children look at each other, puzzled. Whispers start among them. Some look disappointed while others talk to their friends.

“The prince said he would definitely visit next time.” you reassure them. “Now, who would like to have some treats from the prince? Raise your hands!” You nod to the maid to start distributing the treats. They seem very happy when each child receives their share. The room quiets down once the treats are distributed, and you sit in the middle to continue with the next activity.

“Next, I will tell you some stories. If you want me to tell all of them, you need to be good listeners. Do you understand?” The children nod. “Once upon a time…”

“Are you going to the orphanage again, little sister?” Aegon asked at the dinner table.

“Yes.” you responded, not looking up and continuing to eat. You could feel Jacaerys’s gaze on you, but you ignored it, not wanting to see his face because it made you feel worse.

“Does your sister go there often?” This time, it was the eldest sister asking Rhaenyra. You didn’t talk to her much, but she was always kind to you.

“Often, yes.”

“That’s quite an interesting hobby. If you ever want to go again, let me know, and I’ll help with the children’s supplies.”

“How will those children grow up without parents?” Aegon spoke up.

“That’s why we must provide them with love and warmth instead.”

“A noble duty.” your brother said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

“Most of their parents are soldiers, and if they aren’t, they died from illness. Their mothers are the same. And they are our people, Aegon.”

“Your sister is right. You should learn to care about something more useful, Aegon.” your grandfather said. You were surprised because it was he who said this. Your brother fell silent immediately and regretted his words.

“Never mind. It’s good that you care for the people as a princess.” Viserys said to you, “and I hope you’ll come to understand soon.” He then addressed Aegon. “Have you both decided what you want as a prize for winning the hunting competition?”

“Not yet, Your Grace.” Jacaerys replied.

“That’s fine. No need to rush.”

“Lady Baela, I heard you fell from your horse. May the gods bless you.” your mother said to her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Baela replied. You noticed Jacaerys staring at you again, and it started to annoy you. You couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I’m very tired today and need to retire.” you said.

“Go rest then.” Viserys said.

“I think it’s a good idea for me to escort the princess to her chambers.” Jacaerys said. You looked at the king, who nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t dare refuse his beloved nephew. You left the dining room without waiting for the prince.

Walking through the quiet corridors, he followed closely behind. You quickened your pace as much as possible, only now realizing how far your room was. You were angry, but it was not unusual to rush to someone you cared about when they were hurt. You might do the same.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I know I didn’t make it to our appointment because—”

“I know why you couldn’t come.” you said, turning to him. “I understand, Your Highness. I have no right to be angry with you.”

“Next time, I’ll go with you.” he said, taking your hand and looking into your eyes. If it had been you a few days ago, you might have easily fallen for this trap.

“Let’s talk about this another day. I’m very tired and need to go now.” you said, pulling your hand away and walking into your room without looking back at him. It was undeniable that you were hurt, but did you have the right to be? He was only fulfilling his duty as a good friend. You were only betrothed in name, not because you truly loved each other. It hurt to know he liked someone else, not you. It hurt deeply.

tag list : @r3va-dwme @ladyofvelaryon @mckennah123 @ericasabe @yohanseyebrowmole @mah1644

[ceruark]

ensnared. (yandere! prince! sunday x gn! royalty! reader)

synopsis: prince sunday invites you to dance the entwine with him. if you evade capture, he’ll finally leave you alone. but if you get caught, you’re his forever. cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, implied stalking words: 3,991 disclaimer/inspiration: the dance “The Entwine” is not my idea! it's from the novel Entwined by Heather Dixon, an all-time favorite of mine :)

“The Entwine, also known as the Gentleman’s Catch, is an amusing and challenging redowa suitable for accomplished partners. [...] Similar to a trois-temps waltz, it is danced in open position with a long sash. The lady and gentleman each take ends of the sash, which their hands must not leave. In a series of quick steps (see below) the gentleman either twists the sash around the lady’s wrists, pinning them (also known as the Catch), or the lady eludes capture within three minutes’ time. STEPS. Twist (35), Needle’s Eye (35), Dip and Turn (36), Lady’s Feint (36), Bridge Arc (36), Under-Arm Swoop (37), Thread (37), Beading the Sash (38), the Catch (38).”

Excerpt from Entwined by Heather Dixon

It has been a year since the queen died.

You stand in the grand ballroom of your palace for the first time since your mother's death. It seems dimmer without her, lacking the light her laughter brought to it. Every shift of skirts has you looking for her, only to be disappointed when you catch yourself seeking out a ghost.

She ruled alone for nearly fifteen years. After your father died in battle when you were young, many other kingdoms tried to swoop in after she became widowed. They vied for her hand in marriage so they could expand their territory and get their hands on the lucrative gemstones that are excavated from your land's caverns. But the queen was unshakable, and she refused to remarry, continuing to keep her kingdom safe and opulent all on her own.

And she died last winter, an incurable sickness settling in her lungs seemingly overnight and stealing her final breath within the week.

You hardly had time to mourn her. With no one sitting on the throne, your mother's advisory court scrambled to find you a suitor so that you could marry and be crowned as soon as possible. There hadn't been a rush to find you one, but with the queen's sudden death, they need to get you on the throne before someone else came along to seize it.

Tonight, Welt— formerly your mother's personal advisor— had declared while you prepared for the ball. Tonight, we will find you a suitor. You will be coronated by summer.

You sigh as your gaze sweeps over the ballroom. Truthfully, you have no interest in any of the attendants. Most of them don't have anything noteworthy about their personalities, and those that do are individuals you've mentally decided are best kept at arm's length. You’re certain that more than half your selection pool were invited out of courtesy; none of them possess enough influence or value for your mother's advisory court to approve of a marriage between the two of you.

Except for one.

Penacony's beloved prince has been pursuing you for as long as you could remember. It started off innocent, a mere childhood crush. Long before you were adolescents, he would pluck flowers from the centerpiece vases on ballroom tables and hand them to you, ever the gentleman. You can still remember the sound of whichever court member was assigned to look after you cooing at the sight, endeared as you accepted the flower from his hands and spent the rest of the night at his side, discussing all the important matters that plagued the minds of young royalty.

And then, things changed.

As you two grew older, something about him shifted— you couldn't quite explain it. It made your skin crawl, the way his gaze trailed you throughout the ballroom, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long when he kissed your hand in greeting, the way anyone you shared mutual romantic interest with started avoiding you like the plague the second he heard of your budding relationship. There was something off about him— about his infatuation with you— and you distanced yourself from him as much as possible over the years.

Your mother's advisory court had been furious; they believed your eventual marriage to Sunday was set in stone given how taken you were with each other as children, and they planned for a prosperous future backed by Penacony's enormous and infinite wealth. They took your refusal to interact with him as rebellion and scoffed at your explanations, but luckily, you weren't alone in your suspicions. Your mother and Welt were also unsettled by the way he looked at you at formal gatherings, and your mother swiftly shut down her court's insistences on you trying to make amends with Penacony's prince.

We have no need for marriages of convenience. My child's happiness and safety will be valued above all else, she told them, and it was the end of the discussion.

Welt has upheld her and your wishes following her death, but the rest of the court are more willing to challenge him than they'd been to challenge the queen. Multiple court members have pestered you about marrying Sunday, stating that he would readily agree; you would get on the throne quickly, and the kingdom would prosper with his empire’s assets. Though they drop the topic the second you snap at them, you can tell they're still scheming, pulling at whatever strings they can to bring the prince back into your favor and push you into his arms.

And the undeniable proof of that stands across the room, piercing you with his golden eyes. Of course he's among the guests the court selected for you to choose your partner from. What else could you expect from them?

You sigh and swipe a glass of wine off a nearby table. It's going to be an incredibly long night.

As you sip at the bitter liquid and eye the blonde prince from Belobog, a familiar voice sounds behind you. "Something troubles you, Your Highness."

You turn around, relaxing at the sight of your faithful personal advisor. Veritas gazes down at you, face as neutral as ever.

"Someone," you respond, a frown tugging at your lips. "It appears the court is still refusing to let go of their little delusion."

He glances over your shoulder and hums noncommittally. "It appears so."

You swirl the red wine around in your glass, continuing your sweep of the guests. Certainly, Belobog's prince seemed like your best option right now. Albeit easily flustered, he was sweet and courageous— you would be able to fall for him given the time.

"Gepard Landau?" Veritas asks, his gaze having followed yours to the man standing beside his sister and her wife.

You look up, meeting his doubtful gaze. "Do you see any better options?"

He takes another glance around the room, then grimaces. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden laugh.

"Though he may be the most respectable of your options, there is not much Belobog can offer you." He tilts his head, still staring out at the crowd. "I suggest you reconsider."

You flash him a tight, sarcastic smile. "If that is the standard you suggest I go by, then my options are narrowed down to Aventurine and Sunday."

You get along fine with the blonde lord hailing from IPC territory, and he possesses charm like no other. He's gotten you more flustered than any other suitor has, but you know it's all fake. Something lurks beneath his picture-perfect exterior, and he keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to guess what his true intentions are. Someone like that can't be good news for you.

Veritas sighs. "I suppose Landau will have to do, then."

A flurry of movement and fabric draws your gaze to the dance floor. You light up as you watch two figures dance in the center of the crowd, one ducking and dodging out of reach while the other tries with fervor to capture them in their arms.

They've finally brought out the silk sashes used to dance the Entwine.

Your Entwine record is exemplary. When dancing as the gentleman, there were only a handful of people you hadn't been able to catch— Aventurine being one of them. Though your record dancing as gentleman is flawed, your skill when dancing as lady is unmatched and known far and wide.

In all your years, you have never been caught during a dance.

"Wonderful," you say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You could already feel the exhilaration that came with successful capture and evasion. You turn to your advisor, eyes glistening beneath the lights. "Veritas, would you be so kind as to humor me with a dance?"

You think it's the light playing tricks on your eyes when he flushes red. Before he can respond, though, Welt strides up to the two of you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps you could get to know your potential suitors better through the Entwine, no?" The man you've come to think of as a father figure smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing as he does. "You enjoy it so much, hopefully it can be used to bring you closer to someone— both literally and figuratively speaking."

Your smile matches his. "I think that's a great idea."

"Perfect." Welt turns toward the dance floor. "Allow me to announce—"

He stops dead in his tracks, freezing just in time to prevent himself from walking into someone. He backs up, and your blood runs cold at the sight left behind.

Sunday stands before you, pristine as ever, with a silver sash draped over his arm.

Welt finds his voice before you do. "Prince Oak," he greets, dipping his head into a bow. "A pleasure to see you again. We are very grateful for your attendance."

Sunday looks at him. The fond expression he had fixed on you smooths out into his perfect half-smile. He nods at Welt in acknowledgement. "Imperial Advisor Yang." He turns to your left, appearing less enthused to greet Veritas. "Imperial Advisor Ratio."

His eyes land on you again, and a chill runs down your spine. You force a polite smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly. "Prince Oak. An honor to see you again."

He sounds breathless when he responds. "The honor is all mine."

When his gaze starts to grow heavy on your shoulders, Welt clears his throat. He eyes the fabric hanging off of Sunday's arm. "I suppose you are here with... intent, yes?"

"Correct," Sunday says. He glances down at the silk, reaching up to pinch a part of it between his fingers.

He meets your eyes again, his face imperceptible. It's more terrifying than his openly longing and lingering gaze.

"I wish to dance the Entwine with you," he says, voice diplomatic and devoid of emotion. "If you are willing."

You clench your hands behind your back. "Will you be dancing gentleman or lady?"

"Gentleman." He pauses, voice lowering a bit. "I wish to try and catch you."

You smother a scowl before it can crawl its way onto your face. Of course he would want to dance as gentleman. How typical.

But there's something to his demeanor that tells you there's more to it than he's letting on. It's sitting on the tip of his tongue: his real intent behind asking you to dance with him.

"For what reason do you wish to dance with me?" In a quieter, harsher tone, you add, "Be honest with me, or I will refuse outright."

His fingers run over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles that snag them. He tilts his head to the side, and the desire that swims in his eyes leaves you shaking.

"If I catch you," he says slowly, "you will give me your hand in marriage."

Bile burns at the back of your throat, your anxiety clawing its way up and trying to escape. It's a bold declaration, especially when directed at someone who has never been caught before. Your faith in your skill is resolute, but the sheer desperation on his face is enough to make you hesitate.

Your voice trembles slightly when you speak. "And if you fail?"

He hums, flicking his gaze off to the side. "If I fail, I will never ask for it again."

You latch onto the statement like a moth to a flame. All you have to do is avoid capture— something you've done time and again— to get him to leave you alone. You've never seen him dance the Entwine, or show any interest in it; undoubtedly, your skill will lead you to successful evasion.

This is your chance to get him off your back, for good.

Before you can respond, a firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you backward.

"Your Highness," Veritas whispers into your ear, barely contained urgency lacing his words. "Please consider this carefully. Is this a risk you are willing to take?"

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. "I have never been caught," you mutter back.

His brows pinch together. "There is a first time for everything, and you cannot afford to let this one be that time."

You clench your jaw and cast Sunday a sidelong glance. He stares back at you, his posture perfect and features serene despite the way his eyes drink you in, ravenous. There is, as always, truth to what Veritas is saying; you've never seen Sunday dance the Entwine, but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know how, or that he isn't good at it. There's still a high chance you'll be able to evade him given your record, but the chance of him being able to successfully pull off the Catch, though small, is still a potential outcome that shouldn’t be overlooked.

After all, he wouldn't be asking you if the possibility was as slim as you believe it to be.

You bite your lip, hesitating. You look to Welt, pleading for direction. He locks eyes with you briefly, looking just as concerned as Veritas, before he steps forward and partially shields you from Sunday's view.

"Perhaps another time," he says, a polite grin finding its way onto his face. "We are just coming out of mourning, and though it is nice to be part of festivities again, perhaps dancing is still a bit too much for Our Highness right now— the late queen was very fond of the Entwine. Please understand."

Sunday's mask wavers, irritation seeping through the cracks at Welt's excuse. His sharp gaze cuts back to you, but you let your eyes drift back to the dance floor, refusing to meet it.

The tension is broken by the sound of clapping. You turn your head, frowning at the sight of a member of the advisory court approaching.

"Oh, how lovely!" She swoons, pressing a hand to her chest. Her face is flushed from the wine and she speaks loudly, drawing the ballroom's attention to the cluster of people around you. "Our Highness is going to dance the Entwine with Prince Oak!"

All eyes are on you. Your guests whisper to each other, their excitement tangible and filling the air with charged energy. A long time coming, they think to themselves, oblivious to the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. Sunday's affinity for you isn't a secret, especially not to the royal families who watched you two grow up at each other's side. To them, this dance is simply an age-old rumor finally coming into fruition, the first step toward solidifying your relationship with Sunday. And to the advisors scattered around the ballroom, watching you like hawks, it is their efforts finally paying off— the final nail in your coffin that will secure the future they envision for your kingdom.

Refusing him now, under countless pairs of hopeful eyes, would undoubtedly leave an ugly smear on your reputation and the integrity of your kingdom.

Your tongue sits dry and heavy in your mouth. You almost choke on it when Sunday's hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you toward the dance floor. He practically preens under the attention and pressure. It makes you sick.

Another hand catches your elbow in a bruising grip, and you jolt back, only barely catching yourself to make it seem as though you tripped. You angle your body in a way that prevents the crowd from seeing Veritas's vice grip on your arm.

"My Highness has not agreed to anything yet," he bites out in a low whisper, venom dripping off his tongue.

Sunday's eyes snap to him. His scathing glare does nothing to deter your advisor, who glares back at him in response.

When he looks back to you, the deceptively serene look has returned. With the arm not holding the sash, he extends a hand out to you, tilting his head to the side in question. The guests closest to you all coo fondly.

There's a hint of a smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

You place a hand over Veritas's, gently prying his fingers from your arm. You can't bear to look at him right now. "It will be fine," you murmur. "I promise."

You run your hands along your sleeves, wiping off as much of the sweat as you can. You inhale shakily, trying to keep the ballroom tile beneath your feet from swimming.

You look up, a practiced, graceful smile tilting your lips upward. You delicately place your hand in his, suppressing a shudder when he brings it to his lips and presses it to them. The steadiness and strength in your voice surprises you when you say, "Of course, Prince Oak."

The ballroom erupts into a mixture of chatter and cheers. Court advisors pester the crowd surrounding the dance floor, ushering them back and trying to clear a pathway for the two of you. You swallow thickly as Sunday closes his hand around your trembling one.

You turn to Welt and gesture at his pocket with your free hand. "If you would be so kind, Advisor Welt."

He nods stiffly, reaching into his coat and producing a golden pocket watch. "Of course, Your Highness."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as Sunday guides you to the dance floor. A numbness settles over you, and you robotically nod and smile at the guests that you pass. Their eyes shine with an adoration that you could never possess for this supposed relationship— for him.

Sunday releases your hand when you two reach the center of the dance floor. His eyes are dark as he holds one end of the sash out to you. You take it into your hands and back away from him, toward the other end of the floor. Sunday does the same, and you both stop when the sash is pulled so taught that it tugs you a few steps forward.

The familiar fabric and set-up do little to comfort you.

The crowd shifts again, and Welt emerges from it, standing front and center before the dance floor. He holds the pocket watch up to his face, and your breath hitches with anticipation.

"Your three minutes begins..." His voice reverberates off the ballroom walls, resounding clearly over the jubilant tune the orchestra plays.

"Now."

Adrenaline shoots through you like lightning, and you fly into motion. Your vision sharpens, focused in on every movement Sunday makes as you analyze the arc of his arms and the force behind his tugs on the sash. With each under-arm swoop, you dip beneath his arms and twirl away from him with ease, the steps of the dance coming to you the way breathing does.

He's an adept dancer, you'll give him that. Perhaps if his partner was anyone else, he would have already caught them already, within the first minute of the dance. But you are untouchable on an average night, and on this one in particular, you push yourself past your limits, propelled forward by a fervor and desperation to evade his every attempt of entangling you in his arms.

Twist. Needle's Eye.

"Two minutes," Welt calls out.

Approaching another under-arm swoop, you glance at Sunday's face just in time to see displeasure flicker across it at Welt's announcement. As you glide away from him once more, unfurling the sash between you two, he gives it a sharp tug, causing you to stumble a bit and lose your footing. Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly recover, forcing your limbs to move faster and smoother and match the rapid tempo he has now set for the dance.

Sweat beads along your upper lip as you duck under Sunday's arms repeatedly. You're managing just fine, but you've never had to push yourself this hard before; keeping a close eye on his movements while making sure the sash doesn't get tangled around your wrists is a delicate balancing act, and you can feel yourself teetering back and forth, dangerously close to falling off.

He's a far more formidable partner than you could have ever imagined.

Dip and Turn. Lady's Feint.

"One minute."

Sunday furiously yanks on the sash mid-twirl, and you stagger forward. The sash wraps around your wrists once, twice— three times before you regain your footing and lean back, narrowly avoiding Sunday's sweeping arm that almost hooks around your own.

A chorus of gasps ripples through the crowd at your near capture. It worsens your fraying nerves.

You exhale with exertion, trembling on unsteady legs as Sunday raises the stakes yet again. The tempo he sets is merciless, and your body is jostled between the last of your will and the harsh tugs from the other end of the sash. You grit your teeth. The silk digs tighter into your flesh and sends pinpricks of pain up your arms with each snap of his wrists.

Bridge Arc. Under-Arm Swoop.

"Thirty seconds."

The speed at which you weave in and out of spins leaves you dizzy, nauseous. The ballroom melts into incomprehensible shapes and colors around you. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, a pitiful attempt to ground yourself so you won't trip up. 

You do anyway; Sunday's movements are too fluid and swift to keep up with.

The sash binds around your wrists five more times, bringing you even closer to him— too close. You're not sure if it's skill, luck, or sheer force of will that allows you to continue to dodge his attempts at ensnaring you, but you know that you shouldn't be able to do it at this distance.

Frustration peeks through his graceful disposition. His golden eyes trail you, chasing after you as you elude his grasp once more.

Thread. Beading the Sash.

"Fifteen seconds."

You throw yourself into another dip, eyes locked onto the floor just beyond the arm obscuring your line of vision.

If you dodge this one, you'll be free.

Sunday lifts his arms suddenly and pulls, bringing the sash as far back as he can without letting go. Your arms twist in the air behind your back. A strangled gasp leaves you as you lose your footing. In a whirl of fabric, you stagger backward, away from the other side of his outstretched arm.

The Catch.

Your back slams into something solid, and before you can process what has happened, a firm arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you flush against the body behind you. Your hands, still bound together, dig into your collarbone, suspended at an awkward angle from the sash held above you.

The crowd erupts into noise.

In front of you, a little girl pulls on her mother's sleeve and points in your direction. "Mommy, he caught Our Highness!"

Behind them, Veritas stares at you, petrified and speechless.

Snapping out of your stunned stupor feels like coming up for air after almost drowning. You suck in a shuddering breath and writhe, yanking your arms against the sash and leaning forward, futilely trying to escape. Sunday gathers the last of the fabric in his hands and gives it another sharp tug, keeping you in place against him.

He lowers his head, and his lips brush over your ear as he speaks. "Magnificent," he whispers. His voice rumbles with pleasure, almost to the point of purring. "You are truly a talented dancer."

"Let me go," you rasp out. You're physically exhausted, and your racing, panicked heart prevents you from catching your breath.

Sunday hums again, bringing the hand holding the sash to brush your cheek gently. "Why would I do that?" He chuckles softly, and it's so genuine— not the slightest bit mocking— that it leaves you all the more unsettled. "I caught you."

He brings his arm down, settling it around your waist. His fingers brush over your bound hands, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.

"You're finally mine."

[sv5hive]

womaniser | jb22

pairing: jenson button x fempopstar!reader, brief mark webber appearance

content warning(s): swearing, mentions of drinking, use of y/n, inaccurate information about the monaco paddock/circuit, suggestive champagne drinking(?)

word count: 1,771

note: first of all, thank you for all the notes on my lewis fic i'm absolutely blown away 😭🫶🏻 secondly, first fic featuring mr. playboy himself! i hope you enjoy this one bcos i had so much fun writing it 🩷

(masterlist!)

you gawked at the herds of people waiting for your arrival at the entrance of the paddock from behind your sunglasses. even after years of being in the limelight, you still weren't used to all the attention.

somehow, news had leaked that you would be attending the monaco grand prix this year, which meant that you had to cover yourself in team gear (that your manager had fortunately brought to your hotel room the night before) from head to toe and walk in with the other team members rather than make a glamorous entrance in a far too revealing outfit like you usually did.

not that you were complaining. your manager would have your head if you caused any more chaos especially after your recent stunt during some after party which involved a bit too much drinking and dancing for the public's liking. apparently people didn't think three awards was something to celebrate with several rounds of shots.

"over there!"

shit.

despite your best efforts to remain incognito, it seemed you were identifiable even while wearing the slightly grim team uniform you wouldn't be caught dead in if it were under normal circumstances.

in a split second decision you made a run for it, hoping to evade any and all slightly deranged fans who might cause mayhem if they managed to reach you. stifling a giggle, you sprinted down the road without sparing a single thought about how odd it looked to everyone else around. you were suddenly grateful for the fact that you were wearing attire suitable for an unexpected, albeit thrilling, getaway.

yep. your manager is definitely going to give you an earful when you get back.

after what felt like an eternity of running, you ducked in between two motor homes to try and catch your breath while also staying hidden. you were so preoccupied with your own endeavours that you hadn't noticed the two men who were once engaged in their own conversation, now ogling at you.

just your luck. were they fans too? god, when were you going to catch a break?

"sorry, i can't sign anything or take any pictures right now. thanks for your support though." you muttered, finally managing to get out your pr approved message while leaning against the wall.

you promptly figured out that you had obviously said something wrong by the sight of a growing smile on the slightly shorter, blond man. looking closer at his chest, you recognised the same brawn gp logo that you were currently wearing stitched onto his racesuit.

fuck.

you looked to the dark haired man on his right who still looked confused at your random appearance. as you moved your gaze down from his face, you then noticed the red bull racing logo on his racesuit.

double fuck. but of course it was your luck to run into the drivers and embarrass yourself!

"shit. ok, wait, hang on. sorry about that. i'm not actually like that, i swear. i'm just trying not to make my manager any angrier at me than she already is." you managed to huff out.

"no worries, take your time."

thankfully, the blond man could see that you were still desperately trying to get air in your lungs and graciously gave you time to recover.

"erm, sorry, can we start over? i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you."

you moved forward to shake both of their hands.

"jenson button, it's a pleasure. although i feel like i've already met you the amount of times you've been in the headlines."

you almost lost all your breath again as he maintained perfect eye contact while shaking your hand. you grimaced at the reminder of the mischief that you had been known for since the beginning of your career.

is this the regret that your manager was talking about during one of her lectures?

"mark webber, nice to meet you too. so, what was that all about?"

the brunet man, mark as you had just learnt, finally snapped out of his daze as he lightly shook your hand.

"oh, that? it's not a big deal, just some fans who wanted to meet me. i mean i appreciate them and i'm sure they have good intentions but it's a little scary to have a horde of people chasing you. you understand, right?"

jenson's shit-eating grin grew impossibly bigger and it was starting to get on your nerves. and this intense staring contest he had initiated didn't help.

what was his problem?

"yeah, i guess? something tells me you get recognised a lot more often than we do."

you nodded at mark's response without even giving him as much as a glance. if it weren't for the fact that you refused to lose the unofficial staring contest, you might have felt bad for practically ignoring him.

mark looked between you two and made the sensible decision to not get involved in whatever the hell was going on.

"uh, i'm gonna go get ready. see you out there, mate."

"yeah sure, see you later."

and just like that, you were alone with jenson.

"so, what's the world's biggest pop star doing at a formula 1 race?"

your face warmed at the compliment from the man who was becoming more and more attractive as time went on.

"thanks. my friend was meant to be here but something came up and she gave me her pass. i don't know anything about racing but i've heard the after parties are good. is that right?"

"good? they're better than good. they're the best parties in the world."

you raised an eyebrow at his declaration. you had been to more after parties than you could care to remember and you heavily doubted that they could be topped. sensing your uncertainty, jenson made an offer.

"tell you what. if i win the race today, you have to let me take you out to celebrate. i'll even let you watch the race from my garage."

he was on pole position and it was almost impossible to overtake at monaco. but you didn't have to know that.

you did need somewhere safe to watch from. and who knows? maybe celebrating with him could be fun.

"and what if you don't win?"

"don't worry about that, sweetheart. i'll win it just for you." he replied shooting you a wink.

jesus, was he trying to make you pass out?

"well if you're so confident then sure."

"great. let me take you to our garage. don't worry, your fans won't be able to get in there. although i can't promise that some of the team won't ask you for pictures."

"as long as they don't try and trample me i think i'll be fine!"

laughing along with him to the garage, both of you failed to notice the cameras pointed at you, broadcasting your interaction to live television.

almost two hours had passed by now and you were anxiously waiting for jenson to cross the line in first place. you didn't think watching race cars go round in circles could ever be so exciting but your mind had been undoubtedly changed after today. jenson had just begun his final lap around the prestigious circuit when the mechanics started leaving the garage. through all the emotion no one had bothered to tell you what was happening so you just rushed outside with them.

eventually you managed to push your way to the front of the crowd and rested against the wall facing the number boards waiting for the top 3 drivers arrival.

"where's jenson?" you turned to the mechanic on your right after the second and third drivers, who you found out were rubens barrichello and kimi räikkönen, parked their cars behind their respective number boards while jenson was nowhere to be found.

you soon got your answer once you saw him round the corner on foot.

"looks like he got lost!" joked the same mechanic on your right.

you shook your head and chuckled at the absurdity of a professional racing driver getting lost at a track he's driven at several times before. in the end he managed to get to the podium to raise his trophy and celebrate with his teammate.

a serene smile fell on his face as the british national anthem played for him for the fifth time that season. slowly but surely his claim to the 2009 title was becoming stronger and stronger.

as his eyes fell on his team he picked out your face in the sea of people. acting solely on impulse, he blew a kiss towards you ultimately causing an echo of wolf whistles. you made a motion as if to catch the kiss and slip it into the pocket of your jeans, saving it for later.

it would just be rude to leave the man hanging after he had let you stay in his garage. it definitely was not because he was charming your socks off.

shortly after the podium ceremony, he made his way towards the wall you were stood against. joining in with everyone else, you applauded him as he walked up. you let him celebrate with the people who had made the win possible before he finally reached you.

"congratulations, jense! you were incredible!"

"thank you, darling! would you like to try some of this champagne? might not be as good as some of the stuff you've had but i like to think victory makes it taste sweeter."

you smirked at the thought.

"if you insist." came your reply before you tilted your head back and opened your mouth to let him pour the champagne in.

for the first time since you had met him, he was speechless. snapping out of it, he poured the champagne into your mouth and the cheers seemed to become deafening. you tapped his chest to signal him to stop and wiped your mouth with your sleeve.

"you were right. victory does make it sweeter."

you mirrored the grin on his face as the celebrations almost faded away into the background. you two must have had the same thought in that moment because before you knew it, you were kissing each other as if there weren't dozens of cameras being shoved in your faces.

once again, you were breathless as you pulled away.

"i know i owe you a proper celebration, but how about dinner? just us two?"

your cheeks were starting to hurt from the permanent grin on your face now.

"sounds like a proper celebration to me."

your manager was definitely going to kill you now. but you couldn't care less; you had a dinner date with jenson button.

[violettelueur]

𝐌𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 — 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌

SUMMARY. alhaitham doesn't care about the roaming rumours about him at all. he would say the strength of his character is that he doesn't get affected by what people think about him, yet there are some things he does get worried about, especially when it came to be about you

CHARACTER(S). alhaitham

PRONOUNS. gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

TW/CONTEXT. mention of sensual activities, relationship worries, small tiny angst if you squint, grammar/spelling issues

AUTHOR NOTE. the ending feels a little incomplete to me but i really wanted to post this since it's been a while since i have written something. also, it's so weird to come back to tumblr and see a little drama going on...makes me want to back into hibernation. also this piece is for alhaitham coming home to me four times and a thank you for this weapon coming home as well ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

Alhaitham wasn’t the type to worry about mundane things. Rather, he would simply ignore them and go along with his day as if nothing happened, never letting it plague his mind or, he simply didn’t hear anything at all when he had his soundproof earpieces on. However, even though he says he doesn’t worry about anything at all as life already has many hardships, when it comes to comments about you…sometimes, he does tend to worry a little bit.

“Do you think I’m overwhelming?”

Upon hearing the deep voice, your eyes slowly began to open before blinking away the drowsiness that had nearly consumed you, noticing how you were currently relaxing on your boyfriend’s couch and that same boyfriend, who was currently seated beside your head, brushing away the straying strands of hair to make sure he didn’t accidentally sit on them.

“What do you mean by that?” you quietly asked, before ushering him to sit comfortably as you wanted to place your head upon his lap, to which Alhaitham happily obliged upon noticing how your smile brightened once you had found a suitable position to place your head on.

“Do you think I’m too much?” Alhaitham seriously queried, causing you to confusingly peek up at the Acting Grand Sage, who was currently running his fingers through your hair, as if to not only help you relax, but to also help calm himself down from the anticipation of your pending answer.

“I do not think you are overwhelming at all, matter of fact, I think you are comforting,” you answered with a small smile as you weaved your arms around his leg like it was some sort of pillow before closing your eyes again, thinking this section of the conversation was over.

“Are you sure?” Alhaitham questioned immediately after, as he began to trace the shape of your ear leading you to internally shiver at the feeling, “do I make you happy…am I the right partner for you?”

Perplexed at his sudden interrogation, you opened your eyes once again before slowly turning on to your back, peering up to notice how his face was still as stoic as ever, yet there was a glint of uncertainty in his beautiful eyes. His hand now gently stroking your cheek, tracing little letters upon the surface on your skin, as if he was trying to convey the thoughts in his mind to you before you placed your hand on top of his while nuzzling into his inner palm. “You always make me happy,” you responded earnestly. “Physically, emotionally, in every way you make me so happy.”

“Physically?” Alhaitham replied with a teasing tone.

“Oh? So, you’re going to act like we never slept together?” you shot back while glaring at him, “from what I recall, you are the one with the insatiable drive in this relationship.”

Quickly forgetting his worries from before, Alhaitham couldn’t help but recall the first time you both had met. You both were students enrolled in the Akademiya and both studying in the same darshan, yet looking back, he didn’t see you in class much - you would argue that was because he never really came to class. However, he does remember the first time you both bumped into each other in the House of Daena, when you were both looking for the same material needed for your research. You were pretty quiet and somewhat shy since you didn’t meet his gaze when you apologised. Although, as time went by, he immediately noticed how you were usually studying alone night after night and how much you hated group projects when he saw you surrounded by other students doing nothing but chatting while you were researching everything to make sure the project was successful. After noticing the annoyance on your face after the lecturer announced another group project he started coming into class to see you more, but he would never admit it due to his pride, he took it upon himself to become partners with you (much to your surprise) and since then, you never really paired up with anyone else.

When your relationship processed into something romantic, Alhaitham remembered how red-faced you got whenever he initiated a kiss behind the bookshelves or how you would turn away from his gaze when he would take hold of your hand behind his back, out of plain sight away from the other students. Now the Acting Grand Scribe didn’t have much to any experience when it came to romance, yet he didn’t think you would be as bashful as you were during the beginning stages. Yet, eventually, you became more confident in what you wanted. If you wanted a kiss, he would happily give you one, if you wanted to kiss him, you would find him anywhere in Sumeru to give him one. If you wanted a hug, Alhaitham would pull you onto his lap to let you indulge in his warmth and comfort however long you wanted. If you wanted to submit to your desires, Alhaitham would gladly give you the pleasure you had craved for and if he had to be honest, his appetite for you will probably never be satisfied and if he could, he would make you stay in bed forever, where the two of you would never be disturbed.

“What’s gotten into you, why are you asking all these questions?” you asked in concern, as you sat up to get a clearer view of your lover, who was disappointed in your sudden lack of touch, only to be delighted once again when you took a seat on his lap before wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I just heard from some people that I might be ‘too much’ and that I’m suffocating you in this relationship,” Alhaitham explained while pulling you closer to him, as if he was trying to keep you from running away from him (as if you ever would). 

“When were you the type to worry about what people say about you?” you questioned before placing your hand on his cheek to comfort him to which he instantly nuzzled into your inner palm, while inhaling a faint scent he could get from your handcream.

“I don’t care about those who talk about me, what I do care if those concerns are to do with anything about you,” your lover responded.

“My love,” you softly called out before placing a kiss upon his other cheek, “I am and have been the happiest person in all of Teyvat ever since you came into my life.”

Alhaitham, who was used to conveying his feelings in a factual manner, was now comfortably silent as he tightened his hold on you once again, before hiding his face in your neck.

“You don’t know, do you? Do you know how much I love and adore you? Alhaitham, you are my heart. Archons, you are the most hardest and yet the most easiest person to love, because it’s impossible for me not to love you,” you proclaimed with glassy eyes, having no idea why you were getting so emotional. “I cherish you so much and that scares me because how am I supposed to properly function if you chose to leave?”

“By eating a balanced meal every day and keeping healthy,” Alhaitham answered softly, causing you to giggle at his reposone, while also shaking your head at the slight disbelief that he had the audacity to say that after your emotional confession. However, you understood that this was his way of going back to his rational mindset as you felt him smile upon your shoulder before he pressed a light kiss upon your cheek, kissing away the tear that somehow escaped.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the Scribe repeated as he slowly leaned back onto the couch, while comforting you in his tight embrace to gently calm you down from your sudden emotional state, allowing you to firmly hold onto him, as if he was going to let you go anytime soon.

Alhaitham wasn’t the type to worry about mundane things. As mentioned before he would rather simply ignore them and go along with his day as if nothing happened, never letting it plague his mind…well, that is no lie nor was it ultimately the truth. When it came to the simplest things about you, Alhaitham would be the first one to know and attentively listen to anything of concern when it came to you. Your happiness was his priority and the knowledge he had wished to gain can be an afterthought. Right now and maybe to the end of his time, you were also his heart.

© violettelueur 2023 - all rights are reserved to violettelueur. Do not repost, copy, change/modify, plagiarise, translate or screenshot my work : this will also include other social media/writing platforms like AO3, Wattpad, TikTok and many more.

[onlyswan]

dreamboat | jjk (teaser)

sypnosis: aboard the dreamboat, jungkook finds himself drawn to a beautiful stranger who appears to be drowning in melancholy. weeks later, he sees her face on the other side of the aquarium at his apartment building’s lobby. he soon learns that it’s not fate’s grand romantic plans that brought you back to his life. / (alt.) / a shipwreck and a dreamboat form an unusual bond in an aquarium.

non!idoljk x f!reader (jk is a business major who works at the amusement park ; oc works at the call center) / strangers to lovers / fluff, angst, suggestive

teaser word count: 0.5k / full fic word count: 30.8k :3

teaser warnings: is it an onlyswan fic if nobody cries? (full list of warnings to be released w the fic!)

release date: sometime in july (oh wait it’s july already)

spotify playlist ♫ (still in progress and will be open to recs after release hehe)

PART ONE AND TWO ARE OUT!

note: drop a comment/send an ask if you want to be tagged (pls make sure that you’re taggable 🥺) thank you and i hope you look forward to it <3

—

“why are you here? do you even have a ticket?!” taehyung interrogates him once he reaches the gate.

“do i have a ticket? really?” jungkook smirks, tossing his backpack to the ground.

he crosses over to the other side, and with ease, sneaks his hand in between the bars to push the lock into place.

“what do you think i work here for?”

taehyung sighs and mumbles to himself. “fine, my bad. thought we worked to pay for our bills.”

he picks up the backpack and swings it over his shoulder, heading to the control booth. on the other hand, jungkook climbs on the ship the amusement park owner lovingly named the dreamboat. he places his grip on one of the many vines curiously large butterflies are attached to, fully ignoring the existence of the steps. he hoists himself up onto the wooden floor with ease.

unhappy faces with blank stares.

he smiles at them cheerfully.

“i apologize for the hold-up. i’m your captain, jeon jungkook!”

“jungkook! sit!”

“wouldn’t he be the captain?” a high school boy at the very front quips, eyes pointing downwards at taehyung.

“eh, more like the wind beneath our sails.” he ruffles the boy’s head in passing as he trudges over to his desired seat.

“what?”

his spot, a more suitable better term. the farthest row which most first timers do not dare to sit at; the part of the ship closest to the sky when it swings back and forth, higher and higher, until it feels like he’s going to fall off— but he doesn’t. for short bursts of moments, he’s flying.

the passengers are erupting in ear-splitting screams, curses, and laughter. the wide smile plastered on his face could probably be described as sadistic as he observes their reactions. most would find this ride as a nauseating, life-threatening ordeal and its name ridiculously ironic. however, to jungkook, this is what it means to be alive.

he imagined he would be alone here again today.

but as he is brought higher into the air, he discovers one person strapped to the last row of the other side of the ship.

the earth begins to move in slow motion.

they have their face buried in their palms, body shaking with what he can only guess is intense sobbing.

gone is the smile on his face.

jungkook has witnessed a few criers, sure, but not to this degree. a wave of sadness washes over him. he feels guilty and he doesn’t know why. why the hell would he be? he doesn’t even know who you are.

are you that scared? if you’re scared, why would you volunteer to go here alone? if not, then why is your heart breaking?

for a few seconds, the noises cease and his focus on you becomes amplified.

and why is his breaking too?

—

[girlkisser13]

snow on the beach

"i’ve never seen someone lit from within" "blurring out my periphery" "my smile is like i won a contest" "and to hide that would be so dishonest"

pairings: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mostly angst. childhood best friends to lovers.

summary: after one of his many travels, colin comes back home to see that you are engaged to someone else.

in the sun-dappled gardens of aubrey hall, colin bridgerton and miss y/n y/l/n had spent their childhood years in innocent joy. their laughter had filled the air as they climbed trees, chased butterflies, and whispered secrets beneath the ancient oaks. yet, as the years progressed, those simple affections deepened into something far more profound.

as the two of you grew older, your feelings for him began to shift in subtle yet profound ways. one evening, on the eve of colin’s departure for yet another of his travels, you found herself alone with him in your favorite garden alcove. the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the scene, illuminating the quiet turmoil in your heart. you could not let him leave without confessing the emotions that had burgeoned within you for so long.

“colin,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “before you leave, there is something i must tell you.”

he turned to her, his expression one of curiosity and mild apprehension. “what is it, y/n?”

drawing a deep breath, you continued, “i have long cherished our friendship, but of late, my feelings have deepened. i love you, colin. more than a friend, more than anything. i needed you to know before you go.”

for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. colin’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. the silence stretched on, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears. finally, he turned away, his thoughts a whirlwind you could not fathom.

“y/n, i…” he faltered, unable to find the words.

disheartened, you nodded, forcing a brave smile. “safe travels, colin,” you whispered before walking away, your heart aching with the weight of unspoken words.

the months passed slowly. you threw yourself into the demands of the upcoming season, but your heart remained shadowed by colin’s silence. summer brought with it a suitor who showed a keen interest in you. with your family’s financial situation growing precarious, his attention was both a blessing and a burden.

your family estate, once thriving, had fallen on hard times. your father’s investments had failed, and the pressure to secure a suitable match was immense. the suitor’s wealth and status seemed like the perfect solution. he was kind, attentive, and clearly smitten with you. but your heart belonged to another, a man who had not spoken a word since your heartfelt confession.

when colin returned to london, he found you distant and reserved, a stark contrast to the spirited girl he remembered. the danbury ball was always a grand affair as the first ball of the season, but colin’s heart sank as he watched you dance with a lord, your engagement now the talk of the ton. his heart twisted in anguish as he saw the resigned look in your eyes, the sparkle that had once been there now dimmed.

unable to bear it any longer, colin interrupted your dance, his eyes blazing with determination. “may i have this dance, miss y/l/n?” he asked, though it was more a demand than a request.

the man across from you frowned. "we are in the midst of a dance, bridgerton."

colin's gaze did not waver. "i was addressing miss y/l/n, not you."

taken aback, you hesitated before nodding reluctantly. "very well, mr. bridgerton."

as the two of you began to waltz, colin leaned in, his voice urgent. "y/n, you cannot marry him."

your eyes flashed with anger. "and why not, colin? my family's funds are dwindling. i have no other choice."

colin's grip tightened on your waist, his voice desperate. "he is not right for you, y/n. he does not deserve you."

you pulled away slightly, your expression one of deep hurt. "and who, pray tell, is right for me? who deserves me?"

he opened his mouth but said nothing, the silence spoke volumes. your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "it is too late, colin. i have no choice. my family’s funds have gone down, and i must secure my family's future."

"if it is your family's funds and reputation you are concerned about, marry me," colin implored. "i have far more wealth than that man you have chosen to marry."

you laughed bitterly. "no, colin. i will not enter into a loveless marriage. you do not love me."

"and you love him?" colin questioned.

"i believe i can grow to love him in time," you declared.

"that is not real love," colin protested.

"do not speak to me of "real love," colin!" you yelled, your voice breaking with emotion. you turned and fled into the garden of the danbury estate, your heart a storm of conflicting emotions.

"y/n, wait," colin called, following you into the night. he caught you by the hand, his voice choked with emotion. "i was a fool, a coward. i did not know how to respond, but i have never stopped thinking of you. please, forgive me."

you whirled around, your eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "you dare to say this now? after i bared my heart to you and you left me without a word? you are ruining my chance to save my family!"

desperation gave him courage. he cupped your face in his hands, his voice a fervent plea. "y/n, i love you. i always have. please, do not let this be the end."

you pulled away from him, walking further into the garden, "you had your chance, colin. you left me with nothing but silence."

he caught your hand once more, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "y/n, i have been away for far too long, and in that time, i have come to realize something of great importance. when we were younger, i made a promise to you— a promise that i would never be dishonest with you."

you turned towards him, your gaze remaining steady. your arms were crossed protectively over your chest, a subtle barrier against the world.

colin took a step forward, his eyes earnest. "it is with that promise in mind that i must confess something i have hidden for far too long. y/n, i have never met anyone so filled with light as you are. your presence brightens every room and every moment. your smile... it is as if you have won a contest, and the prize is the joy you bring to those around you. i love you, deeply and truly."

your guarded demeanor softened slightly, a crack forming in the fortress around your heart.

a heavy silence followed his confession. your lips parted slightly, but no words emerged. your posture remained rigid, a shield against the vulnerability you surely felt.

his heart ached at the sight of your guarded stance. "y/n," he said gently, "please, let me show you what i cannot express merely in words."

before you could respond, he kissed you, pouring all his love and regret into that single, searing kiss. for a moment, you resisted, but then you melted into his embrace, the intensity of your shared emotions overwhelming any lingering doubt.

when the two of you finally broke apart, your eyes were filled with tears, but also with a glimmer of hope. "colin, you hurt me deeply," you whispered. "but i cannot deny my heart."

he held you close, his voice a whisper against your ear. "y/n, i will spend my days proving to you that my love is true. please just give me the chance."

you looked up at him, "colin, i... i have waited so long for you to say these words. i feared i would never hear them."

he gently brushed a tear from your cheek. "i am sorry for the pain my silence caused you, but i am here now, and i will not leave again."

your arms slowly encircled him, your embrace warm and full of the affection you had long harbored. "and i believe you, colin. i truly do."

with a final, lingering kiss under the starlit sky, you and colin had found your way back to each other, your love rekindled and stronger for the trials it had endured.

[kazumiku]

Of Pride and Prejudice

p.logue ↬ the grand escape ( 1,147 words )

"i can't leave. not right now, not like this, please—"

begged a desperate tone, a voice that rumbles from your throat. its choked, you're hanging on by a string, snapped by a slap that resonates through the large hall of your home. it was silence for a while, where three figures stood unmoving, the thick tension wrapping around your necks as the clock stopped, if only for a moment.

then it broke. "that is enough," your mother was sick of negotiating, her hand raised after striking your head the other way. the sting settled into your cheek, wallowing you in your own hopelessness as a masculine voice speaks up. "we understand where your worry stems, albeit this is not the suitable time for arguing." he reasons.

it was true. the sand in your hourglass was diminishing rapidly, and with the people raging at the front of your gates, it was only a matter of the clock striking two before they barge in like animals on a raid hunt. there was a bounty over your family, mysteriously so, and your parents will have to keep whatever left is little to save. and that includes you and your siblings.

it was an endless discussion, day and night, an ongoing debate that draws to a stop today. today is the day you and your siblings have to flee, after all, for your own safety if not theirs. your parents lived a long life, they only wish for their children to thrive one way someway, somehow, once the heat dies down. "we promise to look for you once its all settled, honey. you must understand where we're coming from. we worry for the three of you the most."

your mother's words were enough to pry tears at the corners of your lids. leaving them behind was the last thing you wished, and they knew that well. but they love you much too dearly to let the empire tumble down on your shoulders instead. this problem is not yours to shoulder but theirs, and they'll solve it on their own as the current rulers of the state.

if they fail to protect the kingdom, then so be it. their priorities were straight, and there would be no use in trying to prod at their resolve in your favor now. if you were easily settled on a stone-hard conclusion when your heart sets for it, you can only imagine how far more your parents are in that matter.

"everything is packed. aether and lumine are already settled within the carriage. you shall head through the back on your way out." they inform you, your father reaching out to grasp your shoulder. it shattered your heart to teensy shards by how gentle his contact is on your arm, holding you like fragile glass. and you were, at this moment, under their contemplative gazes. "if this does not work out for us, then you shall make this our last command, as the eldest and the inheritor of my crown; look out for each other. stay out of trouble's way. and, especially stay out of the public eye." commanded in your father's deep voice, full of mourn.

"don't worry, for you are not alone. we have assigned you a guard. he'll write us a letter if you ever so wish, but, for now, let's focus on you and your siblings' safety, will that be understood?" your mother explained. and as much as you wish to shake your head in defiance, you bobbed your chin meekly, a wallowing sniffle resonating at the back of your throat as you ducked your head. "in six moon cycles, if we don't reach by that, then you must forgive us. please live your life."

the floor reflected your doubt clearly, but you're not left with any more choices when you're ushered out the hall hurriedly. you couldn't even hug your parents goodbye, nor give them at least the littlest of waves of farewell when you're pushed into the back by a panicking maid. during the conversation with your parents, you hadn't realized the booming voice that comes from the opposite exit from where you are, the outside of your front gates flooding with protest and people overflowing with rage.

"stay safe," the helper whispered before you could look back, the door slammed in front of your face, leaving you out in the back of the garden. the wind was dormant as you walked through the unmoving grass, the evening was quiet save for the screams of profanities stemming from the front, which were eventually muddled by the distance as you stray further into the grassy pathway, on your way to an obscured exit behind the foliage.

you push the hidden door open and the sight of an outdated carriage meets you. it looks worn, but not too shabby, two horses at the forepart ushered down by the coachman as it noises at your appearance. your arm is suddenly grasped in a firm grip, and your left to almost stumble on your ankles when another palm landed on the small of your back too. "careful. you almost stepped on a puddle, majesty," ah. you recognized that voice. the captain of the royal guards. "your parents assigned me. don't fret."

"ah, no, i was just a little startled. apologies," you breathed, and he nods in acceptance of your excuse, assisting you up into the carriage. aether was already asleep on lumine's shoulder as you settled inside from the opposite side. the assigned guard situates out beside the coachman, and with a flick of the leather halter, the horses pump their hooves on the ground.

the sound of rocks under the running wheels filled your ears as the long road goes, and your heart settles emptily in your chest. your body feels null, naturally. a moment of reprieve, you tried, but there was nothing to be relieved of when you're flooded with worry. lumine from across you could tell as she called for your name quietly. "hey, don't worry. it'll be alright, okay?" her mellow tune lifted your spirits as she outstretched her hand. "come here, let's cuddle. you can fall asleep on my other shoulder too if you feel like it, i'm just going to watch a stream my phone.

"this carriage is so slow, i hope nobody catches us lacking like this. god, the things i'd do to ride on the rb19 instead," she jokes as you take her hands and move seats. "it's too bad you can't sponsor this season," lumine couldn't help but sigh dejectedly, and your thumb strokes her knuckles in comfort. "i'm sorry, i feel bad. i couldn't change their minds. i really, really tried."

"no, no, it's fine. don't say sorry, you didn't do anything wrong. they're only doing this for our safety, and that's what you should think of."

that's right. there's no need to worry.

taglist; @zoropookie @sketcheeee @skyoverkill1 @liuaneee @aruatsu

@luvvxsn @kinvasions @trulyylee @scarawiki @eutopiastar

@yunyunjajangman @auroratumbles @heusalettle @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @candyescapism

@justpeachyteastea

m.list ; 01 → tweaking bad

a/n; yippee i finally got this shit out (im so sorry if its disappointing i gave up after losing my drafts twice cry)

[to-thelakes]

breakfast dates

pairing; frank castle x fem!reader

summary; frank had been out of town for the past week and your insomnia had made a grand return but you weren't gonna let sleepiness stop you from having a much needed breakfast date

warnings; fluff, reader has insomnia

notes; another day, another fluffy one-shot! i'm honestly semi-surprised i managed to do this because much like the reader in this, i am very sleep deprived today (due to trying to fix my sleep schedule)! but here is day two of fluffbruary! the prompts i used today were 'scent' and 'jam'. once again, this has been proof-read but my aforementioned sleepy state might have meant that i missed any grammatical errors so apologies in advance! otherwise, enjoy some fluffy frank <3

ao3

To say you didn’t want to get out of bed was truly an understatement. You were exhausted and your insomnia had been flaring up for the past few nights. It was frustrating but you needed to get up. You were starting work at midday and you were supposed to meet Frank for breakfast. He had been out of town for the past week and to make up for missing your birthday, he was taking you out for a birthday breakfast.

Logically, you knew that if you just texted Frank and told him that you were tired that he’d be happy to come over instead. But he had made the effort after he definitely had a long night of driving just to be back in New York for you on the one morning you had free this week. Plus, the diner he was taking you to had been where you’d gone on your first (not really) date so you wanted to go.

It took 10 minutes of inwardly fighting with yourself before you kicked the covers back and got up. You rubbed your eyes, picking up an outfit that would be suitable for work and your impromptu date. You brushed your teeth, downed a glass of water and sprayed the new perfume your mom had gotten you for your birthday before leaving the house.

It was only a 5 minute walk to the diner and when you stepped inside, Frank was sitting at your usual booth waiting for you. He had a cup of coffee in his hand and a grin spread across his face when he spotted you. You couldn’t help but smile back even if you were still a little sleepy from your early start.

He greeted you halfway, wrapping you up in a hug and pressing a kiss to your lips. He muttered a soft hello and his gruff voice made you want to melt right into him. It had been too long without him and there was something soothing about the return to his presence. You held onto him for probably a little longer than necessary before you broke apart and sat on opposite sides of the booth. 

Frank took another sip of his coffee while you settled in your seat, discarding your coat to one side and adjusting your dress shirt.

“That a new perfume?” He asked as you pushed your hair behind your ear. You nodded.

“Yeah, my mom got it for me,” You explained. He smirked, leaning back in the booth. You narrowed your eyes, “Hang on.” You paused and watched as Frank’s lips grew from a smile to a grin; teeth and all, “You told my mom to get it didn’t you!” You suddenly exclaimed, unable to help the smile that spread across your face at your sudden realisation. He lifted his coffee up to his lips, taking a sip to hide how his smile had somehow grown even more.

“You kept talkin’ about it.” His words were punctuated with a small shrug and you scoffed. But before you could make any response, the waitress came over to take your order. Frank ordered pancakes, maple syrup and bacon and you ordered sunny-side up eggs, bacon, waffles and a side of toast. The toast always came with the most delicious jam. You had begged the waitress more than once for the brand but she always refused - it was a company secret, you had been told.

Once the waitress had taken your order and brought you over a glass of water and a cup of tea, she disappeared to the back. This left you alone with Frank again.

“You look tired, sweetheart.” Frank’s voice had softened as he reached his hand out across the table. You leant forward so that you could lift his hand to be resting against your cheek. His hands were so warm and even if they were callused from the years of intense work and suffering he had to endure, they were perfect for him.

“I wasn’t the one driving all night,” You muttered, letting your eyes fall closed as you settled into the warm feeling of his hand. Frank chuckled and you opened your eyes to admire him. The past week had been rough without him but seeing him again made it all so much better. Your intertwined hands dropped down to the table and he gently pulled his away so he could pat the seat next to him.

He knew that you needed the closeness of him just as much as he needed to be close to you. Frank was hopelessly attached to you and it terrified him most of the time but in moments like this, he longed to protect you and hold you. 

Without even a second thought, you obliged him and switched to sit beside him in the booth. Then, you snuggled up to his side, wrapping your arm around his waist. He buried his face into your hair, inhaling the scent of the new perfume that was clinging to every part of you. He had suspected that it’d smell perfect on you and he was right, it did.

“You’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” You declared. You felt the rumble of his chuckle in his chest and that sound was the most soothing thing in the world to your deprived ears. If you didn’t have any responsibilities for the rest of the day, you would have let yourself fall asleep pressed against him. But you still needed to go to work later.

“I ain’t gonna argue with that,” He said, pressing a kiss to your hair. You turned your head up to look at him, your back aching from the slightly awkward position that you had got yourself into.

“You better not.” You were grinning now and he cupped your cheek, pulling you up to connect your lips. It was a soft kiss - like all of them had been recently - but it was just what you needed. After a moment longer of enjoying his embrace, you pulled away and returned to your side of the table. You talked a little bit about how the job had been before the waitress came back over with your orders. She placed them down and you wasted no time digging into the pot of jam and spreading a thick layer across the buttered toast.

Frank watched in amusement as you wolfed down the slices of bread. But once you had sufficiently enjoyed the toast, you returned back to civility and the two of you went back and forth about your plans for the day. Frank said that while you were at work, he’d go home and take a nap. Then he’d come over to your place later.

He offered to make you dinner but you insisted that it was okay. You kept reminding him that he had been driving most of the night and he needed to relax. But Frank was ever the gentleman and he wanted you to be pampered. 

Even if neither of you said it, he could tell that you were tired and that the insomnia had reared its ugly head again in a way that wasn’t so easily solved. It had already been bad before he left for the job last week and you had both come to the conclusion that his presence had been the best cure. So, he could only guess how much worse it had become while he was gone.

But you were stubborn and weren’t going to give up easily so he simply decided that he wasn’t going to give you a choice in having a pampered evening. You deserved to be loved and you deserved to be able to relax and he would be damned if he didn’t help you feel that way.

<3