#asshole reader self saving system AU | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightxsvt · 4 years ago

Text

3 dates | c.sc

pairing ➳ badboy!Seungcheol x female!reader

genre ➳ badboy au, romance, some fluff, angst, bad attempt at humour, gets spicy at the end.

word count ➳ 12.4k+ (i have NO idea how this became so long so strap in for a ride)

warnings ➳ cursing, mentions of killing, mentions criminal activities, slight violence(non explicit), smoking, ma man Seungcheol ain't your typical badboy, self doubt, blackmailing, reader does all sorts of risky things cuz she's a SIMP, blood(nothing explicit), kissing, marking, some breast worshipping, grinding, reader is horny lol. (Please lemme know if I forgot anything.)

synopsis ➳ after one fateful encounter with him you cannot get him out of your head. so you opt to do some crazy things to catch his attention and even snag a few dates with him. only trouble is he isn't the type to stay after the whole disposition is over.

Swirling the third drink in your hand you heave yet another depressed sigh. You are so tired that you feel like you can just slump on the counter and pass out. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stop for a drink, you alcohol riddled brain thinks.

The plans you had with Katelyn was cancelled last moment; she called to tell you that her thesis submission date was moved forward and so she couldn't hang out with you tonight. You're in the middle of an existential crisis quite literally, the too many part time jobs yet still lack of money and copious amounts of study getting to you. Staring hard at your drink you contemplate if it is worth giving up on college and your dream of becoming an arts major. It sure feels tempting right now, the long hours at the diner and not enough sleep at night proving to be the worst nuisance.

Sighing you put down your drink. It's still early, you should go home and try to catch up on the much needed sleep. You really had no intention of grabbing a drink tonight; you have morning classes tomorrow but you made a last moment decision to stop for a drink on your way back home. You didn't take your usual route to home today, and while trudging through the streets tiredly you came across this bar called Seventeen's. You've heard stories about this place, how it is the home to local gangs and how it's bad people's turf and what not. Your curiosity, probably too much of that made you get inside for a drink even though all the bones in your body ached. The inside is what you expected, nowhere near fancy but dingy, just decent enough. The people inside didn't look friendly and if the chains and tattoos on them gave any indication you'd say the rumours are true; this is the turf of gangs. The drinks taste decent, not the best but not the worst and from the overall look of this place you don't really have a reason to come back.

You're about to stand up from your stool when a large, clammy hand grabs your wrist out of nowhere, making you jump. "Hey sexy, sit down. Let me buy you a drink," the owner of the hand, a large, tattooed middle aged man slurs making your nose scrunch out of disgust. You're wearing nothing that can be called sexy; a plain cardigan and jeans and the way he looks you up and down makes you want to poke his eyes out.

You really shouldn't have come here. Clenching your jaw, you meet his eyes, "What makes you think I'm interested to have a drink with you?"

"Oh come on, why would you be here then, lookin' all nice? Just sit down," the man drawls, an ugly smile on his face. He still hasn't let go of your wrist and it's making you impatient. Looks like you're gonna have to kick his balls tonight. Maybe the self defense classes didn't completely go to waste.

"Get your disgusting hands off me while I'm being nice, sleazeball," you hiss at him, trying to get his hand off. The man stands up growling, "What did you say you bitch?" You're preparing to break his nose when out of nowhere a punch lands on his face that sends him tumbling to the ground. The attacker gets on top of him and twists his arm and you can literally hear a bone snap.

Shit.

"I think she said she is not interested," the man hisses, landing yet another another hit on his face before kicking his groin and getting up. When he turns around and his eyes meet yours, your heart skips a few beats and you almost The man is drop dead gorgeous, someone you would not expect to see here but probably on the cover of a high end magazine. His blond hair is long, crossing the nape of his neck as well as some covering his forehead. What takes your breath away the most is his eyes, the most beautiful pair you've ever seen. They seem to have their own galaxies in them, so deep and mesmerising and decorated with lashes long enough to make you jealous. His dress up, black jacket and jeans, immediately tells you what he is; a gang member.

"You should get home, lady," He speaks in a no nonsense tone, his face cold as ice. But you're offended. "Excuse me? Who are you calling lady? You make it sound like I'm old." You puff your cheeks and cross your arms, trying to appear intimidating. "Besides I had the situation under control, you didn't need to butt in." The man keeps looking at you with that no nonsense look, his features displaying annoyance if you are right and he's clearly not intimidated. The dude on the floor grunts and makes an effort to get up, only to be kicked by your saviour once more. "Hey Mingyu, get him out of here. What was this piece of trash doing here anyway?" The man orders to someone before turning to look at you, "Do you live far?"

"Uh- no, a ten minutes walk from here maybe," you reply unsurely, surprised at his question. The blond haired man nods before grabbing your wrist, "I'll walk you home. Hurry up, lady." You have a feeling he's purposely calling you that and though you start following him out of the bar, you make grunts of protest.

"Oh yeah, why? Trying to find out my address? So you can come later and hurt me like that guy?" You would not be this brazen if it wasn't for the alcohol in your system, after all the man next you isn't a friendly one if the rumours are true. The man raises a brow at you, "Did you do something that requires me to beat you up?" You hiccup at his serious tone. Does he not get a joke? He lets go of your hand now that you're at a safe distance from the bar but still stays close enough to you as your steps are rather stumbling and messy. You aren't fully drunk but your body is tired and feels like will shut down any second.

You really need some sleep.

"You know I'm not that drunk. You don't have to walk me home." You complain. "I'm walking you home because this isn't a nice place you should be alone at night. What happened earlier could happen again." He says not looking at you. "Mhmm," you keep on trudging behind him, "Thank you so much for your kind gesture, sir." You mock him but he doesn't reply, staring straight ahead, completely ignoring you as he walks quietly. In silence you two walk the rest of the path, before finally stopping as your apartment comes into view. At this point it feels like your bones will break and you will plop down on the concrete any second, but you manage to keep standing. "Well, thanks for walking me home." You shift your weight from one foot to another. "And for helping me back there." He shrugs coolly, a bored expression on his face. He's turning to walk away when you call, "Hey- I didn't get your name."

"What do you need it for?" He side glances at you. You shrug, "I don't know. You helped me so I thought it'd be nice to know your name." "You don't need to. Go inside, lady." He says, his tone final and starts marching away. You wait a couple moments before yelling, "Asshole!" and quickly rushing inside your building, partly afraid he's gonna come back.

You won't be surprised if you get killed tonight.

"So you are telling me Choi Seungcheol walked you home?" Katelyn screams in your ear, jolting up from her seat, earning glares from other people at the library in the process. "That's his name?" You whisper-yell, grabbing her hand to pull her back down. "I'm guessing from the blond hair you said," Katelyn shrugs. "Uh huh." You mean back in your chair, "He was hot though."

"Is that seriously all you have to say?" Katelyn whines exasperatedly. "No, I mean, if it wasn't for the way he dresses or talks I would have thought he's a model or something." You murmur.

"Are you sure he didn't hurt you?" Katelyn questions. "Hell no!" You frown. "He saved me from that creepy old dude. I was surprised too. I wish I didn't drink so much, I could have gotten a better look at his face," you sigh. "Seriously?" Katelyn raises a brow at you.

"Girl, you should have seen him. His aura and the way he carried himself was...so hot." You grin to yourself. Katelyn watches you like you've grown two heads. "Are you trying to tell me you have a crush on that gangster?" You smile sheepishly, "Maybe, I mean it's harmless. He was broody yet charming and I'm a girl so.... Also, it's not like he likes me too and is gonna come running whenever I ask him to bang me." You mutter.

"Oh he's gonna break your bones and bang your skull against a wall. That's what he's gonna do."

"Come on! Maybe he isn't so bad. Maybe the rumours are just rumours. Maybe he just looks intimidating and dresses up like that and people thinks he's a gangster." "Really? His name is on every bad thing that happens around here. From illegal racing to murders. Do you know that people say he has killed too?" "Like I said, rumours," you shrug being your stubborn self. Katelyn holds her hands up in surrender, "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm glad you're alive so let's just put this behind us, shall we?" You don't reply but wiggle your brows at her, a conspirational look on your face. "Oh no, don't look at me like that," Katelyn warns. "Let's go to that bar tonight. Please?" You give her your best puppy eyes. "What are you? Fucking crazy? You wanna get killed?" She whisper-yells, scowling at you. "No. I just wanna take another look at him. Without the alcohol in my system you know. Besides, the place isn't that bad." You reply.

"Well then get killed by yourself. I'm not coming with you."

"I'll help you with your papers for the rest of the semester."

"Shit."

"Well, looks like your wish won't be coming true," Katelyn muses chugging down her fourth glass as you keep playing with your first one. It's nearing an hour since you've come to the bar and there has been no sign of the man you desperately seek. The place is exactly like it was the other day, filled with people who you wouldn't want to mess with.

Yet here you are.

"Let's call it a night," Katelyn sighs. "We're just wasting our time." You know that too but you don't want to leave; not just yet. You are well aware that this is just pathetic but you've this crazy urge to see that man once again. You don't know why you feel this way; you never felt like this before. Why are thinking yourself to death about a complete stranger? Has some kind of spell been casted on you?

"Yeah, let's get going," you murmur half heartedly. You help your friend stand up as she's a little wobbly on her feet and together you make your way through the door. "Should we call a cab?" You ask Katelyn. She shakes her head no and you nod, you arms wrapped around hers to support her in case she looses her balance. You start stepping away from the bar and towards the road to her place until a noise from behind makes you stop in your tracks.

"Did you hear that?" You ask, whipping your head behind. There's no one around and the street is mostly dark other than the light flashing from the name of the bar. You hear the sound once again and this time you can locate where it's coming from. There's an abandoned playground at the back of the bar and you've a feeling that's the source.

Katelyn hisses as she sees you step towards there. "What are you doing!"

"Didn't you hear that?"

"Yes I did. That's why I say we leave!" You ignore her and cautiously keep on stepping forward, mentally cursing yourself for wearing heels. Katelyn follows behind you murmuring all kinds of warnings. "You know curiosity killed the cat, right?" She whispers.

You roll your eyes, "Well I'm not a cat. Just- be quiet. It can be nothing." You both move past the bar gingerly and towards the playground at the back. There are old gallons of oil and abandoned materials just around the corner and you two quickly hide among them. It takes you a while to get adjusted to the low light after you poke your head up from the hiding spot.

You're eyes fix on him immediately. His blond hair makes him easily recognisable amid the darkness. There is a few more people around him, all kicking something in the ground. Not something, but someone. The man lying on the ground groans in pain and you realize this is what you both heard. "Shit," You hear Katelyn curse from beside you. "We need to get going." Instead of replying, you keep your eyes trained on the scene unfolding, holding your breath. You're tranced. Seungcheol lands continuous punched on the guy laying below him and after a moment his writhing frame seems to stop moving as it falls limp.

Fuck.

"You know in movies this is the part where people get caught." Katelyn whispers, her voice hoarse and her hand clutching yours in a tugging motion. "Uh-huh. But I can't seem to move. I wonder if he's... really dead." You whisper back. "Are you fucking crazy!" She hisses. "You wanna witness murder?"

Before you can reply you hear a sound that echoes through the empty field and it takes a second for you two to realise that it came from any one of you two. You don't have the time to figure out who made it as you both are crawling away from the playground without looking back, head crouched low to avoid being seen. You don't know if they heard that or if they're coming behind you, you both just keep scrambling, moving until you're past the corner. As soon as possible you both get on your feet and run like the grim reaper is chasing you, stopping only when you are far enough from the bar.

"I am never listening to you again!" Katelyn yells.

It's been a good few days since your near death experience and you somehow find yourself in front of that bar once again. You and Katelyn have not brought up that incident after that night. You made yourself believe that it was over and came to a conclusion that it is better to forget that man and leave all of it behind, no matter how much your heart disagreed. But it's easier said than done; you may not mention him out loud but in the back of your mind you think of him. He's like a ghost, haunting you all the time, plagueing your thoughts when you go to bed at night. It felt like he was ever existent and there was an itch in your heart that drove you insane.

Maybe that's why your subconscious brought you here, in front of Seventeen's, once again. You were on your way back home from library and you thought you took your usual route, until you realized you were standing in front of that place. But what is even terrifying is that the man haunting your mind stands in front of the entrance of the bar and you blink a few times to make sure you are not hallucinating. He's leaned against the entrance door, cigarette between his lips and from his pocket he fetches a lighter to light the poison in his mouth.

Damn, lighting up a cigarette never looked this sexy.

He hasn't seen you yet and you contemplate running the other way. That's the sensible thing to do but you, not being a sensible person, start walking towards him. Your footsteps make him look up and notice you and like the last time, there is no expression on his face. It's the same bored yet handsome face except now in daylight you can take a better look at him and this time, you notice a little mole on the left of his face, by his nose. Realising he's gonna stay silent you decide to speak, "Hi... It's me... Do you remember me?" Wow. That's such an intelligent thing to ask.

With the monotoned yet serious expression on his face, he goes, "Why won't I? I don't have Alzheimer's."

So he can joke.

You laugh, an awkward, probably exaggerated laugh. "What are you doing here? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" He cuts to the chase, his voice brassy and deep, almost threatening. You want to roll your eyes. "Who are you to say? I can be wherever I want whenever I want, thank you very much." "Well then, have fun getting in trouble like last time." He's nonchalant as he blows a smoke right past you and stands up straight, turning away. "Wait!" You almost grab his hand, desperate to stop him.

What is wrong with you? Your subconscious slaps her forehead. What are you holding him back for? To say 'hello sir, I think you're hot, can you please put your dick inside me'? Seungcheol turns his head back, his eyebrow cocked up.

Why do you find everything about him so attractive?

"Um...I know your name, Seungcheol." You speak, trying to sound intimidating, like knowing his name gives you some power over him. There's something definitely wrong with you which is why you don't want him to leave just yet and which is why you're stalling time. But it seems to have done the job as he pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and turns towards you, an annoyed look on his face. "How do you know that?" The timbre of his tone is deep and it rakes shivers down your spine. "Well, you've built quite a reputation for yourself so it isn't hard to get your name." You shrug coolly. "Well, if you know so much about my reputation, you should know what I'm capable of." His lone is low, almost threating as he starts to take slow steps towards you making you step back out of reflex.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe you will also end up like the curious cat.

"Oh yes, I know. People have got a lot to say about you," you try to sound unfazed, not meeting his eyes that you feel are burning holes on your face. "What are you doing here, lady?" he asks slowly, pausing between each word and glaring at you as he continues to step forward. You can feel his patience thinning.

"I swear to God if you call me that-"

"What are you doing here?" This time his tone is scary, too scary. It makes you lose the ability to speak for a second as his dark gaze bores into you. He has backed you up against the wall behind you and you swallow. Right, what are you doing here? It probably has something to do with a very hot individual and his insanely attractive aura. Scratch that you are a hundred percent sure it has something to do with the blond haired, enticing man in front of you. He's driving you mad and you need to get your fill of him.

"Go out with me," you state and you are sure you've never spoken words more stupid than that. Internally, you cringe and pray that the ground below you would open and take you straight to the fiery pits.

This is the first time you see some sort of expression come across his face; surprise. He looks utterly shocked and somewhat confused. His mouth opens just a little and he squints at you, "What?"

There's no going back now.

"Go out with me. Let's go on three dates." you say once more, looking him in the eye. He seems to appear even more surprised, a dumbstruck look sitting on his face. He observes you quietly for a while and you can feel the gears in his head shifting. You wonder what he's gonna say next. Or maybe he won't say anything but bang your head on the wall and leave you to die alone. "I'm sorry I'm not following," he looks genuinely perplexed. "I want to go on three dates with you. They say after three dates you can figure out whether you like that person or not and I think I like you so..."

I think I like you.

The biggest understatement of the year.

Seungcheol tilts his head, an amused expression on his face as he studies you, those sharp eyes of his settling on yours, "What is your deal, sweetheart?" He crosses his arms, a brow raised. Sweetheart? That's new. And definitely better than lady. You can't deny how hearing him call you that makes your insides melt. "Nothing. I just want to date you," you shrug, trying to keep your wits together. His proximity is driving you wild; you can sniff a faint smell of cologne and cigarette, him being inches away from you. This time he laughs loudly, a mocking laugh you'd say. "Who sent you?"

Oh my god.

You roll your eyes. "Nobody sent me! Do I look like I'm a gang member or something?" "Then I don't see a reason why you'd want to date me," He states, throwing a challenging look at you.

"What if I said I have a thing for bad boys?"

He snorts. "You don't look the type to date bad boys," he mocks. "Who are you to say that?" You cross your arms. "I want to date you because I think you're hot, okay?" You can not believe you just said that. Looks like you don't have control over your mouth anymore. Warmth spreads throughout your face like a forest fire.

Seungcheol narrows his eyes on you, his tongue poking his cheek as he stands in front of you as if trying to read your mind. After a beat he sighs before looking at you, his eyes becoming darker than usual and his gaze unforgiving. "Hey. Does it look like I'm playing house here? Do you have any idea about the shit I do? The dirty work I do? I don't care if you have a fucking fetish or whatever but this is the last time I'm warning you. I don't want to see you around again. If I see you here once more, you're in fucking trouble," he spits and starts stomping away. His tone is serious and you know very well he is not joking, which is why you use your last resort. You're embarrassed at yourself for being so desperate but at the same time you feel shameless. It has almost turned into a game at this point, you want to make him surrender. That's right, you want him to give in. "You shouldn't be like that with me. I saw you, a few days ago. That night, when you and your friends were beating up that guy...in the playground," you casually stroll to come stand right behind him.

You can't believe you are blackmailing a gangster. Your death must be near.

Seungcheol whips his head back, his eyes glaring at you and you can almost see fire in them. Finally, you got his attention.

"My friend also saw it, we both did. You killed him, didn't you? Me and my friend witnessed a murder. What do you say? Should we go to the station?" You can see his jaw clench and you can't hold back a victorious smirk. Moments pass by as your words hang in the air and the tension between you gets thicker. Yet once more he surprises you, breaking the silence with a chuckle, "Well I killed one person, what makes you think I can't take care of another?"

You swallow.

"Well, my friend already knows so if I go missing you can be sure that the cops will come to you first." You throw back at him.

When did you get so wreckless?

Seungcheol stares at you for a few more seconds before shrugging and moving his hand dismissively, "Well then go tell the cops. I don't give a shit." He starts walking back to the bar leaving you starstruck. He stops and turns towards you before opening the door, "Also, I meant it. I hope I don't see you around. Otherwise I may just have to hurt that pretty face."

You don't show up after that.

Mostly because you are embarasssed.

It's been a good while after your last encounter with Seungcheol and you didn't go to the police, obviously. Because you don't have evidence and from what you've heard Seungcheol is pretty influential around here and you don't need to go to an extent to get on his bad side. You're definitely gonna end up dead if you do so, which you don't want just yet.

Classes have just finished and you and Katelyn step out of the classroom together, walking through the hallways and into the main campus. She rambles on about some bad sushi she ate yesterday while your mind remains preoccupied. Maybe you need to get laid. Maybe that'll make you forget about Seungcheol. You just need good dick that's probably why you were so desperate for him.

That's just a stupid lie.

You don't realise Katelyn is calling you until she shakes you by the shoulder and you snap back into reality. You notice her face is as pale as a ghost and following her line of sight your eyes stop on him.

Him. Seungcheol.

What?

You double take, blinking furiously to confirm your vision. He's standing there, in the parking area of your uni, leaned against a convertible Ferrari, a cigarette between his lips. He looks relaxed, like he does this regularly. Students whisper in each others ear while gawking at him curiously. "What did you do!" Katelyn yells. "Nothing!" You hiss back.

"Then why is he here!"

"I don't know!"

Your eyes meet with Seungcheol's and a smirk spreads across his face making you shiver. He stands up straight and tilts his head, an indication for you to come closer to him. "Fuck, he's here for me," you mumble. "Of course he's here for you, dumbass," Katelyn snaps. "Well, if I don't return, you know who killed me." You sigh starting to walk towards him. "Wait- you're going with him?" She asks incredulously.

"Don't worry. I'll keep my phone on. I don't think he's gonna murder me, I mean there are so many witnesses." You inhale deeply, leaving behind a lost looking Katelyn.

Seungcheol says nothing as you stand right in front of him raising an inquisitive brow but he only holds open the door for you to get in. Deciding to follow him you enter the car quietly and a wave of gasps go through the crowd.

There's gonna be talk about this tomorrow.

Seungcheol, still smirking victoriously for some reason rounds the car and gets inside and within seconds you're hitting the road. There's a thick silence for a while, which feels like ages to you. You're overwhelmed, bewildered to say anything; your poor brain still processing what is happening. You're nervous, jittery as you fiddle with you bag and look out on your side, for some reason scared to look at him.

What if he really kills you? He wouldn't, right?

"You're awfully quiet," Seungcheol says matter of factly as he spares you a glance while driving.

"I'm... processing."

"What are you, a robot?"

"Why are you doing this?" You question instead.

"Doing what?"

"Okay, you know very well what I mean. Why are you picking me up from uni all of a sudden? How do you even know I'm a student there?" "I have resources and...you didn't protest at all. You came along nicely," Seungcheol raised a brow at you, a cocky smile on his lips. You don't answer but continue to stare at him, trying to pin him down with your gaze. He finally sighs and pulls the car to a stop by the side of the road, the sudden brake making you slightly jerk in your seat. "I've decided to give you those 3 dates. That's why," He is calm, unreadable and you wonder if this is a prank. Then again, he has no reason to prank you, does he? "Really?" Your voice comes out breathy. "Yes. I thought I'd give you a taste of how it feels to be with someone like me. I can scare people without physically hurting them you know," He says in a menacing tone.

"So what? You're taking me to an underground fight or something?" You question. "Nah, we're keeping it simple today." He smirks as he starts the car again and turns on the radio, an indication that he doesn't want to converse anymore.

Shamelessly you take a good look at Seungcheol; he's dressed in another jacket today paired with a black tee underneath. Today, you notice he has upped his accessory game, his fingers full of rings and chains dangling from his neck. But what catches your attention is a tattoo, something like a dragon and words written in a language you don't understand, peeking from underneath his sleeve. You almost ask about it but decide it'll probably be too much and he wouldn't answer you anyway.

As you do so, in the back of your mind you think you should have dressed better, something cuter, more appropriate for a date rather than a plain blouse and jeans. But then again who knew Choi Seungcheol was gonna show up out of the blue. You're gnawing at your lower lip, lost in your thoughts when the car is pulled to a halt and you realize your ride is over. You're parked in front of a diner called Lacy's and from the vibe that the place is giving, you can tell that this is place where people like him hang out. You raise a questioning brow at Seungcheol who says, "I know it doesn't look fancy but trust me I has some of the best food I've ever eaten." Taking his words for now you quickly type out a text to Katelyn letting her know you're in one piece and get out of the car.

Once you're seated you look around the place which is relatively empty except some men playing pool at the far end. You watch Seungcheol who has gone to the reception booth to place your orders; his posture relaxed as he leans against the counter and talks to the girl standing there. They seem to know each other because their chat takes longer than it should and the girl has a shy, almost flirty smile on her face.

He probably fucks her.

You shake the thought off your head as the gangster comes back and sits in front of you. There's silence for a second as you wonder if you should just ask the questions that run free around your mind. "Are the rumours true?" You blurt out. He's raises a brow.

"About you. You know..."

"Do you want them to be true?" He asks back. "I don't...know," you reply. "Well, I think it depends on each person. If you want it to be true it is true, if you don't it isn't," he shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Why don't you just give me a straight answer?" you snap. He smirks as if he's having fun but doesn't reply, watching you with his arms crossed. You roll your your eyes, blowing out an exasperated breath. "You know, I haven't seen one like you. Willingly hanging out with dangerous people, going to dangerous places. You say you saw me kill someone yet you're here. You're almost desperate to get in trouble," he observes. "I'm not desperate to get in trouble. I just...I'm just- attracted to you alright?" This is so embarrassing. You need to shut your mouth. "You've been on my mind ever since that night. I wanna see exactly how deep I'm into you." You bite your lip.

That's enough. You will boost his ego through the roof like this.

Seungcheol studies you for a bit before grinning cockily, "Well, if you didn't know, I am trouble baby. Just you being with me might end you up in a mess." Before you can reply, your food is served, that same girl from the booth setting down your plates and looking at Seungcheol for a bit too long with that same stupid smile which he returns. You don't know why but you feel jealous, jealous of whatever these two share, whatever she has with him.

You've lost your mind at this point. You're on a high that is Seungcheol. He has made you forget your morals, made you completely lose your mind. Or maybe you've been too good all your life and seeing him brought out that crazy, thrill seeking part of yourself.

Silently you dig into your food and as Seungcheol said, the food is really good. This is one of the best meatloaf you've ever had and you can't help but moan. Seungcheol watches you with an amused smile before popping a fry in his mouth.

"What's your major?" Seungcheol asks out of the blue.

"Uh- sociology."

"Mmhmm."

You're about to ask him what he studied in college but you assume he probably never went to one so you seal your lips. You wonder what his background is and who his parents are but you don't want to get too personal on the first day. So you ask something else, "How old are you?" He laughs out loud before he deadpans, "Thirty five." "What!" You almost choke.

There's no way he's-

"Why? What did you expect?"

"I... I don't know! A few years older than me? You're kidding right? You don't look thirty five." He has to be bluffing. "And how old would you be?" "You shouldn't ask a woman her age," you try to make a point. "Don't you have any manners?" He smirks,"I don't, sweetheart. To answer your question, I'm twenty eight."

Uh huh.

"Well, I'm twenty one," you mutter under your breath. You don't know if he hears it because he doesn't give any reaction, busy twirling a fry in sauce. The rest of your meal is full of silence as you wonder if your date will end like this; dry and boring. He's awfully silent and seems to be lost in thoughts as he doesn't engage in a conversation. You're about to take your last bite when the silence is broken by him.

"What did you see that night?" He leans over, his elbows resting on the table as he suddenly regards you with a sombre look, his earlier cockiness vanished. His eyes have once again gone dark and his demeanor says he's not being superficial right now. You're caught off guard as you cough loudly, reaching for your glass to take a sip of water. "What?"

"You heard me. What did you see that night? Exactly how much did you see?" He repeats. You're confused. You thought he didn't care about it. He said it didn't matter. So why is he bringing it up now? You've worked hard to push that night in the deepest part of your brain, pretending it didn't happen.

And then suddenly it clicks.

"You!" You point an accusatory finger at him as you catch on to his plan. "You've agreed to go out with me so that you can find out what I saw that night!" Seungcheol groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, just fucking tell me!" He snaps, annoyed that you've found out his little scheme. You scoff, "I thought you said you didn't care? Besides it's not like I'm going to tell the police." He rolls his eyes and leans back into the couch. "Just tell me and let me go."

You're baffled. His actions didn't make any sense and you actually thought he had no other intentions behind dating you but holy shit this sneaky bastard. "You sly little asshole!" You hiss at him. "Call me that once more and you'll regret it." He threatens. You roll your eyes sagging back into your seat, "Whatever." Then an idea hits you. "You know what, I'll tell you exactly how much I saw that night." You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he stares intensely at you, waiting for your next words. "On our third date. When this whole deal is over, I'll tell you. But in return you'll have to keep your promise and take me out on two more dates."

"Oh fucking hell," he groans rubbing his face in frustration. His state makes you smirk and you feel accomplished.

Choi Seungcheol is stressed because of you.

What a day to be alive.

You murmur, "Besides this isn't even a proper date. This was more like an interrogation. But I'll go easy on you and won't make you redo this date." You give him a sweet smile and he sees red. You can literally see fury blaze in his eyes. "Whatever!" He yells and abruptly stands up. "I don't have time for this. Your stupid play date is over. I'm dropping you home."

Before you can reply, he's marching towards the door. You've to admit this wasn't the best date but at least you've trapped Choi Seungcheol.

It has been a good week after your so called date at the diner and you haven't heard from him. You expected him to call or text you since he was gracious enough to ask for your number but he didn't. You now realize it was a mistake to not get his number; you had asked him for his when he took yours but being the prick he is he denied to hand over his number to you. You should have forced him to, you sigh. As you sit in the library the ping of your mobile distracts you from your racing thoughts as you realize you have a message. Picking the device up you tap on the notification. Even though it was from an unknown number, you have no trouble figuring out who it is from. A smile graces your lips as you read the words over again.

I'll pick you up from your house tomorrow evening at six.

That's all it says and that is good enough to send a thrum of excitement throughout your body.

You have not held back in dressing up today and you realize it's been a long time since you've dolled up yourself. A long before the clock strikes 6 you are ready; dressed in a cute pastel top and a matching skirt. You've also went ahead and applied makeup, not too much but just enough to maybe catch his eye. Maybe.

You wonder what he has planned for today.

A text from Seungcheol saying he's here has you flying out of your apartment as fast as your feet can carry your desperate self to see him. He stands in front of your apartment with his convertible, dressed in a white jacket that matched his pants. You take a deep breath before walking towards him, trying to calm all your nerves down.

"You know I expected to hear from you earlier. I've been waiting all week," you voice makes his head turn around to meet your eyes as you are skipping towards him with a teasing smile in your face. "I've been busy," he shrugs coolly, his eyes going over your whole body, from your legs to your face. He doesn't hide that he's taking a good look at you, in fact does it unashamedly.

You wonder if he likes what he sees.

Someone dressed up today," he comments. "Too bad we aren't going to a place where you can show off your pretty clothes." You frown, "Where are we going?" Seungcheol holds open the door, a mischievous smile on his face. "I've decided to grant your wish." With a confused face you get inside the car, the gears in your head running. What does he mean?

"I'm taking you to an underground fighting ring," he says with smirk as he reaches for something behind his seat. He pulls out a large hoodie and tosses it towards you, "Put this on. Otherwise you are going to attract a lot of attention and you don't want that." You gulp, taking the hoodie and putting it on you. You're slightly embarrassed. You were so excited to try this outfit but it's not like you knew he was taking you to a fight club. Hell you would have dressed like a guy if you knew. You shrug on the hoodie and it falls almost to your knees but it's huge and comfy and most importantly it smells like him. There's a hint of cologne, nothing too strong; a subtle, expensive scent that makes you want to take a deeper sniff. You wonder if you can keep this with you.

Stop it, pervert.

Seungcheol's voice pulls you out of your haze, "You can take it off later. Just wear it until we're out of there," he says and brings the engine to life.

Then you actually think about it. Underground fighting ring? Holy shit. You were only kidding when you mentioned it. Admittedly, you're shocked, somewhat horrified. Everyone knows it isn't the best place to be at especially for someone like you who never had such an experience. Seungcheol must have seen your expression because the smile on his face gets bigger, "Why? You not up for it?" His voice is teasing.

He's challenging you.

Oh well.

"Of course I'm up for it," you square your shoulders, keeping your voice cool. "Bring it on."

Seungcheol leads you into a bar and then through a door at the back that leads down to a lot of stairs, reaching a place similar to an underground parking lot. Quietly you follow Seungcheol, staying as close to him as possible, your bodies occasionally touching. He leads you to a pair of double doors and from the other side you can hear men shouting and chanting.

This is it, I guess.

Seungcheol throws one more smile at you before pushing open the doors as you scramble to follow him closely. The sight that greets you something you only see in movies. There's a boxing ring where two people are throwing punches at each other and surrounding them from all sides is a wild, loud and excited crowd. They continue to cheer loudly as the two men in the ring continue to box and you hear their grunts and groans.

Holy shit.

Swallowing your eyes meet Seungcheol's who is regarding you with curiosity. "What do you think?" He has to speak loudly for you to hear over the screaming throng. "Uh... It's loud," you say dumbly as you try to think of a reply. But it's too loud for you to even think properly as you take in your unfamiliar surroundings. You see a tall man approaching towards you and out of reflex you shuffle closer to Seungcheol until you realize it's his friend. The guy from the first night. He and Seungcheol grin at each other, patting their backs as they talk close to each others ears. You gawk at them curiously and realize they must be talking about you because his friend takes curious glances at you occasionally. His friend is tall, really tall and well built but unlike his body his face is sweet and puppy like, almost cute. When he grins his canines pop up just like a puppy and you wonder if all his friends are good looking.

After he's done chatting with his friend Seungcheol pulls you close and says, "This is my friend. Mingyu. Always stay near him, you hear me? Don't stray away unless you wanna get hurt." His eyes are stern as he pins you down with his stare but you have other thoughts running in your head.

"What do you mean? Where are you going?" You yell over the noise.

He just smirks at you and starts taking his jacket off. "About time you see how we do it around here." His tone is cocky as he hands his jacket to you, "Hold this for me. And stay close to him."

Giving a look at Mingyu Seungcheol starts walking away towards a door that you're guessing is the changing room.

He's gonna fight.

"Wait- but-" Mingyu stops you with a hand on your shoulder and offers you a kind smile. "It's fine. Just stay with me." He then ushers you towards the crowd, spotting a place where you can get a good look at the ring. "Do you guys do this often?" You look up at Mingyu. He smiles sheepishly, "Not me. I tried a few times and I always end up beaten to a pulp. But hyung does this often, he's really good."

"Uh huh, I'm sure he is," you smile dryly. "This is your first time watching a fight, no?" "Definitely." He grins, "Watch carefully then. It's really fun."

You have your doubts on how watching people beat each other up can be fun but you don't comment anything, instead chew on your lip anxiously. Seungcheol really didn't have to go this far? What if he gets hurt badly? Is he trying to impress you?

Don't flatter yourself, your subconscious rolls her eyes.

As the loud cheering that had died down ensues again, your train of thoughts are halted as you see Seungcheol in shorts and his hands covered in boxing gloves, step into the ring. You can't help but ogle at his naked torso, his finely defined and chiseled muscles. He has the perfect body, not too bulky, not too lean just the right amount that gives you a hard time taking your eyes off him. He seems to have noticed your gaze because the second your eyes meet, he throws a haughty, knowing smirk at you. Embarrassed you avert your gaze elsewhere.

His opponent is a muscular man who's growling and banging his chest with his fists, a gesture of intimidation, you suppose. You are definitely intimidated and you wonder if Seungcheol can actually win against him.

The fight starts with a whistle and in mere seconds they are on to each other, throwing punches left and right. Your eyes have a hard time keeping up with them and their fast reflexes and your hands fly to your mouth as a punch lands on Seungcheol's face, followed by repeated blows as Seungcheol falls back. There's a moment of silence as he wipes his bottom lip and you realize there's a cut.

He tilts his neck, popping the bones and glaring at the other man before launching himself on top of his opponent. The next moments are a blurry mess, Seungcheol beating the guy repeatedly until he ends up on the floor but he doesn't stop there. Seungcheol ends it with a sharp jab to his spine and you have no doubt the other man has broken bones with the ways he howls in pain. The match comes to an end like that as the people cheer wildly while Seungcheol steps down from the stage. Mingyu grins at you happily as if what you witnessed was just a regular occurrence, something you should be cheerful about. Shaking your head at the situation, you let out a deflated sigh.

Their life is really so different than yours.

Seungcheol seems to be in a very good mood after the fight as he buys you both some sandwiches and drinks from a deli after you both step out of the bar. You both sit down at a park nearby to eat and watch the night sky. "You know, I thought you were gonna lose," you speak after taking a few bites of the sandwich. Seungcheol scoffs, "You underestimate me, sweetheart. I've been doing this for a long time."

"Do you enjoy it?" You ask quietly, focused on peeling the wrapper from your food. You feel Seungcheol's stare on you. "Yes. Why? Are you scared already?"

"No. I was just... curious. Your definition and my definition of fun is totally different." You murmur. "Of course. What did you think? I go to the mall and shop and watch movies with my friends when I'm bored?" His tone is sarcastic. You bite your lip. "No I didn't. It's just...I feels different now that I have experienced it first hand." Seungcheol offers nothing more, taking a sip of his coke and leaning back into the bench. A silence stretches between the both of except the rustling of the wrapper of your food. "How long have you been doing this?" You blurt out. He frowns at you and you don't expect him to answer but he surprises you.

"For a long time."

He doesn't offer anymore and you don't have the heart to prod him for an actual answer. "And how long do you plan on doing this?"

"What?"

"I mean... don't you have any other plans. Like...do you wanna keep doing what you are doing for the rest of your life? Don't you wanna like... settle down maybe?" Your voice is soft as if you are talking to a child. Seungcheol looks annoyed. He doesn't speak for a while as he stares at the ground, a frown etched to his face. You're about to take back your question when he replies, "I really don't think you understand. I've been trying to tell you that my life is completely disparate to yours. So I don't think like you. I don't have plans like you but neither am I expected to follow a certain pattern like you. I can do whatever the fuck I want, ___. So don't look at me like you pity me. I'm the last person here that should be pitied. " His tone is sharp and it makes you feel bad, like a sensation of needles pricking your heart. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry," You whisper, feeling timid as you look down at your lap. He mutters, "Don't go poking your nose in other people's business. Specially people like me."

He's right. You shouldn't have asked that. You are not close enough to ask things like that. After that there is a silence, this time, an awkward one. There's palpable tension in the air and you feel jittery. Should you just ask him to take you home?

It's still early and truth be told, you don't want to leave him just yet. You only have one more date to go and judging by his reaction, he is in no way interested in a relationship. You heave out a long sigh. You knew very well what you were getting into, yet you couldn't stop yourself. Seungcheol is like a poison, the sweetest one, the one that has you addicted and unable to let go, no matter how much it hurts.

This is a fucking mess.

"Let's get going. I have plans," Seungcheol announces, standing up. You want to protest but you feel like you have ruined the mood, so you follow him mutely to his car.

The drive to your house is awfully quiet, to the point you want to scream out of frustration. Seungcheol seems to be lost in his head as he makes no move to talk. It's like you are alone, but you're not and it's worse, the air full of tension. Soon you have reached your house and he stops the car but keeps the engine rolling, indicating his rush. He keeps still and stares ahead while gripping the steering wheel as you step out of the car in silence. "Thanks for dropping me home," you say lamely, your voice meek. You turn around to walk away but his voice stops you in your tracks.

"I promised you three dates and I will keep my word. I expect you to keep yours, ___. I hope you will tell me what I want to hear when we meet next time." His tone is sharp with an edge of threat and you barely get to nod before he drives away.

It's not until you're inside your apartment that you realize you still have his hoodie on. Quickly fishing out your phone you type out a text.

I'm sorry, I forgot to return your hoodie.

After a while, his reply comes.

Keep it.

You watch Katelyn as she fills her lunch tray with food before walking over and taking a seat opposite to you. She looks extra radiant today, which probably has something to do with the way she's dressed; a bright colourful outfit which undoubtedly she put a lot of time into considering. She has a date, with a guy she has been talking to for the last few weeks. It reminds you of your pitiful situation and you sigh, trying to shrug off those thoughts.

It has been a good couple weeks since you last saw Seungcheol and you have not exchanged a word after that night. In the back of your mind you wonder if he is even alive. You want to message him, you really want to because you are going crazy but after how your last date ended, you can't bring yourself to. You are scared, exactly of what, you can't put your finger into.

The entire situation you have put yourself into is fucking scary. They say you become sure of your feelings after three dates but it did not take that much for you. You already are very certain about your feelings for him and how deep they run exactly and you also know that in the end you will be left scarred. He would never be yours. He has probably forgotten about you or decided that it is not worth another date to figure out what you saw that night.

You let a desperate, pitiable sigh.

"I know you are hiding things from me but I understand that you are not ready to talk yet. But I want you to know I am here for you okay?" Katelyn's voice makes you blink your way out of your thoughts. She squeezes your hand tightly and gives you a reassuring smile and you're left feeling guilty.

"I ...I will tell you. Soon. Just give me a bit more time," you whisper. She nods in understanding. A grateful smile touches your lips as her words make you emotional. Then there's a ping from your phone letting you know there's a message. Without giving it much thought you open the device and your eyes go wide.

I'll take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Wear something formal.

You wait outside your apartment for Seungcheol. Your day has passed by in a flurry of excitement and nerves as you carefully picked your outfit and did your hair and makeup. A soft baby pink dress that stopped just above you knees adorns you as your hair rests just above your neck in a loose bun.

You are fiddling with your fingers as you think about how this night is gonna end and wether you will ever see him again when a car screech that grabs your attention.

Seungcheol's convertible has taken a stop in front of you and you see the man getting out the vehicle and take big steps towards you.

You're mesmerized.

Perhaps there is not enough word in this world to describe his looks or perhaps you've simple lost the ability to speak; either way, you just stand and stare, drinking the godly man that stands in front of you. He looks delectable, completely flawless and agonizingly gorgeous in his sharp black suit and pants, with a silk black shirt underneath, the top couple buttons undone that reveals a beautiful porcelain skin. His hairstyle completes the look, parted to one side in a sleek way and showing his forehead and oh god is it sexy. You realize you have a forehead kink, if there is anything as such.

If you weren't in love with him before you are now.

He looks ravishing, and you wonder why it isn't illegal to look this good. It should be because you have completely lost control over yourself. Nothing exists in your world except for him and you feel paralyzed, unable to do anything but drink him in. You wonder if you are even worthy to stand beside him.

"____?" Seungcheol calls you, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. He must have been calling you while you were eye fucking him. "Oh! Um, hi." You're flustered. "You- you look really, really nice." It isn't enough but it's what you can get past your lips. A knowing smirk kisses his lips before he teases, "Well, you look really, really nice too." Motioning you to his car he says, "Shall we? We'll be late for our reservation."

"Yeah, of course," you say, hurrying over to his car, embarasssed at your foolery. Seungcheol must have noticed you ogling him like that. But you don't really care when he looks like that. It is his fault for looking so devilishly handsome and idly you wonder if he did that on purpose. If he's deliberately teasing with, trying to make you the most miserable before letting you go with a slap of reality to your face. Pushing away those plagueing thoughts, you sit up straight and clear your throat as Seungcheol comes to sit beside you and brings the engine to life.

A decently long and quiet (except for the music from the radio) but not quite uncomfortable car ride later, Seungcheol stops in front of a really fancy and expensive looking restaurant just by the sea. You did not except him to take you to a high end restaurant, otherwise you would have put some more effort in your looks.

Feeling slightly out of place you quietly follow Seungcheol into the beautiful European styled building after he hands his keys to a valet. The interior is dripping with polished furnitures and extravagant chandeliers and marble floors as guests dressed elegantly have their dinner. As you look around the place in awe Seungcheol talks to the receptionist who then guides you towards a staircase that leads to a pair of large double doors decorated with gold which then, opens to a large balcony. In the middle of it sits a table with two chairs and an unceremonious gasp escapes your mouth as you realize this is where you will be having dinner.

The man from earlier takes his leave as Seungcheol helps you sit down before taking a seat for himself while you take in everything, overwhelmed with all your surroundings. Why did he put so much effort for a lousy and fake date?

"What do you think?" He asks with a smirk as he rests one of his elbows on the table.

"I'm overwhelmed," you reply quietly, honestly. He chuckles, "Well this place has really good food and a fantastic view so I thought it wouldn't bad for our last date."

Last date.

"It's really beautiful. I don't know why you did this but thank you, really," you murmur, eyes on the satin table cloth with intricate golden lining. Everything about this place is so pretty.

"Well, I decided it would be beneficial for me to extract words from you if you are wooed," his words have a teasing tone to it and his demeanor is completely different from last time, giving you a whiplash but you are not sure if he's fully joking. Before you can say that you are definitely wooed, a waiter appears to take your order and you leave the duty of ordering to Seungcheol since he seems to frequent this place. Prior to his leave, the waiter pours you Seungcheol's champagne of choice and then, you two are alone once more.

Reaching for the flute, you quickly gulp down the champagne to soothe your dry throat and to calm all your nerves.

Over dinner you talk about your uni and your parents back home and the farm they own. While Seungcheol mostly keeps quiet he doesn't ignore you but listens carefully, occasionally passing glances your way or commenting. He does not offer anything about him, which you expected and you don't ask any questions about him either. Instead you try your best to keep his interest in your words despite the lack of it from his side.

After a hearty meal of poached lobsters and wagyu beefs and creamy soups comes dessert; a chocolate orange mousse with spiced fruits and yogurt sorbet. You start eating your dessert in silence, the occasional crashing of waves filling the complete lack of sounds.

This location is truly magnificent and breathtaking, almost having a feel like you're in a fancy resort in a luxurious tropical island. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful place you have ever been, let alone have dinner at and you wonder if you would ever have the chance to visit some place like this had you not met Seungcheol. The man in question, continues eating quietly, seemingly lost in his thoughts. He looks lovely as always, if not more and you try to burn this image in your mind for you to look back at later. You want to ask him so many question, you want to tell him so many things but you're scared. Sacred if you do so this moment will break, scared it will annoy him and end your final date all too early. So you bite your tongue and finish your food as he does and after your plates are cleared away, you are served another expensive champagne as an end to your luxurious dinner.

Even though Seungcheol doesn't say anything, you assume it is time to spill the beans, to say what he has been wanting to hear from the beginning. You have teased him enough and it is time you give him what he deserves. Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth. "Me and Katelyn heard noises from the playground that night so we decided to check. It was pretty dark and we were tipsy but I recognized you and you were... beating someone up. We stayed there and watched until one of us accidentally made some noise. We were scared that you heard us so we ran. That's all that happened."

You have Seungcheol's full attention now as he listens cautiously, his sharp eyes trained on you. Gulping, you clench your hands together underneath the table, waiting for his reaction. There seems to be an eternity of silence as Seungcheol simply stares at you as if he's debating whether your words are true or not. It's torturous, awfully agonizing and when you can't bear it anymore you're about to speak but he beats you to it.

"I didn't kill him." His voice is quiet. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Somewhere in the back of your mind you believed it, you believed he wouldn't be cruel enough to kill someone just like that and as soon as he speaks those words you believe him, without a doubt, without a second of delay.

"I believe you." You whisper, holding his gaze. "That asshole deserved what he got. He shouldn't even be alive but I let him go. He's in a hospital now, if you are wondering." You nod quietly. It's scary how much you believe him, how much you trust him even though he is pretty much a stranger.

There's a moment of silence as you bask in his presence before he speaks, "____, men like me, we aren't the nicest people. But we are needed, the cops need us around. People like me do the dirty works for people like you so y'all don't face troubles. We do things in an unconventional way but that's just who we are. We aren't as bad as the rumours say but we definitely aren't someone you should be with." You open your mouth to protest but his sharp gaze makes you stop. "If you have not understood it yet, let me say it out loud. I am trouble. People like me is always bad news. Whatever we did until now, I hope you forget. That's the best, ____ trust me. I think we both got what we wanted so let's call it a night." Just like that, he stands up, not waiting for your reply.

You gawk at him, baffled as he pays the bill and starts walking away. Tears burn the back of your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them back. The ending that you had expected has taken place but you are having a hard time accepting it. Your subconscious reminds you that you deliberately got yourself into this even though you saw this coming. So there is no one to blame for it but you. Grabbing your purse, you stomp your way out of the restaurant and towards Seungcheol's car.

Seungcheol barely acknowledges you as you both get in the car and he presses the key to the ignition. You are fuming in your seat, his words and the way he dismissed you cutting you deep. His words come to you, I think we both got what we wanted. You want to laugh. How can he possibly think that? Is he really so stupid or is he deliberately ignoring your interest in him? You want to smack his perfect face, curse and scream at him but all you can do is sit still with your arms crossed as steam comes out of your head. Is he really not curious about your feelings? Does he possess none for you? Does these few days with you mean nothing to him? You have so many unanswered questions. Leaning back into your seat, you close your eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

It feels like in the blink of an eye the drive to your place is over as Seungcheol halts his car in front of your apartment. He does not utter a single word, doesn't even spare a glance at you while patiently waiting for you to get out of the car.

Asshole.

You inhale deeply, trying your best to gather yourself together as you take off your seatbelt and turn towards him.

"Seungcheol?" Few seconds pass before he looks at you. Words are stuck in your throat. When your eyes meet his, you become mute, overwhelmed with emotions as your words die in your tongue. He keeps staring at you, not opening his mouth but waiting for you to speak. "Is this goodbye?" Your voice breaks.

"I believe we don't have any reason to see each other. We both got what we wanted," He says without batting an eye. You're left bemused, one step away from landing a slap on his face. How dare he say that?

"Do you really believe that?" Your words come out as an accusation. "I wanted to go out with you because I thought I have feelings for you! And I do! And my feelings have only increased since I first saw you. I want to see you again, Seungcheol. You may have gotten what you wanted but I didn't." Your fades into a whisper as tears burn the back of your eyes.

Seungcheol stays quiet, staring ahead, his brows knitted as if he's annoyed. "I promised you three dates, ____. And I gave you that. It's over. Your feelings? You'll get over them. It's better to be in pain for a while that be with someone like me."

"You can't say that! I get to decide for myself!"

"____," he sighs, rubbing his temples. "I'm a bad man. You should leave while you still have a good image of me. You'll get hurt because of me and I've caused enough pain to enough people. Just...go. Just forget me." You stare at him as frustrated tears roll down your cheeks. He doesn't meet your gaze but turns his head the other way. You are angry, infuriated and heart broken all at a time. Clenching your fists you inhale a shaky breath before reaching for him.

Before you can chicken out, you tilt his face towards you and quickly press your lips against his. Seungcheol seems to be shocked as a small gasp leaves his mouth but you don't let him push you away. Instead one of your hands come to rest on his thigh as he other cups his face to keep his mouth against yours. You kiss him with all you have left, pouring in every bit of passion and love for him as your tongues intertwine. By the time you are both breathless, Seungcheol gently pushes you back and peers into your eyes. "That's all I can give you, ____." He says, his voice the softest you have heard. You are broken into a million pieces and as much as your heart wants to cling to him, you suddenly feel tired, deflated like a popped balloon. Your emotions have drained you out and left nothing and right now, breathing almost seems too painful for you. Taciturnly, you grab your purse and step out the convertible. You hear another door shut behind you but you don't look back as your heavy steps carry you to the entrance of your building. When you are about to enter your apartment, you accumulate all your strength and courage to spare one final glance at him.

Turning around you see Seungcheol standing by his car, hands in his pockets, simply watching you. Even though your eyes are locked on each other, you don't see any emotion in them. He looks like the same expressionless, mysterious man you saw the first day. The man you fell in love with. Taking in his gorgeous features one last time, you bite your lip and turn away, forcing yourself to walk inside your apartment building.

Your chapter with Seungcheol ends here.

Epilogue

A/N : Okay so idk why this fucking app is being like this but it says I reached the maximum of 250 blocks but I thought tum1r didn't have a word limit?? Anyway so I've decided to break it up and put the rest of the fic in another post. Please click epilogue to read that.

Taglist: @koo-18 @shiningstar-byulxx @pcisonedhaos @happyvitamin @yoongischeeksluv @haluim17 @nayam14 @horanghae-gumanhae @cottonsthings @hotcheetosnorter99 @peekabooseoksoon @acapellaanna @amixoferrthang

#seventeen scoups #scoups imagines #scoups fluff #scoups smut #seventeen #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen seungcheol #kpop drabbles #kpop smut

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sparklingchan · 5 years ago

Text

Tipsy Turvy || Choi San(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Choi San

Word count : 5k+

Warnings : Cuss words , alcohol , hangover , mentions of over drinking, not proof read.

Genre : Fluff , a tiny bit of angst , romance , friends to lovers au.

Description : You have a complicated relationship with San , and the alcohol in your system makes it worse ( or better).

Author's Note : So with all honesty , I have NO idea how people behave when drunk so I searched it up and wrote this 90% based on that ( and 10% on my friends’ advice). I hope at least one of y’all get the horrible pun in the title -_-

Please do reblog , like and comment if you like this. My DMs are also open so if you want to gimme a review , feel free.

Enjoy!

The coffee in the cup must have gone cold by now, because the moment you touch it’s surface ,you don't feel the same sting as you did a few minutes ago.

Not that it tasted good anyway. You're almost glad you didn't have to drink it but maybe, right now, you could use a sip or two to spare yourself a few seconds of peace.

"The coffee is wonderful, isn't it? It's my favorite one." The man in front of you - Mike - needs to seriously give you a break, or else there will be blood on the streets. Literally, "I'm glad you like it."

Does he not see the clearly disgusted look on your face ? Or was he so sure you'd like this drink just because he ordered it without even asking you?

"Yeah ,its fine." You sigh , touching your lips to the mouth of the cup and then putting it back down. You're not drinking that already tasteless and now cold coffee. No way.

"So ,y/n, since we're expected to give our parents an answer after this date, I'd like to know about your opinions first . And please be honest. I would hate to upset you." He says , scratching his chin .

Your eyes widen at the unexpected string of words. This is the first time since this stupid date began that he actually asked your opinion on anything.

"Well," you begin, your mind filling up with tons of words that you'd waited patiently to let out , "Marriage is a big decision. At least for me. And this is all too fast. I just hope we have enough time to know each other before our parents set the date."

He nods his head , “ I agree, I agree. Its important . Right."

You furrow your brows. His reaction seems very forced. Like he really didn't agree with you , but for the sake of it , he's agreeing.

"And what kind of qualities do you look for in a man,y/n?" You want to roll your eyes at the question but you pull your lips up in a smile, not quiet touching your eyes but enough to convince him. You wonder why he was trying so hard to save a date that had been going downhill from the moment he sat down in front of you. You guys clearly didn't like each other, and the spark was missing.

A spark you'd only ever felt with one person.

"Its difficult to describe ideal types but yeah,I'd like someone who's compatible with me and loving and well.. obviously respectful." You say. Mike chuckles at your answer , as if amused by it, "I was expecting you to say you wanted someone who's rich and handsome like...me , honestly. But it's alright." You wonder if he actually hears himself because he really sounded like a self absorbed piece of shit right now. And you'd really do anything to escape from this date.

"Well , I guess not. " you reply with a chuckle. In all honesty, you yourself don't know what your ideal type is. It's not about the conditions or requirements that a person fulfills. It's not a job , it's a connection. You can't confine people to certain criterias. It defies the whole purpose of that connection. And even if you did have qualities you looked for in a man , everything would always end up pointing at only one damn person. You push his images away even before they can surface into your mind.

"So anyway, as I was saying before the coffee arrived , my dad bought this really pretty yacht for me last month and it's super amazing to - " and you shut him out completely while he continues blabbering and you quietly sip the disgusting coffee in front of you.

You really want to groan now. Like on his face. Putting emphasis on how draining and boring this whole conversation is for you.

But all you do is smile and nod.

You were going to reject him the moment your parents set you up on a date with a ' nice and charming bachelor '. What side of Mike did they find even remotely nice or charming? You would never know. But one thing is sure now ,you will at least not have to deal with your parents pestering you for marriage after you reject Mike.

The weather is extremely humid today , despite it having rained in the morning so without a doubt , you'd spent your day indoors , reading a book and drinking unhealthy amount of fruit punch.

"Are they still upset ? " your parents should have seen it coming ,really. The rejection was as inevitable as the rising of the sun every morning or the setting of the sun in the evening. Yet , your parents are pretty disappointed at the decision even after three days since that stupid date. You , on the other hand are happy to have gotten rid of Mike - even if it meant your parents being angry.

Your younger brother , Jongho ,sighs into the phone, " What do you think? They really thought you'd finally marry now."

You don't really blame them though. Not at all. That's what they were always taught ,weren't they? Graduate high school, finish college ,get a good job and get married. The full circle.That is all they've every known yet you find yourself upset at the fact that they didn't consider your unwillingness to this marriage ( or any other marriage) at all. You're just barely starting to work ,you cannot throw away all of that to be a good wife and daughter in law. Sure Mike is the son of some rich man who does business with your father, but economical relationships cannot be a basis for a marriage.

"Well, I can't help it . I'm not marrying that asshole at any cost. " you huff , " He is so creepy and weird. Let mom and dad stay pressed. I don't care."

"Is it just because you didn't find Mike interesting or something else?" Jongho asks.

"I guess? " you reply, scratching the back of your head.

"You know , y/n, I understand that you don't want to get married and whatever but we both know there's a solid reason behind it and I am sick of you denying it all the time." Jongho is too honest for your liking. Too brutal , no sugarcoated words. Just the truth.

And the truth stings.

"Shut up." You grumble, fiddling with the book in your hands , legs dangling from the edge of your bed, " I told you not to mention it ever again?"

"Y/n, you love him. Okay? You have loved him for seven years now . It is high time you shoot your shot or else you'll end up with some rich asshole who doesn't give two shits about you!"

He's right,of course he is. His words are not really an opinion or a vague prediction of the future. Those are facts. But hearing him say all that out loud makes your blood turn cold in your body. Fear creeping through every inch of your skin , making it hard to think clearly.

"I don't think it matters if I love him or not. I gave up on him. We haven't spoken much ever since college ended. " you say.

" You didn't give up. You just ran away instead of acknowledging it. There's a difference." Jongho replies , " And for your kind information it's only been six months since college got over. You need to stop talking like it was twenty years ago or something. "

You chuckle at his last phrase, grateful that he's trying to uplift the weirdly tense mood. "I don't think I can do it , Jongho. I want to. I really do but I don't think he likes me back." You admit.

"You're delusional if you think he doesn't like you back, y/n. All the late night car drives, movie dates , eating unhealthy food late into the nights - San loves you too. Obviously he does."

You sigh ,running your fingers over the rough page of the book in your lap. 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' The words read out. The tightening of your chest increases.

"He was just being nice." You mutter.

Jongho sighs loudly from the other side , "Okay , believe what you want . I can't handle both you and mom-dad together, okay? Spare me your bullshit. Bye."

Wow, talk about being a rude, disrespectful child !

You are usually not the one to point fingers or put blame on other people , but you really despised your best friend right now. And you have every right to do so. Your best friend is the main reason why your parents are so desperately trying to get you married and see you settle down and have kids and whatever. Jisoo is the epitome of every good quality all parents desire in a daughter. She's perfect. Even more than that sometimes.

"How's your husband?" Your question doesn't sound very genuine - the words slipping out of your tongue like they were being forced out. But Jisoo seems to let it go.

"He's good , really good. " She replies ,taking a sip from the only can of cola you had left in your fridge. She passes it over to you.

"How lucky ." You mutter , taking a sip of the same drink.

"I know what you're thinking ,y/n. I know your ass is upset about everything that happened with Mike but things take time. Okay? I married early because I wanted to." she says, reading right through you like you were a book she'd read millions of times ,"If you don't want to marry , don't. Stop blaming yourself for not finding good guys." " I wonder if I'll ever find anyone even remotely nice, Jisoo. The only few guys I've been set up on dates with are not my type and well , Mike ... I don't know. We're just not compatible." You complain , " And besides I'm so terrified of marrying a guy I barely know."

Jisoo sighs , "Then marry a guy you've known for a long time."

"Who are you talking about?" You frown. You know exactly who she is talking about but you want to hear her say it. Say his name which you dare not even repeat to yourself when alone.

"Choi San ,of course. The love of your life ,your sun and stars , your sweetheart. " she says , her dreamy eyes widening to exaggerate her point.

You slap her arm hard , almost a little too hard. But you're convinced that she deserves it. "Ow !" She yells ,rubbing the sore area on her arm.

"That name is forbidden in my vicinity." You say.

Okay ,maybe now you are the one who deserves a slap. On the cheek. You couldn't believe that his name still fills your stomach with butterflies and causes your heart to beat so fast that you feel dizzy even though you claim that you're over him.

"No, it's not, y/n. Come on ,dude. You're still not over him. You will never be unless you confess and face the supposed rejection on your own. Only then you'll find it in yourself to seek other guys , unless that's not what you want." She jabs her finger on your shoulder softly , "That, or you can marry San himself. It's very simple ,really."

Now that she put it that way ,it sounds even more complicated and it sends your mind to a voyage into the sea of memories that you rarely even acknowledged anymore( or at least ,you tried to).

San's pretty eyes and alluring smile , the soft hold of his hand on your arm as you run to the movie halls just five minutes before it closes , the warmth of his hugs that you so dearly loved , his silky black hair that you've wanted to touch on so many occasions and the day you were sure he had leaned in to kiss you but your annoying brother decided to call just at that exact moment. You almost wish you could go back to your university graduation day , and wait a little longer for him after the event got over and tell him that he meant the world to you. More than he could ever imagine. You really wish you had waited that day.

"Jongho has this stupid theory that he likes me too. He's making me even more confused. " you say.

"At least Jongho has more brain cells than you. That kid deserves an award or something." Jisoo replies , chuckling.

"He's not a kid. He's just a year younger than me and you." You deadpan. Great, your best friend and brother are now on the same team.

She rolls her eyes , "Yeah , you are a kid too. Only a kid acts so naive and stupid when everything they've ever wanted is right there in front of them. Hell, even a kid would realise that San loves you !"

Jisoo talks a lot , but her words are never empty or vague. She says whatever she wants to and has to. And she is always able to make a point. But you're a dumb bitch who likes to pretend she's still not in love with her childhood sweetheart and is looking for love somewhere else.

"Anyway, can we go for a drink?"

"Glad you finally asked." Jisoo grabs your arm and drags you out of the house.

Your favorite bar in the entire world has to be the one you've been going to since you were in high school. From your first time drinking to vomiting in its toilet after having way too many vodka shots , from dancing with your friends to crying alone in a corner , that place has seen it all.

Coincidentally( not really), its Jisoo's favorite bar too.

"Okay, y/n. I think you should stop now. That's enough."

Coincidentally also ,you happen to not have a good alcohol tolerance yet an endearing desire to drown your sorrows in those glasses.

"No, I'm not even properly drunk." You whine ,your words only barely making sense to Jisoo. She grabs the glass away from you.

"Come on , let's take you home. " she tries to pull you from your seat , "Can't believe I thought it was a good idea to drink on a weekday."

"No, no, Jisoo. " you resist , pushing her away. " I want to..stay. here. I like it here. It's so warm and cozy . If I go home, I'll cry. I hate home. It's so ugly. Ew. This place is so pretty ."

Your vision is so blurry that your brain can't even form clear images anymore. You see Jisoo's form after squinting hard enough.

"You won't cry. I'll take care of you, y/n. Come on." Jisoo is so insistent you have to hold yourself back from punching her. Her lucky ass would never understand how much in pain your heart is in. And how much the alcohol helps in forgetting all that even just for a few minutes.

"You go home. I'll stay. I'll stay here for as long as I can. Away from all you blood suckers." You slur. And then giggle for no apparent reason.

Jisoo heaves a sigh ,sitting beside you. "Are you going to come with me or do I have to call San to pick you up?"

That was a threat. Jisoo always uses the same one and somehow, it always seems to work. Not today though.

"Hah! Joke's on you ! He doesn't care about me." You point at her face , giggling again.

San? Taking care of you? Funniest joke of the year.

"He does ,y/n. You know he does. What are you being like this?" She asks , rubbing your hand comfortingly. "I see the way he looks at you."

"He probably has a girlfriend already. He always posts romantic shit on Instagram. " you say ,resting your chin on your arm.

"He doesn't have one. I know he doesn't. He probably posts all that for you." She says.

You want to believe her but your brain feels fuzzy and foggy now. Like the sky on winter mornings.

"I want to see San, Jisoo. I miss him. I miss him so much. " you keep muttering under your breath , "Take me to him. I miss him."

Jisoo stares at you - wide eyed and slightly annoyed. Your low alcohol tolerance will get you into serious trouble one day.

"We can see him tomorrow. Let's go home now. Now." She pulls your arm again.

You push her off , "I said I want to see San ! Right now! Take me to him!"

You have never yelled at anyone while in a drunken state before so the sudden increased volume of your voice scares Jisoo. She let's go of your arm.

"Okay, will you come home after meeting San?" Jisoo asks ,taking her phone out to call a cab.

"Yes. No. Depends. I never want to be away from him." You say. "Take me to him , please. I haven't seen him in months. Years. I don't remember how long. Do you think he'll recognize me?"

Shaking her head , Jisoo makes a mental note to never take you out for drinking again.

San lives a few minutes away from your own apartment, but with traffic sometimes it takes almost an hour to reach his apartment.

Today must have been your lucky day because the traffic was almost negligible. Although you don't remember the journey to his house , you do remember his familiar voice greeting you and Jisoo like he had almost expected you both to arrive at his door this late at night.

"She was throwing a tantrum that she wanted to see you. So I brought her here. I hope it's not a problem. " Jisoo says in her sweet voice that she uses on everyone but you and her husband. You scowl.

"Hey, I wasn't throwing a tantrum! " You hit her arm again , but she puts on the fakest smile when San looks at the both of you with a confused face.

"And she's not very sober right now." Jisoo admits ,sighing. San presses his lips in line , observing you as play with the hem of your tshirt and your eyes are focused on his face. You never had so much confidence in a sober state. He knows this because he's seen you like this a million times before and hopefully, if all goes well tonight , he might see this state in the future too.

His stomach does a back flip when you stick out your bottom lip in a cute little pout.

"It's okay. She can stay the night here. I believe you have something important to tell me ,y /n?" San asks, titling his head.

You nod , beaming with happiness. Your eyes never leave his perfect face and his beautiful black hair which he decided to tie in a small ponytail tonight and his toned arms and his breathtakingly sweet dimples as he leads you inside, bidding goodbye to your bestfriend. Jisoo must be very relieved right now ,you think.

"Do you need a glass of water ,y/n?" San asks you , as he takes you gently by the arm to his bedroom. His alert eyes are always on your steps ,making sure you do not trip on anything.

"No. " you giggle. You're so happy to be with him alone at last that you can barely contain it . "I missed you ,San."

He laughs at your words ,shaking his head in disbelief as he makes you sit on his warm ,fluffy bed.

You've always wanted to sit there.

"Waoowww , this bed is so soft. " you swing your legs up and down with a big grin on your face , "I want to sleep on this bed. Oh my god ,awww."

San sees you lean down against the headboard and laugh at the ceiling, pointing out peculiar patterns . You look very content right now ,he notices. Your flushed cheeks , big , curious eyes , messy hair , yet he thinks you look beautiful like this - raw and natural and pretty.

"San! Sit with me, come here." You say , patting the empty space beside you.

San obliges without a question. He pushes you gently to the other side of the bed , himself settling beside you , careful not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.

"What it is that you wanted to tell me ?" San questions, his fingers reaching upto your forehead to remove the strands of hair that cover your eyes.

"Promise me you won't be mad. " You hum into his touch ,wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his body and snuggle into his chest. But even with alcohol in your system ,you know better than to do that.

"I promise." He replies with a toothy grin. His head leans on the headboard beside yours , his beautiful brown eyes drilling into yours ,making your knees go weak and heart flutter. And if it were possible to replace all blood from your body with physical adoration for Choi San ,you would have done it already. "Pinky promise?" You ask again ,lifting your right pinky up in front of his face.

Sighing , he connects his pinky to yours then pressing your thumbs together, "Pinky promise."

You take a deep breath then as naturally as ever ,the words you've always wanted to say roll out of your mouth , "I like you. "

San's breathing gets stuck in his throat , his whole being as if swallowed into a black hole for a few seconds. He stares at you like you were suddenly someone he'd never seen , never heard of before. Like you were a stranger that caught his eye in the mall. Like a gemstone he'd found while digging the ground. Like a precious falling star on a cloudy night.

"I-I mean we have known each other for sometime now. It's normal that you like me. As a friend." He stammers.

You roll your eyes , " I did not mean as a friend ,you idiot. I meant I like you as a man. You're so stupid, gosh." You punch his arm.

His heart skips a beat. He'd always known deep down his heart that this confession would happen one day or the other - but he had always hoped it would be him to say it first ,not you. His ego is a teeny tiny bit hurt.

"I know you don't like me , " you whine , your excited tone now suddenly switching into a sad one , " I know you won't date me."

San frowns at this new melancholic side of yours.

"Why would you think that?" He asks.

"I just know ,okay?" You say ,tears filling your eyes , " And that's why I agreed to an arranged marriage."

"You must have met someone nice then?" He takes his hand in yours.

Jongho was right - you love him. So much that it hurts to look at him ,knowing that one day you'll have to marry a man who isn't him. It hurts like someone is pressing a hot metal rod onto your skin.

You start sobbing.

"No! Of course not ! I don't want anyone but you! " You yell , a little too loud , " But my parents are still insistent about it. How do I tell them that I can't marry anyone else because I'm so in love with you?"

That's another new piece of information for San. But this one makes his heart drop into the deepest pits of his stomach , making him go numb for a few seconds. You were almost taken away from him, just because he'd always put your relationship in a complicated situation. You had almost held someone else's hand on the alter. You had almost ended up in someone else's arms.

The image of you with another man nauseates him and he decides to stop being a coward . Right now ,right at this moment .

"I like you ,too, you idiot." He says , not quite meeting your teary eyes." Don't go find anyone else. I'm here. I really am ,y/n."

His sincere voice washes over you like the first showers of monsoon - refreshing and enchanting. You feel like melting into a puddle under his gaze.

"I wasn't planning on anyway. " You sniff and rub your tears away. He leans in closer to your face , rubbing your cheekbones with the pad of his thumb. And you , being the shameless person you are , stare at his kissable, pink lips. If you lean in a little more , they'd touch and you could finally kiss him. You really want to . Would he mind ?

He presses a soft kiss on your forehead , pulling you into his warm embrace.

"I want to go to sleep and wake up like this every morning." You mumble into his chest , your hand playing with the hem of his t-shirt. "We will. I promise." he replies. The thought itself makes him feel warm inside , "I'll talk to your parents about the arranged marriage thing. They love me more than they would any other guy out there."

Your parents in fact do love San. Whenever they met him , they'd be filled with praises for him. Although a little jealous , you could easily see why San was so easy to like.

"You smell so nice." You say abruptly , drowsiness slowly taking over you , your eye lids getting heavier by the minute.

San's chest vibrates as his laugh fills the room , "Thank you, y/n."

"Will you be here when I wake up? You aren't going to run off, right? " You are just spewing out random sentences at this point but he doesn't complain either way. He likes this honest and vulnerable side of you.

"I'll be right here. Don't worry. " he whispers ,running his fingers through your hair , "But I'm pretty sure you won't remember anything tomorrow ."

You laugh, a big hearty laugh as you finally find enough courage to lightly wrap your arm around his torso. "I'll remember, San . I never forget."

San rubs your head soothingly , smiling to himself, knowing that even if you forget about it in the morning , he'll really be there to remind you of it. He'll be there by your side, as he always has been.

Every hangover is like a cycle that includes pain , regret and a promise to never drink so much again yet you somehow always seem to be struggling with the last one.

And the inevitable headache that follows makes you feel like someone had thrusted millions of knives in your head.

It hurt. Badly.

You stir in your position ,groaning at your throbbing head.

"Woah , good morning , sleepy head." San purrs into your ears , his early morning voice sending chills down your spine.

Wait. San? Choi San? With you in his arms? On a bed?

You sit up at the speed of a lightning bolt , breaking away from his warm embrace and crawling to the farthest corner of the bed. You look around the room , your heartbeat in your throat , taking in the unfamiliar surroundings that reminded you of what you might have done while in a drunken state.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Your eyes scan San, his sleepy face pressed to the pillow and his lips curved in a smile. His white t-shirt hangs loose from his shoulder, exposing the skin near his collarbone and his black, messy hair covering half of his face.

And even in panic mode , your first thought is that he looks ethereal with that early morning glow. Is this what being whipped really means?

"Y/n, don't tell me you forgot what happened last night. " he says ,visibly annoyed. He forces himself up in a sitting position as he runs his fingers through his messy hair.

You look away from him , adrenaline rushing through your veins as you try to recall last night's episode. Surely ,you didn't sleep with him since both of you are fully clothed and you didn't feel sore anywhere. Thankfully.

"Y/n? " he calls you again but you don't reply because your brain is way too occupied at the moment.

You remember the sound of a very weird combination of words leaving your mouth last night and an even weirder combination of words leaving his. And that's when it hits you - you had confessed to him. Full on movie style. All those years of daydreaming and trying to keep everything a secret gone into vain , your heart placed naked in front of him.

"Oh fucking hell." You hold your head in between your hands ,closing your eyes.

Maybe this was all a dream and if you focused hard enough ,you'd wake up in your bed , alone and yearning for the man supposedly in front of you. But that would still be better than this.

"Y/n, it's alright. You don't have to be embarrassed. " San says, inching closer to you.

You sigh. It's not a dream and you have to face him now.

"I-I'm sorry for whatever I said last night. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable at all. I don't know what had gotten into me." You say, rubbing your forehead.

By now , San is kneeling right in front of you, his galaxy filled eyes never leaving yours.

"I should be sorry , you idiot." He says , gently tapping your forehead ," if I wasn't such a coward and had confessed to you earlier , everything would have been different now. But better late than never , right?"

You gulp hard.

Now is the time to wake up , y/n, I'm going to be super pissed if this turns out to be a dream, you wonder to yourself.

"So..what you're saying is - "

"I like you , yes. Not as a friend , not as a classmate. I like you as a woman and if you agree to this ," San leans in dangerously closer , "Then I'll like you as a girlfriend, too."

You didn't need time to agree to this. You didn't need a second thought. You only need a small tug at your heartstring , which happened everytime you see his eyes focused on you and only you.

"Yes." You say.

His face breaks into a massive grin as he wraps his arms around you , with yours around his torso. You can feel the fast beating of his heart against your cheek as you snuggle into his chest .

"Thank you. Thank you so much." He whispers into your hair. Your cheeks are burning red by now but it's alright. It's a good type of burning. You can come to like it in the near future.

You don't know how long it is before he finally decides to pull away , much to your dismay.

"I'm going to make breakfast . Are pancakes okay with you?" He says , his arms by his side but his body still close to yours.

"Yeah. Obviously. " You loved his pancakes, as a matter of fact. Once, Jongho had even forced you to confess to San during your college years just so he could eat those delicious pancakes whenever he wanted to.

"Okay. You can go freshen up in the bathroom by then." He then unexpectedly takes your face in his hands , inching closer to yours with every passing second, " Don't miss me too much though."

You pout, playing along , " I already do."

And just like that , he presses his soft , luscious lips to yours, enveloping them in a quick kiss.

"Bye." And just like that too , he runs away into the kitchen , avoiding confronting what had just happened while you are left frozen and shocked and petrified and all synonyms of those words in the English dictionary.

But you hear him hum his favourite song softly from the kitchen and your shoulders relax.

Relax , y/n , you tell yourself , it's just San and he is your boyfriend now.

162 notes · View notes

shesawriter39049 · 5 years ago

Text

|Got Me Loosin All My Cool| M|

Pairings: Jungkook X Reader | Jimin X Reader( Smut) FT- Side Tae & Yoongi

Note: Kook is in 80% of this but he’s “new” to the dynamic...so the smut is with Jimin and the OC...not Kookie!

About- Jimin and yourself take Jungkook shopping for a new suit to wear to the “Spectrum” launch party! OH, and Jimin fucks you in the backseat of your truck in the parking garage of the mall…..

OR: You know Kookie still in that “Broke college grad” phase only being with the company barley a month, and you don’t want him to feel self-conscious at the event! You’ve also been too busy to really check in with him to see how he’s adjusting! So, you thought something like this, in a more laxed atmosphere, would be a good solution! Oh and Jimin, honestly he’s just nosey as fuck and inched himself along, like nobody really invited him he invited his damn self! Also Jungook can’t underatand why the fuck your all so damn attractive...like...why!?

Jungkook’s a sweetheart and lowkey confused and whipped for everybody

Tae’s kinda being a spoiled asshole

Yoongi’s over it!

Jimin’s being a brat, he’s not use to having to “Behave” around others, espeically while your wearing “that” dress.....

-Song Reference- COOL- Dua lipa

WC: 6K

WARNINGS: Semi-public sex/Top OC/Power bottom Jimin/ Spit play/ Cum play/ Fingering (F receiving) Cockrings/Lube (yes ppl actually use that IRL )Dirty talk/ biting, finger sucking

FINAL NOTE: This little excerpt is the prequel to the next full-length one-shot “All Eyes On Me” which is Hoseoks official ‘Intro” if you will. The full Summary for that can be found in the Masterlist which is linked below! Also if you’re new here..this is a stand-alone one-shot within my OT7Poly AU called “7 Deep” Short version: Your husband Namjoon and yourself run a successful Adult Film Entertainment Company called “Onyx” with your 5 best friends from college who you also happen to be in an open relationship with!

(Sneak peek)

~~~~~~

ONXY ENTERTAINEMENT 10:45 AM

Jungkook’s happy I guess almost surprisingly so, I mean yeah Yoongi and yourself seemed cool in the interview, and when he did is work interview the vibe was chill. But let’s get real, we all know shit always seems better than it actually is in the interviews!

For one he honestly wasn’t expecting to be given such free reign already which is also why he’s happy as hell he didn’t listen to his roommate’s Mark and Ten and lie on his resume. Granted, everything still had to go through Yoongi first but he wasn’t just... I don’t know editing thumbnails like he thought he was actually doing real work. He’s been here barely a month and he already has reels he can add to his portfolio! Learning new tips and tricks, believe it or not, even through his internships he’s learned that some people are stingy when it comes to sharing knowledge. Yoongi however was far from that, thankfully he was well aware that just because you teach someone your “secrets” doesn’t mean you’re essentially replacing yourself! What makes you good at your job isn’t just how it’s done its how you do it!

If only Kookie could stop internally fangirling over Yoongi his life would be a little easier! He’d seen hundreds of your companies films before and being the production major he is..of course, he’d watch it the first time to jack off..then the second time he’d find himself just as if not even more turned on for the production quality. That’s something Onyx is always praised for..”Aesthetically pleasing porn”. Every morning, Yoongi would sit him down and show him something new and for the first time he finally understands what people mean when they say that someones mind is..attractive! Not Yoongi himself though, because that’s his boss and that would be weird but like his brain, ya know? Yoongi’s brian is sexy in a broboss way...I don’t know just go with it!

Anyway, Kook’s current project was actually one of his favorites so far because it was forcing him to actually challenge himself! This was something actually requested by Hoseok, who he learned was 26, the head of marketing, always bouncing around like he’s had 6 expresso shots and somehow manages to make streetwear look professional…. But anyway the task is creating trailers for films that are pc enough to not be blocked on platforms like IG but spicy enough to get ppl to wanna watch the full thing. Making a climax without the actual climax if you know what I mean. So he’d have to sit there and watch the films, try not to get hard and wanna jack off while watching said films...then take notes and screencaps of the best moments and compile them together without showing “too much”. He’s never been so thankful that he could wear sweatpants to work….because…..yeah it was hard..literally and figuratively hard...but like I said he’s happy and can pay his bills so that’s cool too!

Don’t get me wrong he still feels a little out of place at times and surprisingly enough not for the reason he expected! Two months shy of his 21st bday he assumed he’d feel a type of way because he’s the youngest but that’s not the case! Hell, they went to Nobu for lunch last week and Jin actually slid him his drunk so he wasn’t the only one not drinking! Flashing him a cheeky little wink and whispering “Don’t tell mom” in reference to you once Kook looked back at him like a deer in headlights! It seems as though they care more about his talent than his age which is the way it should be because he knows he’s good at what he dose!

However, Onyx is kinda like those offices you see on TV, the kind he never thought where real, behind closed doors the environment is far from pc! It’s not a normal morning unless somebodies cursing out there computers! This morning he swore Taehyung told Jimin he had a shrimp dick…… There’s “that’s what she said” jokes being thrown out left and right, people cracking jokes on one another. And it’s not that he feels uncomfortable by any means again he’s a 20 y/o kid from LA it’s just ...he’s new...ya know? So he doesn’t know if he’s “allowed” to do that! So in the meantime, he just spends his days laughing until his chest hurts!

But besides that everybody’s chill , he’s still trying to learn people, regardless of how laxed the office is everybody’s busy as all hell especially Namjoon and yourself! The two of you are actually his biggest mystery, he’s never thought of marriage being something that he’d want. He’s always heard that people change, and shit gets boring, but even in a work environment that’s far from the vibe he gets from the two of you! You actually make marriage seem exciting, worth it, like a gift, not a task…..

Something else that he can’t truly wrap his head around is that your his boss, like legitimately his boss! Somebody that looks like you,I mean fuck your not even 30, you sway around the office in your little dresses and designer heels! Always dolled up hell sometimes he questions if he’s the one in some upscale porno! Actually, not just you all of you why the fuck are all of you so effortlessly attractive and put together?! To make it even worse you all know your shit too! Two days ago for example Kook went to Yoongi to ask if there was a certain way he wanted the ending credits to come into frame, and instead of Yoongi responding you did! Using terminology that had him ready to run home and pull out his “Intro to production” text box! Shit don’t make any Goodman sense...even Yoongi sitting in his office looking like he could be in one of the films he’s editing and no, god no why is he thinking this about his higher-ups?! No, no, nope try again Jeon!

However, now that we’re on this topic, there is one person that he can’t quite wrap his head around...I mean yeah he’s nice but he just seems more reserved around Jungkook than everyone else. Which is odd considering he’s the one Kook meet first, he’s actually the one that encouraged him to even submit his resume, to begin with! What makes it even odder is Yoongi and yourself actually told him that Tae was the most outgoing...it’s not that Jungkook nessercally thinks Tae dislikes him it’s just ...I don’t know, I don’t know…I guess he was just...warmer when the two of them met at Starbucks then he is now that they actually work together!

...And I guess that’s why he almost shit himself when his phone rang and the incoming name rang though as….”Taehyung Kim”...he kinda hoped he pocket dialed him and would just hand up! But wait, I guess you can’t really do that from a landline can you?? Fuckkkkkk

“I know technologies come a long way Kook, but phones don’t answer themselves ya know…” Eyes fluttering over to see Yoongi smirking at him, tone blatantly amused as he flipped through a file he had in his hands.It’s like he could sense how nervous he is too “Don’t worry about Tae, he’s more bark than he is bite, he’s literally a puppy dressed in Gucci…” Flicking his chin in the direction of the phone with a reassuring smile.

With a timid nod and shaky fingers Jungkook picks up the call on the final ring “H-hello??”

“Jungkook? Can you come to my office in the next 5 or so minutes?” His tone wasn’t rude by any means but it also wasn’t the most inviting. Eyes fluttering overly timidly in Yoongis direction because he knew Tae was loud enough that the elder could hear and he smiled fondly, nodding in approval. Arms crossed firm against his chest, head cocked to the side, eyes squinting slightly from under his black baseball cap, as if he was now purposely trying to hear the conversation.

“Umm, yeah, yeah of course…” God, why does he sound like he’s still going through puberty right now!? Voice fluttering ina and out of an octave!

“Great!”

Tae just hangs up, no goodbye ...promoting Yoongi to roll his eyes, with an exasperated sigh...Jungkook just sits there for a moment, not too sure what to do!

“You’re free to go, Seok dosen’t need these until Friday and your deifiently far enough along, a little time away from your desk wont hurt! Oh, just save your stuff first though! The systems moving slow as fuck and I’m about ready to break my damn computer so I’ll probably do a system reboot while you’re gone!”

Jungkook nods timidly, swallowing so hard he’s sure Yoongi heard it, fingers scattering to do as Yoongis instructed, he literally feels like he’s going to throw up! Why does Tae make him so nervous? I mean no offense but Tae isn’t even his boss why is he more freaked out of Taehyung than is actual boss!

He hears a heavy sigh fall from behind him, as Yoongi invites himself to take a seat, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder ‘First off, you’re doing fucking great, and I mean that, so step back...and breath...” Squeezing his shoulder slightly, tone calm yet stable enough to ground the younger!

“Second, I’m ordering lunch from that coney up the street, Hyungs treat” He watches Jungkook go to open his mouth in protest and Yoongi just groans, loud and obnoxious, eyes fluttering to the back of his head more times than he can count!

“Don’t even try and give me that “Your not hungry bullshit” Eyes narrowing in the youngers direction challangingly “So let’s try this again, what do you want? And yes Tae can wait I already texted him and told him so you’re fine! Now go to google and pull up Leo’s menu and lets order lu-”

“Yonngggggiiiii!!!’ Whines through the studio, which only promps the man in question to slowly sink into his chair as if he was trying to make himself dissapear! And before Jungkook can even make heads or tails as to what’s happening...a pair of skin-tight leather pants, a florial silk shirt, that was sitting so low it mideswell not even be buttoned, flashy shades and windswept pastel pink hair comes strutting in... Looking like something straight out of Vouge so again he asks why the fuck does everybody look like this!?

Not even botherng to ask if he’s interupted anything, just flinging his arms around the production manager’s neck, propping his chin on top of his head,

“I need like...20 headshots edited...in the next half hour” Jungkook watched Yoongi go completely ridgit a scowl on his face as he tried to pull away but the casting manager only held on tigher “...and before you kill me even though I drunk some of it this Amerciano is for you soooo, I feel like I’ve made it worth or while, please and thank you! ” Smiling so big his eyes dispered into his face it took everything in him not to coo and swoon all at the same damn time!

Jimin fucking Park......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Heyyyyyyyy,

That’s all she wrote for now, don’t know the post date yet, I’ve written up wo when they actually go to the mall so it’s like halfway done.....

MASTERLIST FOR THIS AU IS DOWN BELOW, I’M GLAD PEOPLE ARE ENYOING THIS “UNIVERSE”!

7 DEEP

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jeon jungkook #park jimin #jimin au #bts #bts au #bts smut #yoongi #yoongi au #bts poly #bts poly au #kpop #kpop smut kpop au

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solastia · 5 years ago

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I’m Fine | 1

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Summary: I'm fine. That's what he's been telling everyone the past two years since he and his soulmate parted ways.

Genre & Warnings: Soulmate au. Angst. Yoongi is pretty self-destructive at first, so be aware of that. There will be lots of destructive thoughts, drinking, fighting, making drunken mistakes (hint). And I know while you read it you won’t believe me, but this does have a good ending.

A/N: Yes, I have given up trying to make this a one shot. Yoongi wouldn’t cooperate with me, so now this is a series. I’ll try to make it a short series, but it was just too complicated for a one shot. Part of the Love Yourself anniversary collab. Be sure to check out the other authors that participated too!

For those that are familiar with the picture in the banner and are wondering where his the open knee went, no I did not suddenly become a puritan. Yoongi’s knee got flagged so I had to color it in

@sweet-honey-boy is the artistic genius behind the pretty banner

I’m fine.

Such a common phrase. Meaningless these days, really. Just a couple of words thrown together so you’d have something to respond with when someone else throws out the equally meaningless greeting of “How are you?”

They don’t really care how you are, they just want to seem like they do. They’ve already zoned out and have their planned response of “Good” ready and waiting.

“I’m fine.”

He mumbled the phrase, shaking the proffered hand of the bride’s cousin as they all waited their turn to go into the room and greet her. It was the same phrase he’d repeated at least twenty times today alone as old friends and family of the bride asked him how he was with pity shining in their eyes.

The same phrase he’d been using for two whole years since his soulmate broke up with him and moved on with her life.

Yoongi could still remember the first time he’d learned about soulmates. It had been in the second week of his kindergarten class when one of the kids next to him started giggling as his arm slowly began to be filled with doodles. Hearts, smiley faces, and stars soon lined the boy's arm from elbow to wrist. The teacher then decided to use all the kid’s collective excitement to explain about soulmates.

Apparently, there were many different types of soulmates. There were the ones that could write on their skin, like their fellow classmate. There were some that could speak to each other in their heads. Some that had timers on their wrist marking down how long until they met their match. And those were only some of the many ways that their world had that all led to the same idea - finding your soulmate. The person meant to be that one perfect person for you.

Yoongi had gone home that very night and tried to figure out what his type was. He wrote “Hello, my name is Min Yoongi” on his arm, along with a little doodle of Kumamon. Nothing happened. He went to the bathroom and tore off his uniform, searching his skin for any sort of marker or timer, maybe even a tattoo or a bruise that he couldn’t remember getting. His skin remained unblemished beyond a couple of moles.

Over the next few years, he’d secretly researched and experimented with every soulmate type he could find. He never saw any strings, heard any voices or songs, felt anything out of the ordinary. At times he felt a flicker of fear over the stray thought that maybe he didn’t have one. But that couldn’t be right. Everyone had one, right?

When his father divorced his mom- who was his soulmate - and left them both for another woman, that was his first lesson that maybe soulmates weren’t all they were cracked up to be anyway.

By the time Yoongi hit college, he already felt like he’d lived three lifetimes. He was now broken and bitter by life, having spent most of his youth working to care for himself and his heartbroken mom. She’d never recovered after his father left. Instead, she became a hollow shell of the loving woman she’d once been, content to sit at home and do the bare minimum to stay alive, mourning her piece of shit “soulmate” that never even bothered to check up on his own son. He had to force her to eat and sleep, to go outside and get some air and sun. He often ran home from school terrified he’d find her dead, but she kept going thanks to him. There were many times over those years that Yoongi had fought not to give up and do something stupid himself.

Sometimes she’d meet someone during her rare times out alone that would bring a flicker of life back to her eyes, but they usually turned out to be assholes that would pick fights with Yoongi and try to control his vulnerable mother. He was quick to run them off. Yoongi took on any job he could to keep them both fed and housed, even if the rooftop apartment that they’d been forced to move to was crumbling.

Yoongi hadn’t even planned to go to college, as it had seemed such a far off dream for someone like him. He already worked three jobs just to stay alive; where would he get the money to go to college too? Then his father passed away - some drunk driver, according to his latest paramour - and left Yoongi with more money than he’d ever seen before. Apparently, the old prick had been doing quite well for himself while Yoongi and his mom had been forced to live in squalor.

So, Yoongi being the practical soul he was, decided that instead of spending it all at once and buying some huge lavish home and three cars he would instead invest in going to college and getting a great job so that he’d never have to be poor or dependant on anyone else ever again. He got his mom set up in a nicer apartment with a caregiver and saved everything else, packing up to go live life for himself for a change.

One thing he’d forgotten about college is that there were people everyfuckingwhere. A whole new group of people curious about his soulmate, where was his soulmate, what was his marker. He’d long ago determined that either his soulmate was dead or the fates had decided his life wasn’t shit enough so they’d not give him one just for shits and giggles.

So, to shut everyone else up, he decided to show them exactly what he thought of the soulmate system and the belief that you should save yourself for them. He slept around with anyone willing. Didn’t give a fuck if they were taken or not. If they had a soulmate or not. What they were, what they were majoring in, even their fucking names - he didn’t care.

And with the amount of soulmated people he’d had in and under him, it just further proved his point that soulmates were a shit concept.

So he pushed the thought of his nonexistent soulmate from his mind, instead focusing his days on getting the best grades he could to ensure the highest paying job, and his nights on fucking, fighting and drinking to his heart's content.

As usual, Yoongi’s life was about to be flipped upside down. And it was all Jackson Wang and his stupid party’s fault.

While he wasn’t a fan of frat boys themselves, Yoongi had to admit that the bastards threw the best parties. Jackson Wang was one of the few frat guys he could tolerate because the guy was too nice to hate, so when the party was at his place, Yoongi was a frequent visitor. The place was packed tonight, and while he didn’t like the crowd, he certainly enjoyed having a nice selection to choose from for his evening entertainment.

Yoongi leaned against the kitchen counter as he sipped his whiskey. It was a shit brand and a shit year, but was still a rare treat at one of these things that usually served the cheapest beer and fruity crap meant to entice girls into drinking more. Yoongi guessed that his roommate had talked to Jackson about grabbing some to keep Yoongi happy. He appreciated the attempt.

He hadn’t been planning on going to this party since he still had a report to finish, but his roommate Namjoon claimed he needed the backup. He was convinced one of the members of this frat was his soulmate. His soulmate marker was a birthday, but he claimed he felt funny every time he looked at him. Instead of saying anything to the guy, Yoongi deduced that Namjoon’s plan was to stare at him creepily from across the room.

“Yoongi hyung, he’s so pretty. Like, super pretty. Don’t you think he’s pretty?” Yoongi guessed he was supposed to be included in the conversation since his name was used, but it sounded more like his friend was thinking out loud.

“Yeah, he’s not bad. You should go tell him you think he’s pretty. He looks like the type that would appreciate it.”

“I can’t,” Namjoon whispered.

“You can. I believe in you,” Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“No, I mean I really can’t. My feet won’t move.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Fine. Stay here.”

“Wait! Yoongi, don’t...”

Yoongi set his cup on the counter and ignored Namjoon’s protests as he strode purposefully into the living room. When he was in front of his target - a pretty man nearly as tall as Namjoon with pillow lips and an eternally amused expression - he sighed wearily.

“Look. You see that guy trying to hide by the kitchen counter? That’s Namjoon, my roommate. He’s super fucking smart, but also kind of stupid. He’s also kinda like a big ass rottweiler that thinks he’s a lap dog. He thinks you’re his soulmate, but he’s the type that would rather pine from afar for the rest of his life rather than face rejection, so can I ask what your marker is? I realize that’s personal and you can tell me to fuck off.”

The man’s face went from confusion to amusement and finally settled on something that he was sure a few romantic poets would fight to the death to describe.

“It’s a birthday. The twelfth of September.”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah, that’s him. Go get him. Just remember that’s he’s a lot more sensitive than he lets on. And, you know, the best friend speech. You hurt him I’ll...I dunno. Do something.”

“Thanks. I’m Seokjin, by the way. I guess I’ll talk to you guys later,” he smiled and went towards the kitchen, the little sway in his hips telling him Namjoon had no chance against that one. The poor lug was currently trying to straighten up and look cool like he hadn’t just been cowering in the kitchen.

Yoongi snorted and turned away to give them their privacy, looking around the room for someplace to lounge. Before he could leave, one of the girls in the group that Seokjin had been talking with tapped his arm.

“That was really cool of you. Jin’s always talking about meeting his soulmate, so I’m sure he’s over the moon right now.”

Yoongi faced the speaker and his breath hitched. He’d seen cuter girls, sure, but...there was...something about this one. He didn’t know what this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach was. Maybe the shitty whiskey was finally getting to him.

She was looking up at him expectantly and he finally remembered that she’d said something.

“You’re fucking pretty.”

What the fuck? He’d meant to say thanks and then maybe try to sweet-talk his way into her pants. Where the fuck had that come from?

Even her blushing face was cute. He wanted to make a run for it, but at the same time he kinda just wanted to keep looking at her.

“I wish you were my soulmate.”

Her squeak of alarm, followed by her hand slapping against her mouth as she stared at him with alarmed eyes led him to a mind-fuck of a conclusion.

“Well, I think you got your wish,” he mumbled.

Her hand dropped and even her stunning smile wasn’t enough to quell the growing panic Yoongi felt. She was pretty, and looked nice, and was his soulmate.

He had a fucking soulmate.

And thus began what would be the first of the many, many times Yoongi would hurt the person he was supposed to protect the most as he turned tail and ran.

Yoongi had spent a lot of time in his youth wondering what his soulmate quirk could be. He’d always thought that the ones that could hear each other's music could be cool, or even the ones that could speak telepathically. His friend Taehyung and his soulmate Jimin could write to each other on their skin. Even that could have been neat.

Yoongi’s super amazing totally not problematic quirk was that he couldn’t fucking lie to his soulmate.

All those years wondering if his soulmate was dead or if he just didn’t have one, when it was just that he needed to meet them for it to work. He wondered if she’d grown up thinking he was dead too. That thought just made the guilt he felt raise even higher. She’d probably been thrilled that he was alive and in front of her for all of two seconds before he dashed her hopes and dreams running off like he had.

But here’s the thing. There are universally known facts about him:

Min Yoongi loves sleep. Min Yoongi likes music. Min Yoongi hates soulmates. Min Yoongi lies.

Sometimes his lies were simply to amuse himself at the expense of his friends. Being sarcastic, making up fake rumors, that kind of thing. No big deal. Sometimes it’s to protect those friends. Telling Taehyung his drawing his great when it looks like Yoongi could do a better job with his toes. Telling Jimin that he could barely notice the giant zit the size of the moon on his forehead. Telling Joon that that girl he’d been hung up on probably got busy, not that Yoongi had warned her to stay the fuck away when she tried to sneak into his bed right after she’d hooked up with Namjoon.

The problem was that most of his lies are about himself. He tells people he’s fine when he wants to jump off the nearest bridge. He tells Joon he remembered to eat and sleep when he’d really been a filthy goblin working on his project for two days straight. He has an hour-long panic attack in the bathroom and tells people he has IBS. He tells his mother she’s not a burden that ruined his childhood. He tells everyone he’s fine being soulmate-less and he didn’t feel lonely.

He lies.

And now the universe is laughing in his face because they’ve presented him with someone he literally can’t lie to. Not to protect himself, not to protect her. There was no way any relationship they tried to have wouldn’t end in disaster.

The very thought of having to bare himself to someone that much was utterly terrifying...and yet he was still more afraid of the look that Kim Seokjin was giving him from Yoongi’s doorway.

Namjoon and Seokjin had hit it off disgustingly well, enough so that ‘Jin’ had practically been living in their dorm room for nearly three weeks. He’d turned out to be a cool guy, and Yoongi imagined he would get along with him fairly well if only he’d stop sending him death glares over the breakfast table.

Except for now Jin’s moved on to glaring at him from his own bedroom door.

“I’ve had enough, Yoongi. Y/N’s my friend and a sweet girl. I’m tired of seeing her sad. Fix it.”

“Jin, this isn’t like you and Namjoon, okay? I never wanted a soulmate,” Yoongi sighs, flopping onto his back and covering his eyes with his arm. He just wanted the guy to get the fuck out and leave him to his miserable existence.

“I don’t really give a fuck,” Jin yelled.

Yoongi lowered his arm and glanced at Jin, impressed. He hadn’t known the other had it in him. He looked a little ridiculous and red-faced, but still, Yoongi had never heard him curse before.

“This isn’t just about you, Yoongi. She’s part of it too, whether you like it or not. She thought she didn’t have a soulmate and then you suddenly appear. Now she has a soulmate, but one that’s apparently rejected her. She’s a mess. Fix it.”

Jin walks towards Yoongi and throws a slip of paper on the bed, staring down at him as haughtily like a rich Korean mother from a drama. Without another word, he leaves and shuts the door as Yoongi picks it up, seeing the number on it. Hers, he assumes.

He sighs and ruffles his hair. He’s not a total asshole. He supposes he should at least meet with her and tell her why they couldn’t work.

He punches in the number and sends a text before he can talk himself out of it.

It took them three days to coordinate their schedules enough to meet (or the both of them had tried to push it forward as much as possible), and now they were finally sitting across from each other in neutral territory. Yoongi had figured meeting for a cup of coffee was probably cliche, but it was a safe choice and was somewhere he felt comfortable. It helped that Taehyung was a barista here and he would probably go along with it if Yoongi needed help escaping.

Yoongi gripped his cup of black coffee hard, gathering the courage to speak to her. Y/N looked tired, and maybe a little like she’d lost weight in her face, like she hadn’t been eating well. The thought that he’d upset her that much added another layer of guilt to the growing pile in his chest with her name on it.

“First of all, I wanted to say sorry for running out on you the other night. That was cowardly of me and kind of a shithead thing to do. So...sorry,” he mumbled, staring at the table.

He looked up again when she sighed.

“Thank you. That hurt me a lot,” she cringed, like that hadn’t been what she’d intended to say, and he supposed it wasn’t. Their soulmate quirk was a difficult one.

He ground his teeth as he fought the scratching in his throat, trying his best to word things in a way that wouldn’t scar her for life.

“Look, I just don’t trust this whole soulmate thing. The idea that your happiness revolves around this single person is bullshit. And...I’m terrified,” he grits out, hating how vulnerable he sounded.

She nods, “Yeah, it’s pretty scary. But, I don’t really think it’s about your happiness revolves around someone. More like, there’s this person that’s meant to help you become the best version of yourself, and maybe you can find your happiness together.”

Yoongi scoffs, stopping himself from saying anything sarcastic with a long sip from his cup. She was still so naive.

She chews her lip and suddenly there’s a look in her eyes that makes his pause and pay attention.

“It’s just...okay, so I thought you were dead most of my life, like I’m sure you thought I was. I thought that all of my future relationships were just going to be me being used as a placeholder until their soulmate comes along. And then maybe I’d find someone else who didn’t have a soulmate and we’d settle for each other. I thought that my chance at finding actual love was gone, and then you...,” she sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “You show up in front of me, being all fucking gorgeous and funny and a great friend - and alive. Sure, we probably have the shittest soulmate quirk and the fact that I’m rambling all this is proof of that, but Yoongi, you’re alive. I’m alive, and we’re soulmates. We have a chance. Can’t you at least give us a chance?”

Some part of him wanted to warn her about what she was getting into. He knew he would hurt her. He knew he would fuck everything up. But the truth was...he wanted to try. Something told him she was worth it. Was that just part of the whole soulmate brainwashing bullshit? He didn’t know, but the thought of leaving her behind today and never looking back felt wrong.

Yoongi sighs wearily as he observes her glassy eyes, knowing that this wouldn’t be the first time he’d make her tear up but unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth.

“Yeah. Let’s take a chance.”

#bts #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts!au #soulmate au #yoongi scenario #yoongi fanfic #solastia #I'm fine #love yourself anniversary collab

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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Like I Never Needed Anyone

Oleg The Prophet+Reader (Modern! AU)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

Ahh this is the fic with which I am entering the “400 followers celebration” (congrats again, sweetie!) made by @youbloodymadgenius.

For once I low key ditched Ivar (I am sorry babe) for Oleg (also GUYS… I HAVE JUST DISCOVERED THAT THE ACTOR WAS THE ONE WHO PLAYED DIMITRI IN ‘VAMPIRE ACCADEMY’, another crush of my heart..I… am in love).

As always any feedback is more than welcome, even more if you want to see this pairing again!

Have a nice day!

SUMMARY: Life isn’t easy when you are slowly recovering from a break-up in a new city and with a new job, but an handsome Russian prince might just come in and save the day.

WORDS: 7.8K

WARNINGS: Self Esteem Issues, Break-Up, Toxic Friends. low key OOC OLeg (I am sorry but when I usually write modern AU, I try to soften the characters, so sorry), Unprotected Sex (WRAP IT UP BABE, YOU ARE NOT MILIONAIRES RUSSIAN PRINCES… I think) Rough Sex (Dom-Sub Undertones), Dirty Talk, Degrading Talk. Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Fingering, Cum Play, Boss-Employee Relationship.

Destiny sometimes worked in the most mysterious of ways.

The day you had been give one of the best news of your life, your boyfriend had decided to break up with you.

That day you had come back home after having been given a role as a curator in a private gallery in Russia, your boyfriend had been waiting for you with his suitcase by the door.

‘Babe did you already pack the suitcase?’ you had joked, bringing him back inside as you caught him in the act of leaving, thinking he might have played you a joke, since you had sent him the message with the good news after you had received them.

No threat ruining your perfect day.

You had been working so hard to gain a work that properly matched with your skills.

The previous year you had refused a job offer abroad because of your boyfriend’s own career since he was slowly setting himself up in his new job and you didn’t want to disrupt the building romance that was growing.

You had been working through unpaid researches and part-time jobs, that didn’t help you feel confident and enough, but you had gone through them thinking about the small life you were creating with your boyfriend, more as a way to get out of the ‘single system’ than for actual love for Peter, your boyfriend.

He wasn’t your true soulmate, but you had long given up finding it, not wanting to fall again into the annoying scheme of being the only ‘single girl’ among your friends.

Also, you dreaded the dating atmosphere of having to listen to egotistical men who thought you would be in their beds by the end of the night and the awkwardness of fresh relationships.

Peter wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t attentive or romantic as Disney Prince, but you honestly didn’t think that anybody would ever be like that in the era of Tinder and PornHub.

You had started explaining him the details as you moved around the house and Peter sat uncomfortably onto the sofa, but you didn’t notice it, mumbling about your new job as a curator in some kind of private royal galleries of a Russian prince.

He apparently wanted to open some place of his enormous mansion to expose some family ‘heirlooms’ on special occasions and wanted somebody who would arrange it perfectly and create a proper exhibition.

“… I just have a month to get myself ready” you had mumbled, finally looking at Peter, as you moved closer to him “… I know that this is going to take a toll on our relationship, but… I just… this is a great chance for me!”.

“Babe, I am happy for you” he had tried to smirk lightly, but it hadn’t come out as nothing more than a worried frown and you had expected some comment about how far Russia was and how the two months would have been tough and… “… I think we need to talk”.

You had almost chocked on your own breath, knowing all too well that such a comment was made only in couple who was breaking up and, as Peter distanced himself from you, you realized you were that couple.

“I know that you are worried about Russia… but I have been trying to…”.

“It isn’t simply Russia” he replied, his face moved in a convinced pout, as if nothing you might have said would change his opinion “… it’s just… I have just felt like I am wasting myself here”.

Hadn’t you been so shocked you would have gladly punched him in the face for being just an asshole.

“… you are not my true love, we aren’t each other’s soulmate” and again, without the shock effect, you would have gladly told him that it was why your relationship worked, it was what both you had searched when you had gotten together “… this is not what I want in my life, I want to find true love”.

And as he went on with his ‘I am a free man’ speech, you had just looked at him confused: nothing had given you the notion that you were in a crisis, although maybe you had had to start from the fact that you had never acted as a couple, not putting enough effort and not expecting it.

Maybe, maybe… Peter was right, you had to find your own true love.

And that illusion had lasted for an entire week of crying and self-esteem issues, till you had found Peter on Instagram with his new girlfriend: a tall blonde who looked like the twin of Taylor Swift, which made it extremely difficult for you to hate ‘the tall giraffe’, as you had tried to call her.

But again, each time you saw her stories she was either baking cookies for less-fortunate-kids or writing feminist magazines, which made you question how the freaking hell she had ended up with Peter.

You had almost been glad when you had had to move to Russia, the entire situation there was completely different from and more relaxed from the one back home.

Your friends after your break-up had been low key distant and the sole ways they had tried to comfort you was either to get you to bars or clubs to get you a rebound or presenting you new guys for you to date.

In Russia you hadn’t much to do except work and home, since the mansion you worked in was pretty away from the small apartment you had gotten for your staying of three months and it would take you at least an hour to arrive there.

Also the cold weather had almost killed you on your first week, which made you uneasy to go out, although Cristina, your collaborator at the mansion, tried to desperately get you out, but at least she didn’t push out desperate dudes onto you.

‘We are in Russia, Cristina’ you always protested, as she grabbed you and tried to teach you how to ‘rumba’.

‘But you have a proper Latina in front of you!’ she always replied, talking about how she would dance all night back in Barcelona, telling you should visit her just to do that, once you finished working there.

Cristina was honestly another thing for which you were thankful for, although her cheery personality would bump with your most reserved one sometimes, you honestly thought that she helped you to try to keep a positive outlook in life.

And then there was Oleg, your boss.

You hadn’t seen him when you had arrived, being introduced in the job by Cristina who had arrived a month before you in order to set up and bring some documents and paintings from Madrid, and the only inhabitants of the huge mansion were the staff, alongside a governess and Oleg’s nephew, Igor, who would sometimes visit you during your work, playing around with his puppets.

You had almost thought this was some kind ‘Tun of the Shrew’ shit, but then one day, arriving late, the first time in the four weeks you had been there, you had caught the boss in the exhibition hall.

You had bumped in with some coffee stolen from the kitchen since Cristina didn’t seem to work fully till she got at least a cup of that ‘heavenly beverage’ in her system.

But she hadn’t been in the studio, instead a tall man was there looking around at the still empty walls, since you had focused yourself the month prior onto catalogizing the entire exhibition.

You had almost been scared of the sudden appearance, but the man was as handsome as not many men around there, definitely looking the part of the ‘last Romanoff’, with his piercing eyes and mainly features on a perfect face.

And then he had spoken.

‘Is that coffee? Because I just came back from a twelve hours flight and the one there was shit’.

You had immediately pushed forward the cup, almost as a peace offering.

“… oh you must be the curator, the American one” he had mumbled, after he had almost burned his tongue on the coffee “… I do think that you can already realize that I am prince Oleg, although I hate with all my heart the title, just Oleg around the manor”.

“… (Y/N)” you had been simply able to mumble, looking at him, the way he moved so at ease and confident that got a light shiver of definitely-not-cold, running through you.

“Beautiful name” and the look that he had sent to your body had meant that he wasn’t talking only about your name, although you were wearing one of your least flattering sweater and a pair of deformed jeans which did nothing for your inexistent figure “… shouldn’t you be already putting up the pictures and paintings?”.

And then you had started to rumble everything you knew to the point that Oleg had smiled, and gently touching one of your shoulder he had mumbled.

‘Slower, dorogaya” he had joked softly, giving you a smile that had rendered you speechless.

You had almost been grateful that Cristina had arrived a few minutes later, processing to steal Oleg’s attention from you, since they were old friends from what she had told you and that is why Oleg had chosen her and trusted her for this exhibition.

But still… you couldn’t help but envy lightly the attention that was poured onto your colleague, although you knew it was stupid to be jealous of her.

Oleg’s visits had become more frequent: he was a bit of a control freak which made you put your best into this job, although you had to admit that you loved it with all your heart, it was something that made you feel well about yourself and your abilities.

It certainly helped with your awful self-esteem, since after the break up it had been under your feet.

And if you ignored Oleg’s search for perfection and his outbursts of rage (which weren’t against you, most of them happened against his brothers) he was actually quite the nice boss, and even more an handsome man whose simple smirk got your heart to jump through climbs.

You had a superficial knowledge of each other, mostly when he would stay a bit with you to keep you company as you checked through catalogues and new ideas, asking you questions about your work and the best part was when he would light up as you told him something that got quite the impression on him.

Almost as if he was trying to understand what you said.

Which was something that Peter had never done with you.

It flattered you.

And his petnames made you feel things.

Kitska, Zaika, Malishka and Kroshka and many more that got you more and more interested into learning Russian, at least to know what they would mean, but they still got you to feel heavy and bothered as he pronounced them, smirking at you and licking his lips.

You still remembered after a particular rough day, when you had chosen the setting of the paintings, he had come behind you, his breath gently tickling your ear, as he grabbed lightly onto your waist, leaving a slight pat on it.

“Good job, Krasotka”.

And right after you had come home that day, barely greeting your Swedish roommate, you had moved in your room, gotten into nothing but your panties and teased yourself softly at the repetition of that soft voice, completely untangling the block you had been having after the break up.

Sex with Peter wasn’t exactly amazing, barely the sparks of the things you could do on your own, but after your break up you hadn’t just felt either sexy or enough aroused to think about sex, but Gosh if you hadn’t been able to slip your finger between your thighs desperately and over and over, that night.

Till the shame of having just gotten off thinking your boss had taken over you and masturbation had been even more difficult, alongside watching Oleg in the eyes.

That night Cristina had left you early, she had a date and left work early, as Oleg had walked in for his daily check, finding finally all the walls set up, since you had only two weeks till the exhibition went public, and your work would be over.

Which you would be dreading, not solely because that job was one of the best you had ever had, but also and most importantly you would be missing the people: Cristina, small Igor who would try to distract you to get you to play with him and Oleg.

Before going off Cristina had winked your way, making sure that the door of your work-room was closed behind you.

‘I am not there to chaperone you, so don’t let Oleg win you over with that wicked tongue of his…’ she had joked softly, as you blushed and tried to deny her insinuations “… oh c’mon, you always blush when he comes here, and he has a slight… fixation on your body’.

‘Stop joking around, Cristina’ you had tried to laugh it off, but the ‘caliente’ girl had just sent you a meaningful look, smirking softly as she came closer, mirroring the way Oleg preferred to talk with you: one hand onto your waist and his breath on your ear.

He definitely didn’t do it with Cristina.

‘… he might like you more than you think, sweet girl, and I’ll be very pissed if you can walk tomorrow’ you had blushed, almost burning your face as you tried to intimidate her into shutting up ‘… don’t tell me that you didn’t notice the way his eyes stay glued to your ass when you lowered your body to get the painting folders yesterday’.

‘Men like Oleg don’t go out with girls like me’ you had muttered between gritted teeth.

You had barely landed a Peter, an Oleg… Gosh… you couldn’t even fathom why he liked teasing you so much.

‘Oh sweetie…’ had replied Cristina as she got away from you ‘… you have no idea what men like Oleg want till they ask you’.

And you couldn’t help but work the rest of the time with a worsening blush, even being startled as Oleg walked in with coffee in his hands, simply wearing house clothes, which for him meant a black turtleneck that probably was worth half your apartment, and loose sweatpants that weren’t loose in the right place.

You had taken a small peak when he was distracted.

And Gosh… since then you had been scared and horny at the same time.

The ‘don’t masturbate on your boss’ rule certainly didn’t do anything for your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s just me, Oleg!” he laughed, pushing the coffee mug next to you “… no murder ghost, we don’t have any of those here… I think”.

“That’s reassuring” you shot back, grabbing the mug and drinking a big gulp of it, to calm your nerves “… no wife hidden in the attic, Mr. Rochester?”.

“Just a crazy wife, but sadly I don’t own an attic” he blurted out and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by the knowledge that he was married.

You had gotten off not only to your boss but also to a married man.

You were so going to hell.

“… but let’s just say that she isn’t my wife anymore, even worse than ‘Jane Eyre’ “ he mumbled lightly, making you let out a breath of relief “… we split up six months ago, but we had stopped being lovers a long time before that, it was… complex”.

“I am sorry to hear that” you muttered softly as you calmed yourself, seeing as much as that little confession had impacted onto Oleg who looked like he was breaking himself apart, keeping his gaze onto his hands to avoid yours.

“But I hadn’t come here to talk about this sad stuff…” he mumbled, something softer settling in his eyes as his gaze came onto you “… I wanted to actually invite to dine here, since we have both been left alone, Cristina is out on a date and my brother Dir brought Igor to the cinema, and the staff took an holiday, so…”.

You couldn’t help but be a bit confused and shocked by the invite, unsure whether it would have been unprofessional to accept it or rude to reject it.

“It would be amazing, but I have to go home before it is dark, even more because there isn’t Cristina with me… so…” you tried to be polite, finding a rightful excuse but before you could finish your ramblings, Oleg stopped you, again touching your shoulder as he moved forward.

“That’s why I wanted to ask you to stay, actually, kitska” he replied softly “You could sleep here at the manor for one night, if you don’t have anything better to do, obviously. So, you wouldn’t have to go back all alone…”.

The entire proposal was also rightful, if you thought that you were uneasy to walk alone at night, but you still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were trespassing some boundaries.

“Ahem…” you stalled and Oleg went a step further, destroying any boundary you might have set for yourself, taking your hands in his.

They seemed so small in his hold, rough and definitely hands that worked their way to the success, contrasting strongly with his ‘prince’ image.

You almost wanted to know what they would feel elsewhere.

“… c’mon, zaika! Don’t leave me with the ghosts!” he mumbled, faking a pleading tone which got you to blush under the intensity of his gaze, a dominant one that made you blush roughly.

“You said there weren’t ghosts!” you tried to shift the attention, knowing that the decision didn’t belong to you anymore.

“… that I know of…” he replied with a devious smirk “… pretty please”.

“Just because you asked so nicely…” you muttered back and Oleg almost jumped onto you in an hug that made you blush and tremble and you were quick to push him away lightly “… I just need to do a small shower before, everything, if you don’t mind”.

“Oh no please, don’t, the stench might scare off the ghosts” and you lightly kicked him in the shins.

He couldn’t talk to you like that, whether he was your boss or not.

“That wasn’t nice” you replied, as he giggled lightly, grabbing one of your hand and again annulling the distance, he brought you closer, kissing the back of it with a warmth that made you red all over your face.

“… forgive me please, my lady” he mumbled, and you were again quick to push away your hand from his hold, aware that this was slowly taking a turn you didn’t know if you were ready for “… I am going to get the room ready, now, till a few of the staff are still here”.

“Thank you”.

And now you were just having an existential crisis, about what it meant for your hot boss to ask you out to dinner…

---

You had never been this grateful for the dress you had packed for work.

Once Cristina had dumped an entire pot of red paint on your clothes which had been rather uncomfortable to stay in, mostly for the stares of the people on the bus on the way back home.

Hence you had started to pack a change of clothes to work, something you wouldn’t feel the need to wear any day and something that was easy to smuggle in your bag, such as a small dress and stocking.

Nothing glamorous or such, only a simple maroon dress with an high neck and an asymmetric cut to the hem of the skirt and although it was no ‘little black dress’ or some expensive gala elegance, it fell just right onto your body, highlighting your figure in a flattering but shy way.

Sadly, you hadn’t brought also your make-up bag, since you didn’t wear it at work, but you had been able to style your hair properly in order for them to be up in an elegant but effortless updo.

Looking yourself in the vintage mirror, you didn’t feel bad about the entire ensemble, it even made you smile, when you hadn’t been able to properly look at your body in months.

You exited the room and moved towards the stairs since the mansion had the rooms on the first floor and the dining room at the ground floor.

And as you were appearing on top of the stairs, Oleg appeared at their bottom, and he looked at you stuck in his position as you moved down praying not to stumble, suddenly at unease without your working coat to shield you from painting and dust and… more importantly, men’s gazes.

Such as Oleg’s.

As you were on the last step, he quickly moved onto you to help you, offering you his hands.

“… I was going to check on you” he said breathless, before he calmed himself reappearing relaxed “… to see if the ghosts had stolen you away”.

“Ah no just enjoying your warm shower, this weather is simply not for me” you replied softly, trying not to give too much thought at the fact that Oleg kept your hand in his, lowering it by his side.

“… there are ways to warm up” he joked, before he gently pushed you behind him in the dining room, the smaller one that the staff used, which was warmer and more intimate, definitely making you blush as Oleg left your hand when you sat down, him in front of you, the innuendo in his world badly hidden “… like warm food! I got the staff to prepare you some special meals, just before they left, hope you’ll like them”.

“They were very gracious” you mumbled softly, your smile faltering a bit due to the fact that although Oleg had all that flirty attitude towards you, it would just end up in a more friendly conversation.

You couldn’t help but call the entire thing ‘mixed signals’.

“Not as much as you” he replied, sending you a small look from the side of his eye “… you honestly look gorgeous in that dress, should wear them more often”.

The suggestion made you dizzy, and you hadn’t even come close to the wine, which was a bad sign.

“… I don’t have a lot… of occasions to wear them” you mumbled “… I prefer my warm and comfy sweaters, wouldn’t want catch a cold so close to the end of the exhibition”.

“Oh no talk of the exhibition, tonight!” he made you promise, lightly raising his hand from the table to settle it onto your thigh, the upper part of it in a move too bold for him “… let’s talk about anything else, please, just do like if I was Cristina”.

And you had erupted with laughter, trying to imagine the burly man as your Latina friend.

A small chihuahua with teeth and a pendant for raggaeton.

“… ok just like a friend, not simply Cristina” he admitted softly, as you smirked lightly “… got anyone waiting for you at home?”.

You couldn’t help but notice a tone of investigation in his question but played coy and gave him the truth.

Nothing would have changed if you had lied.

“… no one, except my mom” you mumbled softly, twirling the wine inside of your glass “…and my friends, but I am secretly happy to get away from them”.

“No boyfriend?” now Oleg’s tone was definitely more interested than proper, as he avoided looking at you and ate his meal, pouring himself another glass of wine and filling yours, although you had barely finished your first “… a girl like you might have not only a boyfriend but a lover at home”.

Although it was a joke, there was some kind of bitterness to it.

“I had one” you muttered softly, again taking a quick drink from your glass, although you wanted to dunk the entire bottle “… we split up before I had to go to Russia, apparently ‘I wasn’t his true love’ “.

You expected pity, maybe agreement with him, since a good half of your friends had stood by his side.

Not the way Oleg looked almost hurt, as if he had put himself in your shoes.

Or maybe he had been in them.

“… according to my ex-wife, I started neglecting her, and we had married too young to know what we truly wanted… all the passion burned out… yadda yadda yadda…” his immediate reaction was to let out a bit of that rage in his own work, against his competition, almost as if he used it not to break down “… all shitty excuses for cowards who can’t face their own flaws”.

“Oh no, believe me… in this case, he had a few rights” you had mumbled, immediately feeling all your insecurities coming crashing down “… there is obviously something wrong with me”.

Because you weren’t a tall giraffe who baked for poorer kids and wrote feminist articles.

You couldn’t be it ever in your life.

You were simply a clumsy art curator, with a kink for having everything under control and comfy sweaters.

You weren’t the type of girl who was interesting or gentle or beautiful…

“Nothing is wrong with you, malishka” now Oleg’s hand squeezed lightly your thigh under your table “… you are smart, sweet and fucking beautiful, and if that Сволочь didn’t see it, then it’s his fucking problem. He is the one who has… everything wrong”.

Meanwhile all this happened Oleg’s face had shifted to meet yours and his eyes were so strongly set onto you that they made you shiver, almost in fear.

Not of him, but of the intensity, with the worry of not deserving his words.

“… I don’t… “ you didn’t know what to say, but as Oleg moved closer taking his hand in his free one, you felt like nothing had to be said “… it’ll take me a bit of time to feel like what you said is true… but thank you… really”.

“I just hope you’d believe me, right on the spot” his voice had a nostalgic tone that froze you on the spot, as he pinned you again with his pretty eyes “… you deserve to be showered with compliments, every day, (Y/N)”.

“Maybe I should stay more, since you are so lenient on giving them” you teased him, moving away the attention from yourself, suddenly the air was too heavy, threaded with muttered whispers and bad memories.

“… if that is all you want to, stay here all you want” he had softly leaned back and the turtleneck had tightened over his muscles as they shifted under the black fabric, and you couldn’t help but feel your body warm up at the sole thought, as you mimicked his position “…I think that I’ll gladly gave you any compliment you want, kisa”.

Gosh, that breathy tone, almost a note higher than a moan…

It made you feel things.

“… flatterer” you shot back, lightly kicking his shin with your feet and Oleg smirked, downing another glass that shadowed his smile.

“Just for the pretty ladies”.

The entire night passed with you finishing half a bottle of expensive red wine, in an exchange that seemed a move stuck between ‘will they or won’t they’, in something that dragged things to be hot but still hazed and confused.

The wine had certainly made you lose all your inhibitions, and you were currently onto Oleg soft sofa, a vintage piece which was too big for two lovers, and too small for two friends, to the point where you were sat on your knees, the dress stretching a bit, in a way that made you uncaring, and Oleg was next to you, not directly touching you, but his arm was stretched over the back of the sofa, in ‘an almost hug’.

“… oh c’mon don’t tell me that you seriously fell onto your ass the first time you tried skating” you laughed out loud, as Oleg faced away with a smirk on his face “… you are a shame for your nation for sure!”.

Oleg shifted quickly position, a bit too quickly for your hazed sense, lightly pushing an hand over your mouth, in a way that made you open your eyes immediately at that gesture, as his hands moved quickly from simply hovering over your mouth to gently trace your lips, something that made you follow them as they retreated from your body, pushing it forward and arching it towards him.

“… don’t scream my secrets out to everyone” he retorted, lightly falling back on his seat as you, lightly closer to him.

“Or?” you shot back, a wicked smile of teasing on your face, his touch having uncovered something wicked in you.

“… or I’ll have to shut you up, kisa”.

“You always call me those strange names and I don’t understand what you mean half of the time” your tongue was now definitely loose.

“I just called you… ‘kitten’… I think it is the proper meaning in your own tongue”.

And as your chatting spirit had appeared it immediately disappeared at the knowledge of that.

You had known that they were term of endearment, but ‘kitten’ sounded so sexual.

As Oleg’s behavior.

You choked on your own saliva and a situation of stall appeared between you two, as you felt an awkward silence falling onto you.

You were frozen under the possible fear of what a move from you might entail, although Oleg’s teasing had left you hot and bothered, enough to make you feel like you could just move forward and kiss him to end all that waiting.

But what if it went wrong?

What if he simply didn’t want you like this, although he had said all those sweet things?

And the touching that had inflamed what was between your thighs, maybe was just normal for him.

Different cultures, different reactions.

And then he did something that was common to both your culture: he kissed you.

He leaned in, almost impatient, pressing harshly his lips onto yours, with a force that left you aching desperately.

Almost as desperate was his grip onto your hands, as he pinned them onto your lap.

Peter had always touched you so distractedly as if you could have been anybody under his hands, but Oleg had a flame in the way he deepened the kiss, making you open your mouth, that would have been almost too violent, hadn’t you been aching for him so desperately.

As you both lost your breath, you lightly distanced yourself from him to take again your breath, turning your head not to show Oleg the deep shade of red on your cheeks, due to embarrassment and your lost breath, as you tried to collect yourself.

Any dizziness from the wine gone and replaced by your desperate need for Oleg.

“Did I scare you, kroshka” his gaze was burning into you, daring you to turn back and face him.

“… I just need to take…” you tried to calm yourself with a small smile “… a breath”.

“I didn’t mean to come onto you this strong” his voice was seriously worried and as you turned lightly, looking at his hands, he seemed to be stopping himself from touching you again “… you must think I am a Мудак…”.

“I am not… I can do my own decisions” you retorted, not wanting to be made feel like a breakable good, because you weren’t in any shape or form, and even if you couldn’t stop the contrasting feelings in the pit of your stomach, you didn’t want to go back to that insecurity.

Oleg’s kiss had ignited something in you, that brought you to feel desperate and bothered.

You didn’t feel like going back to the vulnerable state you had always been, when Oleg treated you like his most beloved possession, with desperation in his eyes

“Don’t try to fix me, I’m not broken” you spoke your words slowly, to make them more meaningful as you inched closer, till you were right onto his laps, your hands cornering his face, as they set on his shoulder to steady yourself, your lips coming closer “… don’t worry, I am a big girl and I know what I am getting into”.

And you were the one who initiated the kiss, it was more teasing and softer as you smashed your lips together, biting lightly at first his upper lip, before delving into the bottom one, as he tried to get some control of the kiss, slipping his tongue in your open mouth, but you immediately closed it, distancing yourself quickly, with a smirk on her face.

And then you did it all the same, stopping every time Oleg tried to control it, in a way that was making him grow restless between you, as the atmosphere moved to a more tender and relaxed one, your teasing giggles making Oleg smirk into your mouth, although his hands wandered, gently caressing your back, and then moving slower and slower…

“… what do you say we move this to my bedroom?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrow at you as he pushed you closer to him, with his hand onto your back.

And although the kisses had broken a few of your insecurities, now you couldn’t help but doubt the professionality of it; what would have happened if he wanted simply a night of sex?

What if he was disappointed and you had to see him around?

You tensed against him at all those thoughts, even more at the realization that suddenly you wanted more than sex, although you weren’t sure of Oleg’s opinion.

Which was definitely not a good idea.

“What is troubling you, kisa?” he asked again softly, his eyes searching yours as he adjusted your hair behind your ears, pushing a soft kiss on the exposed skin, making you tremble lightly, melting under his attentive touch.

“… you are my boss…” you mumbled voicing your inner conflict, avoiding his eyes as you let yourself lean in further in his kisses “… wouldn’t this… ahem… be unprofessional”.

“If this is up to me…” he had a devilish smirk that made you tighten the grip onto your thighs, splayed on him “… I don’t think this is unprofessional, but I may be a bit egoistical, since I have been pretty in love with that body and mind of yours, since I first saw you”.

Had he seriously said ‘love’?

“What if… things are awkward?” because you couldn’t envision a bright side of this without a dark one.

“Then you are here only for two more weeks, and then I’ll disappear from your life” his voice had a nostalgic tone that made you caress his handsome face, starting from that strong jaw that tried to form a small smile “… but believe me, I don’t disappoint ladies, I never have”:

You giggled, a bit comforted by his words, and too far gone behind his charms to do anything more than nod softly and let him softly raise you from the sofa as you nodded against him.

“… then maybe you should show me those skills ‘that never disappoint ladies’ “.

“Your word my command, printsessa”.

And that’s how you ended onto Oleg’s antique bed, still comfortable enough as Oleg pushed you onto, your back arched against him, rutting like an animal against his growing erection, the size of it already impressive, brushing against you through his sweatpants.

He was still dressed, but you had already discarded your dress, which he had thrown out carelessly once you were back on your feet on the threshold of his bedroom, barely giving you the time to look around as he gripped onto your thighs, raising you as you giggled.

Then your stockings had been quickly discarded, being ripped off your body.

You had almost squealed in shocks as you fell onto the bed, completely losing yourself in Oleg’s savage gaze, as you pushed him playfully.

“Ripping my clothes won’t get you any points, prince!” you shot back, and his hand simply lowered itself cupping your sex, making you smirk lightly, as he looked at you smugly.

“… then why are you wet?” and he brushed his fingers a few times more onto your clothed core “… should I assume that this is the outcome you had hoped for tonight? Your matching bra and panties say so to me, at least”.

“No, you just got lucky” you retorted softly, wanting to knock down his ego a few notches

Although it seemed impossible.

Your bra had been discarded with much more gentleness, the man unhooking it expertly with just one hand, meanwhile the other already gripped one breast softly, as he mouthed sweet loves bites and kisses onto your neck.

He groped you with his big hands, rolling his nipples against his palms in a rough motion that made you screech softly as his mouth caught yours again, pulling your hair back to get the full control of the kiss.

You weren’t able to deny him or tease him as you had done on the sofa.

“… I think that I got lucky from the minute I saw you in that awful hall, Gosh the sight of these tits accompanied my dreams for quite a few nights”.

You were almost relieved to know you hadn’t been the only one to dream about this.

Although you weren’t going to tell the man, his ego almost as big as…

His erection brushed through your barely clad core and you ate up a moan, biting down onto Oleg’s lower lip in an attempt to calm your feverish body, which instead continued to follow him desperately, as he realized the soaking situation down there.

Your panties doing not much to hide it.

And even less as he slipped them, ripping them off.

“You owe me a new pair”.

“I prefer the thought of you without them, so that I can pull you in the first hallway and make you mine” he muttered and then his attention shifted, something being ignited in his belly by your own desperation.

“… and what about the others?” you teased him as he moved to gently kiss his way down your body, stopping at your breasts to lavish them, almost torturing them since they were oversensitive from his hand, but you didn’t mind, and shifted one leg lightly to the side, a bit pushing it to your side, to let him feast his eyes onto the masterpiece between your legs “… what if they see me without panties?”.

His grip onto your hands, immediately froze you and made you smirk as you understood you had hit a sore spot, and slowly Oleg came face to face with you.

“Then we would have a problem” he smirked, but his eyes held a dangerous tone to his words, as he softly tapped at your thigh to make you focus and he lightly dragged the back of his hand against the soft expanse of your inner thigh “… because I don’t like others tampering with what is mine”.

“Am I yours?” you replied, playing a dangerous game with the man but true interest flashed in his eyes.

“… yes you are, dorogaya” he smirked softly, before he dove against your thigh pressing a kiss on the soft expanse, and right when you were relaxing he bit onto the skin, making you almost yelp at the surprise “… and believe me you’ll know by the end of the night”.

“Aren’t you pretentious, prince?” you shot back, teasingly “… always in need of something to stroke your big ego?”.

“Would you prefer to do the stroking?” he replied, almost purring, but didn’t give you any breath to reply as he dove from your thigh onto your wet heat, darting a soft kiss that stole your breath, as you kept it in your lungs, waiting for his next move.

And his hand joined his tongue on your sex in a delicious teasing that showed you shouldn’t have played around with this man: he was truly dangerous, as he withhold you with the gentlest of touches and a desperation that made you almost arch violently against him.

“… not so powerful, kisa, when your nails are not sharpened” he joked with you, as he gently licked onto your pearl, his fingers dipping teasingly past your folds, making you adapt yourself around them, as you wetted them with your essence.

There was something so primal in your coupling with him that didn’t allow you to feel anything else than the moment.

No shame for screwing your boss, or insecurity for what Peter hadn’t seen in you.

You almost felt beautiful, worshipped under his attentive care.

And when he had enough of that he made you feel like a true woman.

He pushed you onto your hands and knees, something which surprised you quite a bit, since he had been teasing but mostly attentive and gentle, and in your previous sexual experiences you had never done it in any other way than missionary.

But you were under his spell.

And let him push his cock into you, as it penetrated you to a new angle.

Your folds engulfed him easily till half of his length, the lack of something bigger than your fingers making itself known to you as Oleg gently pressed his fingers down your clit to make you relax around him.

In a way he was gentle, completely contrasting with the vulgar position he was having you in.

But Gosh, as the pain and your tightness passed, you couldn’t help but love the way he pounded onto you, almost threatening to make you fall onto your back, as his touched yours and his hipbones, slapped your base ass, definitely red marks would be blooming on it, the following day.

You tried your best to hold yourself off on your own hands, but not only supporting your weight was tough with all the pleasure coursing through your body, but Oleg’s relentless rhythm made you dizzy, and you almost fell face first in the pillow.

The pillow almost suffocated you, till Oleg just caught you by your hair and pushed you to sit right onto his cock, his beard brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, as another hand sneaked on your waist to keep you steady as his thrusts became slower but not less brutal.

But the angle he found hit your ‘special’ spot perfectly.

“Look at you, zaika” he mumbled darkly in your ear, as his grip tightened onto your waist, his fingers dug in the flesh “… not even able to keep your pretty body straight… I wonder what you are good for”.

“… you are fucking me, aren’t you” you were simply able to utter, as a particular thrust made you moan out loud.

“Just a little nice fucktoy, aren’t you zaika?” he repeated, his smirk kissing your ear, as he speeded up his rhythm “… something to fill with my seed and my cock all night, if I want to”.

The sole thought of it made you ooze pure wetness onto his cock, as you tightened your grip around it.

“Not even able to answer me now, shluha”.

The reply seemed definitely less nice than all the petnames but it didn’t fail to arouse you any less.

“… I wonder how much it will take you to come…” he smirked softly, against you, cooing teasingly in your ear “… definitely not much with the way you are squee… Gosh… squeezing me”.

And it didn’t take you long indeed, the angle, the feeling of Oleg’s hands on you and the desperation in your entire body, making it impossible for you to stop the magical release that washed over you as you sank down onto him, completely, stilling as you rode the wave of the crashing emotion going through your body.

You were shaking so terribly that you weren’t sure whether an earthquake was going through your body or if it was your body creating it.

Oleg guided you through it softly, slower thrusts as he pushed himself in and out of you, almost completely, making you feel each inch of his manhood, in a way that overstimulated you, as you tried to grip him to keep him in you, in a desperate attempt to have more of him.

But he exited you and pushed you to roll onto your back, completely splayed against him, meanwhile he looked as composed as ever, his cock simply out of his boxers and pants, in a way that made you feel vulnerable and exposed.

It made you wet again for him.

Once he was out of you, he chased his own high with his hand, eventually coming onto your stomach as it slowly dropped onto your small Venus mount with a slow movement that made you clench your stomach under the different temperatures of his warm seed and your cold stomach, sweaty and suddenly exposed to the coldness of the room.

Oleg fell next to you ungracefully, but he sneaked a quick hand onto your stomach, playing with his cum, before he propped himself onto one elbow to look at you, a sweaty mess you were sure, but you weren’t able to deny him as he pushed his messy fingers past your mouth, looking at you as you tasted him.

Salty and warm it coated your mouth in a way that rendered your lips sticky and filled you as his cock had done with your cunt.

You wanted to taste him.

But you also needed a breather, as Oleg sank back down the bed, and you just tried to look out towards the opposite side, knowing that if you had taken a look at him right now, everything would have come crashing down.

You almost expected him to kick you out.

Maybe ask for another round, as he gently shifted away from the bed leaving you cold and unattended.

Gosh you should have definitely gone away.

And you were collecting your dress and your bra when he came back a soft towel in his hand and he had changed his sweatpants.

Probably because his previous ones were stained with your wetness.

You were unable to stare at him as he appeared in your vision.

“… already leaving, zaika?” he seemed almost… disappointed.

“I don’t think that I can immediately go another around” you replied, trying to avoid his gaze as he quickly settled onto the bed, the warm towel being moved onto your stomach to collect his sticky seed, for which you were grateful.

“… then we can cuddle, malishka” he replied as if it was obvious and he helped you settle down the covers, almost as a small child, a bit uneasy on your still-trembling legs, to which he shot a smug smirk.

“… don’t flatter yourself, I just haven’t had dick in a pretty long time” you told him, as you slapped his chest, just for him to grab tightly your hand and bring it to his lips.

“Then I do think that you might need more convincing”.

---

Please don’t judge my bad attempt with the Russian language!

Here are, by the way the meaning of each word:

Malishka=Babygirl.

Krasotka=Gorgeous.

Printsessa=Princess.

Dorogaya=Dear.

Zaika=Bunny.

Kroshka=Little One.

Kiska/KIsa=Kitten.

Сволочь=Asshole.

Мудак=Prick.

Shluha=BItch/Whore.

@ rainycloudstarlight @alyssa23145678910 @ squids-for-knees @youbloodymadgenius @queenboosha @barnzbucky @ itsleeshanotlouise @ confusedgirlyy @the--insignificant--one @roury12 @justsomestuffiguessman

#Oleg The Prophet #Oleg Reader #Oleg The Prophet Reader #Oleg x Reader #Oleg Imagine #Oleg Smut #Smut #Oleg Fic #Oleg The Prophet Fic #Challenge #Vikings #Vikings Imagine #Vikings Smut #vikings reader #Modern au

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onthevirgeofdestruction · 5 years ago

Link

Dreaming While I Wake

Sanders Sides Foster Care AU - Roman-centric Angst & Hurt/Comfort & Abuse Recovery

Roman tries to be upbeat and hopeful despite all the shit that’s happened to him. And a lot of shit has. Luckily, his new foster home is with two literal rays of sunshine (and a sarcastic asshole).

Words: 3,263 Warnings: Food, Food Insecurity Mention, Forcing Self to Eat Something Mention, Negative Self-Talk, Negative Self-Image, Video Game Violence, Dogs Characters: Roman, Thomas Universe: Dreaming While I Wake Genre: Vibing™ too hard and a bit of angst, as a treat

Chapter 24

chapter 1 for new readers - ffn mirror

Roman kicked off his shoes at the foot of his bed and dropped his backpack next to his desk. He was tired, what’s new. His feet finally hurt less, at least. He was also immensely grateful to say that for once he didn’t have to spend all night on homework. He had something due at the end of the week, but he didn’t have to do it tonight. He was terrible at starting homework early anyway, so there was no point in trying today.

Part of him was glad that the Sanders didn’t kick him back so he wouldn’t have to be doing this all over again at a new school. He’d only had two families that returned right away, but he did much less awful shit at their houses than he did here. It only made sense that they would send him away, but he didn’t mind still being here. They’d probably see reason eventually, so Roman shouldn’t get his hopes up or anything.

A snack and breaking out the art supplies sounded like a pleasant way to pass the time. He’d sketched something he really liked in English, and he wanted to give it a proper go and not on thin notebook paper. The coffee table was glass, so he could transfer it to his sketchbook with that. He gathered the supplies he needed and headed back downstairs, dropping off the stuff on the coffee table and heading into the kitchen for a bite to eat.

The pantry didn’t really reveal anything appetizing. He’d had mostly chips after school lately so he didn’t want those, and they’d long since finished those peanut butter filled pretzels much to Roman’s dismay. Roman scanned the fridge and freezer. He could have a healthy snack of an apple or something… or he could make some of those biscuits made entirely out of cheese they had with dinner last night and dip them in pizza sauce. The answer was obvious. He pulled out the cheese biscuits and lined them up on parchment paper in the toaster oven on the counter. He cooked a few extras in case a wild Virgil appeared. He seemed to have junk food sensing powers.

Roman went to the coffee table to clear off some space to use it. The more he removed, the more it revealed it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Spills and fingerprints would mess with his ability to use the table as a lightbox, so he grabbed the glass cleaner and a rag to clean it off. After cleaning both sides of the coffee table, he noticed the other glass in the living room was a little smudged up. The cabinet windows on the entertainment center had doggy nose prints on the lower parts, along with the windows. He already had it in his hands, so why not? Roman passed through and cleaned up all the glass in the living area, the mirror in the front hall, the microwave and stove door, and the window in the kitchen.

The toaster oven dinged and distracted him from cleaning off the front of the dishwasher. He had completely forgotten he’d put those in. Roman wiped the last corner of the dishwasher and washed the ammonia off his hands, leaving the cleaner and rag on the counter. He grabbed a plate and served himself half of the biscuits and dumped a little pizza sauce from the jar on his plate. Some part of his mind registered that they were fresh out of the toaster oven, but he picked one up to dip like an idiot and burned his fingers, anyway.

Roman grumbled while he ran his fingertips under cold water at the sink. He pulled them out to check if they were better yet, but they were still hot, so he kept them under the water a little longer. Virgil appeared as expected, which cheered Roman back up a bit. The idea of Virgil having junk food senses was funny, and he loved it when Virgil proved him right.

“I made you some, too,” Roman motioned with his head to the toaster oven. Virgil grinned wildly and just stole Roman’s plate and left the kitchen. Roman laughed out loud at the audacity of this bitch and shook his head. He pulled his fingers out again, and they felt fine now, so he served himself the other half in the same manner. He had the good sense to get a fork this time. He threw out the parchment paper and sat at the table, pulling out his phone to wait for his food to cool down. He saw the date and realized he probably needed to do laundry, so he got up to head upstairs and grab his basket.

He long since hasn’t needed to sort out his clothes into loads. His brights and darks were already all faded, and he only had a few whites, not enough to do a load with bleach. He just dumped the entire basket in the wash and put in some laundry sauce, starting the wash and bringing the basket back upstairs.

Roman stared around his room, not remembering what he was doing last. He paused and concerned if there was anything he needed to do. Probably clean his bedroom? There wasn’t much to pick up, just a few art supplies were out for some reason. He didn’t have that many things in his name to mess up. His loose stuff like old keepsakes or hobby items all fit in one drawer in the dresser, so it was easy to keep clean. But he should come back up to wipe off his desk with an all-purpose cleaner and dust. Roman yawned and returned downstairs for some water and to grab the cleaners.

He put away the filter pitcher and drank water, noticing his snack on the table. Oh. Roman chuckled to himself and sat down at the table, eating his four cheese biscuits and pizza sauce. He had completely forgotten he made them. They were at an edible temperature now, though. Convenient forgetfulness, for once.

After rinsing the dishes, Roman grabbed the duster and all-purpose cleaner to go handle his room. He dusted some shelves in the living room as he passed, just because he had noticed they were dusty and covered in dog fur. They mentioned they got a maid service once a month for that. How could Lita possibly produce this much wiry fur? Baffling. Roman headed upstairs to clean his bedroom.

Dusting the bookshelf in his room revealed that Lita must not come in here much since there was barely any dog fur on it compared to the downstairs. He was relatively certain Lita just napped in Thomas and Patton’s room until Patton appeared or something fun happened. Roman dusted off the books, his dresser, the desk, and the nightstand, then wiped down surfaces. There were plenty of eraser bits and broken pencil leads after the cluster-fuck of homework he had to do. Cleaning off the homework wreckage and such from the desk made it look much nicer, despite his pile of books and papers he hadn’t quite gotten around to organizing into something nicer looking yet. He organized his colored pencils by the rainbow in the organizer and took the cleaners back downstairs to put away.

What the hell was he doing again? Roman put the cleaners back on the shelf in the laundry room. He swore he was doing something. He had no idea what he was doing. The washer was going, which reminded him he started that. Maybe that was the thing. He clearly still had time to wait, though. Video games? Video games. Roman headed out to the living room and paused to make sure no one else was coming in to use the TV. Virgil didn’t reappear, and Thomas wasn’t even in his office. Seemed safe enough to him. There were quests to be had and demons to slay. Roman switched the TV input and turned on the game system to play, settling down on the floor in front of the TV to kick some lich ass.

Having free afternoons was a weird experience. Weirder than the forced days off, since he was kind of stuck in a room with Thomas for those. But this was totally up to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had so much free time completely to himself. It was… wrong? It felt wrong. But also nice. It was wrrice. No. That was dumb. Whatever. He had an amulet that unlocked a labyrinth. Fuck real life. He made sure he had enough healing items and repaired his armour, absolutely raring to go venture into it.

Something warm pressed into his thigh while he was fighting some goblins and jumped. He paused the game and glanced down. Lita had laid her head on his lap and was looking up to him pleadingly. Roman couldn’t help himself from melting a little and cooing, dropping his controller to scratch her behind her ears. Lita’s tongue bleped out and Roman could have died. He pet her a few times and she got up and trotted over to the back door and stared longingly at Roman. Roman got up to let her outside and followed her out. Lita bolted into the yard and ran it in three loops before stopping to sniff around near the tree in the backyard and used the restroom. She stuck her tongue out and happily cantered back over to the door. Roman headed back in and returned to his game when Lita went to go get some water.

Things in the labyrinth were going well, but they were intense. He went into a room that had a bunch of greater liches in it and he nearly bit the dust fighting them all. He got plenty of potions from the room, but it miffed him that he didn’t get something cool like a weapon or rare item. Single-handedly killing four evil wraiths at the same time should have at least gotten some new boots. He saved and continued forward, anyway.

“Hey, Roman,” He vaguely heard someone say while he was eyeballing a hallway that looked like it might have a trap.

“Hey,” Roman responded automatically. Traps meant the game was protecting something, probably. He was tempted. Roman made sure he healed up and put poison immunity on and headed down the hall. The poison immunity paid off, but he should have done something to resist fire damage since he killed three potions from all the burn damage. He was rewarded with a giant skeleton monster and a better sword, though. Vindication! He saved again and kept going forward.

“Do you want anything for dinner?” Someone asked and Roman chewed on his lip while he thought and killed a small army of evil rats.

“Roast boar would be helpful,” Roman suggested after pondering it for a second. He could use a fortitude boost right now. The rats didn’t do a lot of damage, but it was impossible to dodge them all.

“In the real world, Roman,” The voice sounded bemused. Oh shit. Roman paused the game and rubbed his incredibly dry eyes.

“Sorry,” Roman muttered, wishing for moisture to return to his burning eyes.

“It’s fine,” Thomas sighed and laughed a little. “I can relate, honestly. But I’m just about to cook dinner and want to know if anything sounds good,” He said genially.

“Oh, um, ask Virgil,” Roman supplied and rubbed his face again. When was the last time he blinked and how long were his eyebrows furrowed?

“Is there a reason you’re not wearing the gloves?” Thomas inquired. Roman turned around and saw Thomas leaning over the back of the couch. Roman froze and looked at his ungloved hands. Whoops.

“Uh, I forgot to put them back on, honestly,” Roman replied sheepishly. “I promise I didn’t freak out about anything while they were off, though,” Roman added. Well, maybe he did a little at school, but his arms were untouched, so he must not have panicked badly enough to do any damage. Gym class was stressful again. He hadn’t gotten back grades on his packets and he hadn’t attracted a random bully or anything yet, so things were mostly okay. The people in his morning English class even friended him on twitter. Though he hoped he had implied he took the gloves off more recently than after he got to school in the morning.

“All right. Do you mind putting them back on?” Thomas requested, sounding less peeved and more concerned. Roman nodded hastily and leaned back to get them out of his jeans pocket to slide them on. Thomas sighed with relief. “Just for my own mollification, show me your arms?” Thomas made a twisting motion with his finger. Roman turned around and held them straight out and rotated them for Thomas to see. Thomas smiled and nodded, apparently mollified. “Thanks. I appreciate you putting up with them for me. So, dinner? I already asked Virgil. I want to know if you want anything,” Thomas said pointedly.

“I’ll eat anything, it’s fine,” Roman said dismissively.

“I know you’ll eat anything, but I still don’t know what food you actually like to eat,” Thomas urged, looking inquisitively at Roman.

“I like your cooking. Patton’s is seasoned oddly sometimes, but it’s all been fine,” Roman replied with a small shrug.

“Patton’s cooking used to be significantly worse. I made him take a few cooking classes. He used to think five tablespoons was a reasonable amount of seasoning for anything. The grill incident wasn’t the only time we had to throw food out because we couldn’t eat it,” Thomas responded and shook his head with a light chuckle. Roman stared at Thomas in amazement. Did they actually throw out edible food?

“That… why?” Roman asked incredulously. “That’s… food,” Roman stammered out, completely baffled by this information.

“If it’s too disgusting to eat, then it’s too disgusting to eat,” Thomas raised his eyebrow and said something redundant.

“I can’t… even,” Roman felt like his mind was melted. If it was turned into a charcoal brick by a fireball, that was one thing. But trashing it just because something was seasoned badly? That didn’t make any sense.

“Okay,” Thomas drawled curiously. “Well, is there anything you hate then?” He inquired and motioned towards Roman.

“Um, there are some textures I don’t like, and I’m not a fan of brussel sprouts, but I won’t waste food,” Roman answered him, still feeling really confused.

“We had brussel sprouts last weekend, and you ate some,” Thomas said, furrowing his eyebrows at Roman. “Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked, looking upset.

“I already said I won’t waste food,” Roman repeated and looked curiously at Thomas.

“So say if Patton made peas and there was half a container of pepper flakes in it, you’d eat it?” Thomas posited incredulously, looking at Roman intensely.

“… Yeah?” Roman replied, not following what Roman was trying to get at. It was food. The texture from the flakes sounded awful, but he wouldn’t waste the food.

“You are a braver man than I. Okay, so. No brussel sprouts. What about those textures?” Thomas questioned and drummed his fingers on the couch.

“Oh, uh, how… Gritty stuff and stuff that is mushy when it… shouldn’t be? There are also some things that just sort of… hit my palette weird, but I don’t have any idea how to describe that,” Roman supplied. “It only makes me kind of sick, it’s fine, though,” Roman said, shaking his head.

“You shouldn’t force yourself to eat food that makes you sick, Roman,” Thomas said emphatically and leaned on his arm while he looked a little frustrated.

“I’m not that used to having options, Thomas,” Roman replied blithely and sighed. Even with the Finleys he just made what they bought him, and sometimes there wasn’t enough for him to eat a complete meal. He’d always take what he was given. It was better than starving.

“Kid, I swear every time you open your mouth I feel the need to hug you and tell you that things are going to be okay,” Thomas exhaled hard as he held his head and shook it lightly.

“I’m… sorry?” Roman apologized, not understanding what Thomas was trying to say. He didn’t know how Thomas put up with Roman annoying him all the time.

“It’s not your fault. Is there anything we’ve made you particularly liked?” Thomas asked, running his hand through his hair and seeming a little discouraged. Roman paused for a moment while he waited for a further reaction, but Thomas just exhaled and patiently looked to Thomas for an answer. He didn’t seem as frustrated anymore, and Roman loosened back up.

“That pizza you made was probably my favourite thing,” Roman responded brightly. “The stuffed chicken breasts were fantastic, too,” He added.

“It’s even better if we let the dough rest overnight,” Thomas said temptingly, holding up a finger.

“You’re kidding,” Roman eyed him curiously. He didn’t think he’d ever had pizza as amazing as Thomas’s in his life and he couldn’t comprehend how it could possibly be tastier.

“Nope. How about I make some tonight so we can have it for dinner tomorrow?” Thomas offered with a small smile.

“Show me how!” Roman nearly jumped up right there but caught himself, gripping at the floor.

“Only if you pick what’s for dinner tonight,” Thomas pointed at Roman. Roman chewed his lip. He didn’t know what to choose. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he grabbed one of his fingers nervously. “Too hard?” Thomas asked softly.

“I just don’t want… to pick wrong,” Roman admitted quietly. “What did Virgil say he wanted?” He inquired, hoping for at least a starting point.

“Spicy and crunchy,” Thomas reported. “Picking meals is hard for him, so he usually just gives flavours or something like that. I read that choice paralysis is common with PTSD. Is it the same for you?” Thomas prodded and looked pointedly at Roman. Roman rolled his eyes and sighed. He managed to not say ‘I’m fine’ this time, at least. Maybe it was true for Roman, maybe it wasn’t and he was just dumb.

“I, uh, I am completely blanking, to be honest,” Roman replied impassively, trying to think of dinner. He desperately wanted to learn how to make pizza dough. But he didn’t want to pick wrong.

“Yeah, I assume it would have to be some sides or something. We don’t have the stuff for the things I usually make when he asks for that,” Thomas shrugged, tilting his head to the side.

“Uh, tortilla soup?” Roman suggested. It was the easiest one to make of what he thought of. “I mean, it’s a bit hot for soup, but it’s spicy and crunchy,” He added a little sheepishly. Maybe that was stupid.

“Oh, that’s perfect! I didn’t think of that. We can make that quickly in the pressure cooker, even. We’ll chase it with ice cream to cool down. Pat will be pleased about that, honestly. Save the game and I’ll show you how to make the pizza dough,” Thomas smiled and stood up straight.

Roman nodded rapidly and turned back around to save the game as fast as it would let him. His knee bobbed impatiently while he waited for the saving screen to finish processing. He didn’t know how to bake bread, and pizza dough was probably the coolest place to start. Roman nearly tripped as he rushed into the kitchen after Thomas.

Personal Taglist: @bunny222 @elizabutgayer @prinxietyforever @kanene-yaaay-o-retorno @the-sympathetic-villain @croftersjam15 @ollyollyoxinfree @xytiiko

the taglist repository (ask to be removed):

High school: @dragonwithproblems @starlight-era @averykedavra @potatsanderssides

Roman Angst: @k1ngtok1

Hurt/Comfort: @callboxkat @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123

Roman-Centric: @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd

Fostering AU: @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll

literally everything sanders sides: @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @ananonsplace

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7cypher · 7 years ago

Text

Devil’s Advocate

You had met the devil on a hot summer day. He had shown up in a red polo, red cap, and white sneakers on his feet. That day, you had invited your devil into your home and he hasn’t left since.

▸ PAIRING: Park Jimin x Reader

▸ RATING & GENRE: PG-15 ; Fluff, Humor, Slight Angst, Devil AU

▸ WORD COUNT: 13,414 words

▸ A/N: This was supposed to be a small drabble but I got too excited HAHA so here’s Devil!Jimin and a lot of hell/demon puns :D do not attempt any summonings at home, kids.

The chill that snaked down your spine was almost immediate, shaking you awake from your drowsy state where you sat on your desk, biology book propped open in front of you. With your midterm coming up, the last thing you needed was the fucking heater to break down in the middle of your cramming session—soon to be an all-nighter.

However, you knew that something else was amiss when goosebumps rose on your skin. Instead of running cold in fear, your blood boiled with irritation. “Stop it, Jimin,” you whirled around, glaring at his presence tucked away in the corner of your room. His tail jerking around behind him almost like a sneer, wrapping around his lithe body as a smirk curled on his lips, devious, taunting. He had his arms crossed over his chest, showcasing the thick muscles hidden underneath his knitted sweater. “It’s fucking freezing,” you growled, “stop shutting off the heater.”

The devil—this was the literal devil—held his hands up in mock surrender, expression flattening into one of feigned nonchalance. “Didn’t even touch it, angel.”

He didn’t have to. You just knew it was him. Who else could it be? The only person who would put you through the miserable fate of a broken heater in the one night that the temperature fell below freezing, the night that you had to jam in all the information about mitosis and botany, was the devil himself. With a flick of his finger, he probably could have the entire city bathed in darkness, cutting off all electrical supplies and the last bit of your warmth just to piss you off. He had the tendency to mess with the circuits around your apartment. As hot as he was, Jimin was still an undeniably gigantic pain in your ass.

It wasn’t as if Santa had you permanently tattooed on his naughty list, but somehow the heavens—or hell—had sent the devil knocking straight to your front door. He had arrived a summer ago, in the blistering heat, in the form of a gorgeous pizza delivery boy. You hadn’t thought much of it then, hadn’t thought much of it when you invited him in as you reached for your wallet. He seemed like your average boy next door earning a little bit of bread over break.

Big mistake.

“Jimin,” you whined again, snatching up your blanket and bundling yourself up in it. You buried your face in the thick fabric, glaring at him from where you could see him. Your nose was beginning to freeze, your teeth chattering noisily. It was so cold. You couldn’t feel your toes nor your fingers anymore even as you attempted to clasp the material tighter around you. The drowsiness that nearly had you sleeping prior seemed to disappear with the drop of the bone-chilling temperature.

“You know,” he started again, completely unapologetic, and voluntary ignorant towards your torment. He moved to the bean bag and plopped down on it, stretching his arms wide in welcome. “You can always come here, cuddle with me. Got enough heat to go around.”

Yes, you were perfectly aware that he had enough heat because you had slept with the devil, like actually sleep, and nearly had your ass burnt when you woke up the next morning. The man might have immaculate control over his powers ninety eight percent of the time, but the periods in which he decided to opt for slumber he didn’t even need were the nights you suffered the most. Those nights, you would keep him out in the living room. Your roommate always pitied him, thinking that the two of you were caught in a lovers’ quarrel.

But you hated him everyday, every single wretched hour that he was there with you.

“O-over my dead body,” you bit back, teeth still shaking with the chill. The cold wind whipping outside was beginning to leak through the windows and walls, all the gaps it could slip through, to seep into your pores and piece iciness into your insides. Your tiled floors absorbed all the cold and radiated it to the bottom of your feet.

“At this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised,” he chuckled again, “but sorry, babe, necrophilia isn’t my thing.” No mercy. Then again, did you expect any less from the devil? Jimin kept his arms wide open, tempting you into his embrace that looked very, very warm. One of his eyebrows raised mockingly. “Come on, angel,” he cooed patronizingly.

“You’re an a-asshole.”

Jimin’s lips twitched again, mirth dancing in his eyes. “A hot asshole that you can’t get enough of.”

“Only because you won’t leave my fucking house,” you snapped right back. This wasn’t necessarily true. Ever since you invited him into your humble abode, he had frequented in the form of the innocent delivery boy who gave you a good time whenever he popped by. The two of you messed around all summer and it wasn’t long before the two of you became a Thing.

A Thing that never should’ve happened.

Sex with him was an adventure, Jimin somehow always finding ways to make you giggle and grin in bed. He was good—too good. So when you finally insisted on fucking with the lights on, you really couldn’t miss the stark red tail swishing behind him. You had screamed. Jimin had too. It seemed that for a second he forgot that he was 100% demon and it took quite some time for him to calm you and the knife in your hand down so you didn’t commit manslaughter. Jimin transported from place to place to apparently do his bidding for his master in the underworld, but ultimately stayed at your place for the most part.

This had been the beginning of your love-hate story with the devil. If you knew those stories where your enemy became your lover, this was the complete opposite. When he had told you that you were bound to him, that any actions on your part to harm him would also harm you, you wanted to tear your hair out because what the fuck have you gotten yourself into. He took it in a stride, checking his fingernails while your insides screamed with the need to boot him but also keep him in so you wouldn’t get hurt. Jimin started to make himself at home, even somehow managing to scour enough money every month to assist you with his share of rent (that, you definitely weren’t complaining about) and began to basically live there with you and your flatmate. Your flatmate—seeing how Jimin looked—definitely wasn’t complaining either.

Jimin wiggled his fingers teasingly again and shrugged, placing his hands on his lap this time. “I mean, up to you, babe.”

“You know, this is like illegal right,” you growled, shivering again, “tampering with building facilities and, I don’t know, binding me to you.” The cold was nipping at your toes and it felt as if they were about to break off any second. You were no Captain America and you kept wiggling them to ensure that they were still working in your period of misery.

“I’m not from around these parts,” he retorted casually because he had a fucking point. Of course. The law didn’t apply to him because he wasn’t even from earth, let alone this country. Jimin picked himself off the seat and strolled around the room, seeming perfectly at ease with the cold. You watched as he raised his hand and formed a small flame in his palm and letting it dance between his fingers. It was like a magic trick, a very plausible magic trick because he was capable of it. The man looked as if he was glowing, something close to ethereal, as he bounced the tiny fireball on his knuckles and allowing it to light his face with a soft, orange hue.

Tempting. You could almost feel that flame licking up your own skin, feel that delicious heat kissing every inch of you. Biting your lip, you wondered which one was worth saving—your actual life or your pride.

Jimin paused, the little ball fizzling out into nothing and leaving behind a swirl of smoke that evaporated into the air. “Changed your mind yet?” he pressed, opening his palms out to you.

Damn this man. Damn this man straight back to hell where he came from. Gritting your teeth, you swallowed your ego and muttered, “Fine, but just tonight. You’ve got to stop fucking with the air system in here. My roommate’s going to kill the landlord, she already hates him enough.”

“Your landlord is a dick, you have to admit,” he chuckled as you tucked into his side. The two of you settled back on the cushy seat, you on his lap and his arms cradling you tight. His temperature was infectious, engulfing you in this comfortable coziness that had you burying your face deeper into his chest. Jimin smiled at that, holding you even firmer against him and quickened his calefaction further to allow more warmth to enclose around you.

A small moan slipped past your lips at the sensation. The level of consolation his body offered in the dire circumstance was absolutely lovely. Tangling your legs between his, you relished in your blood finally flowing through your system. Color returned to your skin as you felt your limbs’ ability to move again return. “Damn,” you huffed, nuzzling your nose into his neck. He had a particularly higher level of heat there. “This is too nice.”

“I’ll bet,” he snorted. You could already picture the smug smirk on his face, obviously his self-esteem feeling accomplished that he had managed to get you to surrender yourself to him and your natural survival instincts. Smacking his chest without looking up at him, you leaned your head on his shoulder with a sigh. Jimin rubbed his hand along your arm. “Warm enough now?”

“Can you please stop messing with the heater now?” you groaned, “I really need to finish studying and I was already falling—” Oh. Well, the cold certainly woke you up, and you wondered if he did it specifically for that purpose. The thought was almost bittersweet.

Jimin drew you from your mind with his response, “You can always sleep with me.” Looking up, you found him grinning down at you with glittering eyes curving into crescents. If you didn’t know who—or what—he was, you would’ve still thought that he was adorable. He had the looks to have people coming after him, you’ve seen it before after all. But when the truth was revealed to you, you couldn’t quite ignore the irritation that nagged at you.

You flicked his forehead this time, scowling, “The last time we tried that, you almost set my bed on fire.”

Jimin at least had the decency to look sheepish at your statement. He could control his body temperature when he was awake, maintaining it at normal human levels. But when he let his consciousness slip into slumber, he tended to let his body have free reign, which meant that he was adjusting himself to hell’s temperature. His body had been incalescent, so much so that you had felt the scorching against your skin like the blazing fury of the sun. Throwing him off the bed seemed like the most logical solution at that point, and he certainly wasn’t guiltless of nearly roasting you to your death.

“Fair,” he murmured, “it just gets lonely sleeping out here.”

Although you weren’t too happy with his presence in the house, you weren’t completely free from contrition for subjecting him to the loneliness of the couch in the nighttime. After that incident with his body nearly lighting yours up to flames, you swore to never again allow you to sleep in the room unless absolutely necessary. Plus, he didn’t exactly need sleep.

“Maybe once you learn to control it, I’ll scoot a little to give you space in my bed.”

“You’re all heart,” he beamed. For a brief second, you could ignore the fact that he was Satan’s spawn and imagine that he was like any other college kid. Any other college kid who had hellish (get it? ha ha) looks and any other college kid who could—you know—send the entire world to its impending apocalyptic state.

You grunted, finally feeling snug enough to release him. “Please fix it,” you said, gaze darting over to the heater puttering quietly.

Jimin pouted, displeased. “But then you’ll stop cuddling,” he whined.

“Jimin,” you matched his tone, “I have class tomorrow. I need to finish up studying then sleep.”

His lips twisted sourly, knowing that you had a point. Jimin could be a dick, but he was considerate when he needed to be, so he sighed and snapped his fingers. Almost instantly, warmth returned to the room and you breathed a sigh of relief, curling your toes to make sure that this really was working.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

You returned to your desk to finish up your studies for the night, packing in the last bits of information that you needed for the next day. Only when you yawned and started packing your things up did he stand, readying himself for another night outside in the common area. Just as he was about to leave, he turned around one last time. “For your information, I didn’t really fuck with the heater this time, it really was the building.” His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. “I know you’ve got an exam tomorrow, I wouldn’t do it if I knew you had things due.”

His words had you halting your movements, observing in mild surprise as he padded out to the living room. Considering how often he did it, your automatic inclination was to pin the blame on him. But your building was pretty old, barely anything worked, so you should’ve figured. This implied that he was using his capabilities to heat up the room at that very moment. You could feel remorse eating at you when you saw him through the open crack of your door trying to get comfortable on the couch, grunting and hitting the material as if that would make it softer. Slipping through the gap, you drifted over to him and leaned down, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” you repeated in a whisper and pulled away to quickly move back into the room before he could respond, closing the door behind you. Your heart was being annoyingly loud and you bit your lip as if to keep yourself from blushing too hard.

“Night, angel!” he called out from outside.

“Goodnight.”

The strange thing about knowing and living with the devil was realizing how normal everything was. If you skimmed past him in the streets, he could easily pass as a face in the crowd. Although his natural eye color was ruby red, tidbit courtesy of Jimin who had shown it to you in the hopes of impressing you, he could easily shift them to something more common like brown to avoid standing out. His looks? Grade A. Nothing inhumanly incredible, but he did look attractive enough to catch the wandering eyes of every single female on campus. He was your average estrogen magnet.

Jimin had his ways of hiding the fact that he was Satan’s offspring. He knew how to dress like every other human, quickly picking up styles from magazines he found scattered around your apartment (you had your fashion major roommate to thank for those). He might have even fit into your university better than you did.

Whenever you went to lectures, he would tail after you and disappear amongst the masses in your giant classroom. The two of you would slip into a pair of seats, Jimin would reel in the attention of nearby students admiring him from a safe distance, and you would be trying to get your shit together while also ignoring the fact that the devil was next to you. Staying awake and listening during classes was hard enough as it was, but add Jimin to the mix, it was hell on earth. Sitting still seemed to be an impossible feat for him and you would find his hands wandering to items on your own desk, plucking them off the table and fiddling with them. He would tap a pencil rhythmically against the plastic armrest or balance a pen between his lips and nose as he leaned back against his seat. Other times, when he was feeling extra frisky, his hand would instead lose itself on your thigh, especially on days you had a skirt on, creeping up the exposed skin and trying to get his nimble fingers past your panties.

“Jimin,” you hissed, glaring at him as you swatted his hand away. He jutted out his bottom lip petulantly, hand remaining warm on your bare thigh. His mischievous hand would continue to rub your smooth skin slowly, running his heated palm along the insides of your thighs.

Blushing, you tried to quietly pry his fingers off but he only offered you a tiny smirk, an indication of his victory. If there was anything Jimin adored more than being a gigantic foot up your ass, it would be making you flustered, particularly in public places where everyone could see the two of you shifting around.

The professor cleared his throat up front, peering over the rim of his thin glasses with his beady eyes, and your gaze quickly flew to where he stood, noting how the rest of the class also had their eyes trained on the pair of you. Fuck. Wincing, you managed to shove Jimin’s hand off you in his momentary state of distraction. “Would you be so kind to share what the ruckus is about up there?” the man spoke, his voice sounding like blaring alarms to your need to remain invisible in the hall.

You gritted your teeth and prayed that the apologetic look on your face looked genuine enough. Jimin laughed quietly under his breath, ducking his head to hide his stupid grin. You crossed your legs and kicked his knee. That earned a satisfying yelp out of him. “Sorry, Professor, dropped my pencil,” you said. The man gave you one last suspicious look before turning to face the board again.

Just as he turned his back to the class, you nabbed Jimin’s ear and dragged him close towards you. “Listen,” you sneered, “if you’re going to be a pain, I’m going to lock you in the room.”

Jimin only grinned.

As if your academics wasn’t enough for him to dip his hand into, Jimin also had the tendency to slip and slide into your workplace with too many distractions. Being a college student meant that you needed to stay on budget, and on days you wanted to splurge a little more, you would save up from your part-time job at the library. Shelving books and checking them in were tedious tasks, but they were tasks that paid, so you sucked it up. The only thing you couldn’t suck up was Jimin following you around.

The first time he had followed after you into the building, he had begged you for something to entertain him. Even when you told him that the head librarian was shooting looks at the two of them, he still wouldn’t budge. So you had given him the Bible and told him to repent. Poor taste in jokes, you supposed. Jimin had given you a glare to bring down the wrath of hellfire upon you. He had hissed and slapped the holy text away as if it had burned him. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Oh. That was an interesting piece of information that had you lighting up. “It can do that?”

Jimin had narrowed his eyes at you, a challenge in the clench of his jaw. “Try me.”

You did and you had never regretted an action so fast. Jimin was never one to leave you without repercussions so, the entire time you worked on returning books to their places, Jimin began messing with the piles you had already organized, adding hours to a task that could have been done in minutes. Safe to say, the two of you had bitterly admitted that you were both at fault after a severe scolding from the head librarian.

“Don’t you have that book to read?” you huffed this time around, shoving another thick volume amongst its friends. Another day, another book.

“The one you gave me last week?” he tilted his head questioningly, “I finished it already.”

To keep him out of your hair, you always gave him books to consume, thick classics that he had never touched before where he was from. Apparently, hell was filled with books on horrific torture methods and historic accounts of war, but never fictional masterpieces. “How did you finish it so fast?” you queried curiously.

“It wasn’t that hard, you should see the shit I have to study,” he huffed, “do you have anything else for me? Word’s been going around about this book that went viral from an online author or something. People talk about it a lot.”

You paused, holding a novel in your hand and frowning, “What book?”

“Dunno, heard it was being turned into a movie. Something with grey or whatever,” Jimin shrugged, running his fingertips lightly over the wide spines of maroon encyclopedias, over the golden linings and engravings on the shelf.

Snorting, you quirked an eyebrow, “Fifty Shades of Grey? Who have you been hanging out with?”

“Hoseok from Papa’s Pizzas.”

Go figure. “You should never listen to Hoseok,” you rolled your eyes, “he still thinks you’re from Australia because you said down under when he asked you where you’re doing your exchange from, and thinks you’re absolutely clueless about American literature as a whole.” Hoseok loved toying with Jimin because, the first time they met, Jimin had left a lasting impression when he kept asking about erotica. “Anyway, I hardly think Fifty Shades counts as literature.”

He smirked, “He read me snippets from it, a little too explicit for my taste.”

“Never thought I’d ever hear those words leave your mouth,” you huffed then led him down another row of books. You scanned over the letters for the title you were looking for before finally spotting it and pulling it out of the collection. Handing it over to him, you awaited his reaction.

“Shakespeare again?” he moaned.

“You never finished Macbeth.”

Scowling, he turned the cover over in his hands to glimpse at the summary. “Everyone just went crazy, that’s no fun.”

“What is fun?”

“Sex.”

You shot him a look and pushed your cart down the aisle again. Jimin, with his hip, bumped you out of the way and you let the cart’s handles slip from your hands as he took over. He moved the trolley stacked with dozens of books with significantly less effort than you had required. You tried not to be too grateful. “You didn’t want to read Fifty Shades.”

“That’s because the writing sucked. I want like good erotica.”

“I hardly think the school library caters to your sexual needs,” you retorted, picking up another publication and returning it in alphabetical order.

“You have very little faith and knowledge about your library,” he grinned, eyes twinkling, “erotica slash romance section is upstairs, third floor. They’re using it for psychology classes apparently.”

Maybe you should be taking those classes, might be interesting. Then again, if Jimin entered, there would be no doubt that he would participate in those seminars and show off his supposed sexual prowess.

“Anyway, where are you going for dinner tonight? I’m craving pizza!” he beamed.

“I can do pizza,” you nodded, “I get off at six. Should I meet you there?”

“I can wait for you here,” he hummed, waving the thin read in the air, “got a new book after all.”

“Said you didn’t like Shakespeare.”

He shrugged, “You recommended it so I’m hoping it’ll be better than the last.”

Why did he always do that? Just when you thought that you couldn’t loathe anything more than Park Jimin, he pulled off a sweet line that had your heart skipping a beat. With that said, he whistled quietly as he wandered down the shelves to find a comfortable spot to read in. You simmer down the warmth brewing in your stomach and focused on your job instead.

Bills to pay, bills to pay.

The pizza parlor Jimin had worked at was a go-to location for midnight runs and greasy cravings. Serving anything that would put you one step closer to a heart attack, Papa’s Pizzas was the ultimate college student spot. The diner was decorated in old-fashioned 1950’s style with checkered floors covered in scuff marks, sleek metallic counters stretching across the diner complemented by red stools, and booths with ruby seating lining the windows. Also Papa from Papa’s Pizzas couldn’t be denied considering how daddy the owner, Seokjin, looked. The logo? The man of the hour, Seokjin, himself winking.

Jimin’s former coworkers were always more than happy to host him, practically reserving a seat of honor for every time he graced them with his presence. Sometimes, you weren’t sure whether he bewitched them with a little touch of manipulation (could he do that?), or whether he was naturally charming. He was perhaps a little bit of both.

You once asked Jimin why he even considered working there when he had no need for sustenance. Jimin could go days without eating and food was mere entertainment for him rather than an actual necessity. “I like it,” he had grinned, “the atmosphere is lit—” a word he learned courtesy of Hoseok “—and it makes me feel more human.”

Jimin’s answer had left you a little speechless, a little confused on how to react to such an intriguing confession. He hadn’t expanded further and had left it at that. You didn’t press either. Taking another chomp out of his slice, Jimin grinned through his mouthful. “I can’t believe how much pizza you had ordered in the summer just to keep me coming back around.”

Your wince was almost immediate. A dark past, a time you would rather leave behind, a walk down nostalgia lane you’d rather steer clear of. You had been more than a teensy bit attracted to the pizza delivery boy slash unknown demon at the time, and so had your fair share of pizza that summer. The few pounds you gained from that experience was worth the final result when he finally fucked you into your bed. Plus, all those calories were quickly burned off when Jimin was almost around every single day — with or without pizza.

“How the tables have turned,” you rolled your eyes and tossed a fry at him. The man flung himself slightly forward to snatch the piece between his teeth. Dog.

“At least I got a lot of tips from it,” he wiggled his eyebrows, laughing, reminding you that your gratitude had been given in the form of quick blowjobs and fucks whenever your roommate wasn’t around. Good times.

You blushed, flinging another piece of crust his way. “That was a long time ago, you dick, now I hate you.”

Jimin snorted, wiggling his food at you mockingly before shoveling it into his mouth. Sometimes you wondered how he could stuff that much food inside of him when he didn’t even need eat. Did he even have a digestive system? Organs? Aside from, you know, reproductive. “Yeah, say that to my dick that you were bouncing on last night,” he scoffed proudly.

A woman walking by showed her obvious disgust as she breezed past them, heels clacking against the tiles. Rude eavesdropper. Shut up,” you hissed, eyes darting around the establishment. Students from the university frequented this place and the last thing you needed was Jimin running his mouth on your sexual pursuits even if it was with him.

He only offered a laugh again, but provided no further extension to the conversation. Something strange and sweet twisted in your stomach. You chose to ignore it as you always did.

You huffed, propping your chin up on your palm and licking your lips. While Jimin continued to devour his second pizza, you had just cleaned off your plate, feeling pleasantly full. “So, have you always been like—” you gestured at him “—I don’t know, evil?”

Jimin sucked on his fingers, an action that had you squeezing your thighs together. He pulled them out with small pops each time. He crossed his arms over his chest then leaned forward, placing them on the table. “Do you mean to ask if I was born as the devil or if I was turned?”

“Pretty much.”

“Not sure,” he sighed, “I sort of lost bits and pieces of my memory so I figured I was turned. Then again, I could’ve been born and bred there and just not remember hell. Pretty shit from what I’ve heard.” A small smirked curved on his lips. Your heart did a weird flip.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, hiding a grin. “You seem to have a lot of daddy issues I’m surprised you haven’t asked me to call you that yet.”

Jimin giggled, his eyebrows jumping again. “Do you want to? I prefer you screaming my name, but I’m open to experiment.”

“What about Jesus Christ?” you asked, blinking innocently as the sacred name slipped past your lips all too easily.

But Jimin glared at you, growling. You smirked, accomplished. He squirmed uncomfortably, clutching his chest as if he had been burned there. “You’re going to get it tonight.”

And you did when you had to drag Jimin’s ass into the room to become your personal heater and help you sleep again, because he broke the heater. Again.

Jimin’s antithesis came in the shape of one Kim Taehyung, whom you deemed to be a literal angel — no, wait, sorry, he was just a figurative angel. Literal took a different meaning when you knew the actual devil. You weren’t quite sure if the heavens sent Taehyung down to balance Jimin’s appearance in your life, but he sure as hell was doing better.

Now, Jimin — he didn’t deal well with competition. Taehyung, being a godsend, was automatically regarded as his archenemy. Whenever the taller boy was around you, hovering behind you or engulfing you in a hug somewhere on campus, Jimin would pout. That pout would remain on his face for as long as Taehyung was around. The devil had labeled Taehyung as their official third wheel despite your continuous reassurance that Taehyung was just a friend.

It wasn’t as if he was being discreet either. Taehyung caught on to the glares tossed his way or the petty bumping of shoulders that Jimin gave him. He didn’t quite mind it, but was rather amused by how whiny Jimin became around you. The man practically lived with you, that was all he knew about the extent of your relationship. Taehyung certainly didn’t know that you were bound to the devil himself after the first time he slipped right into you. Thus, he was always there in the background, lurking, and cursing Taehyung internally whenever he was around (but not actually because even his thoughts could have an effect on real life).

“Your boyfriend doesn’t like me very much,” Taehyung noted during your preparation for dinner. Inviting the two for a sit down meal seemed like the best option at the time to solve any discrepancies, but the second Taehyung stepped foot into the room, Jimin had almost hissed at him like a serpent. So you sent him out on alcohol duty to cool off.

You were about to clarify to Taehyung that Jimin wasn’t really your boyfriend, but that would only raise unnecessary questions you didn’t have the answers to. “He doesn’t like a lot of people, he’s an asshole that way,” you instead explained simply.

Taehyung didn’t question it further. Dinnertime was relatively uneventful and you were more than appreciative for Jimin’s attempts to be accommodating. Though, that might also have something to do with the fact that you had made the meal he was consuming. Even homemade meals produced good results for the demon.

The three of you had tipped back a few mixes thanks to Taehyung who was teaching himself how to make cocktails. The concoctions were delicious, even Jimin couldn’t deny that. You opened your mouth to curiously ask if demons could get drunk, but quickly remembered that Taehyung was still there none the wiser. Instead, the tallest suggested, “Wanna go to a club? We can finish the last of this vodka to pregame then head out.”

You mulled over it for a second, tilting your head from side to side with the pleasant buzz in your brain. “Mm, that sounds good to me,” you hummed then turned to your quote unquote boyfriend, “Jimin?”

Knowing Jimin, you easily deduced that he would have to agree. There was no way in hell he was going to let you go clubbing with Taehyung alone. Who knows what dangers the man could put you up to? As if Jimin himself wasn’t the most hazardous thing in the vicinity at that moment. “I guess,” he muttered.

So the three of you ended up swallowing back shots to finish off the alcohol, Taehyung shaking the rim to his tongue to get the very last drop. “Fuck,” he groaned, “alright, I’m fucking ready.” By the time the three of you had piled into an uber and was heading straight to one of the clubs Taehyung frequented ( “place is always fucking lit” ), all of you were a little bit tipsy—well, at least you were. But it was all in good fun. Before you left, Jimin was only planning to leave the house in a sweater and a cap. That didn’t sit right in your muddled mind considering how cold it was outside.

“Wait,” you had stopped him, stumbling over to your bedroom and nabbing a few things. When you returned to the room, Taehyung was singing some BIGBANG song while Jimin stared quizzically at you, concern imprinted in the creases on his forehead. You swathed him with a thick scarf around his neck, clumsily covering his face up to his nose then, ensuring that Taehyung was distracted, yank his cap off his head and shoved on a beanie.

“What’s this about?”

You squinted at him, assessing his appearance. Yep, looked good. Then again, when did he not? “Be weird to have a cap, plus it’s cold out and a beanie would work better.”

Jimin opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind at the very last second and instead smiled gratefully at you, leaning forward to smack a quick kiss on your lips. You jerked away, bewildered. “Thanks, babe,” he grinned.

Before you could process the situation further, your thoughts were pulled to a halt. “Let’s go!” Taehyung giggled and fumbled out the door.

The building looked pretty nice, glowing neon sign, security up front that patted the three of you down thoroughly. Thankfully, they let Taehyung through despite his clearly too inebriated state. Taehyung headed straight to the bar first, ordering a round of shots. “First round’s on me!” he announced proudly, before clinking your glasses together and tossing them back. All of you hissed with the burn but felt the pleasant buzz hum almost immediately. Taehyung grabbed both your hands, yanking the both of you towards the dance floor. “Fuck, let’s dance!” he giggled, flinging his arms into the air.

This was Taehyung—the life of the party. He was already having the time of his life five minutes in. You yourself were having a great time, it was hard not to with the beat pulsing through the speakers, bass thrumming in your veins. Grinding up against people was common practice, but Jimin was quick to cage you in possessively, hands on your hips and his front pressed against your back. Guys who tried to approach you retreated instantly at the sight of Jimin’s threatening scowl. Jimin made sure to keep you close, running his wet lips along the curve of your neck. He left no room for Jesus between the two of you with the way he was rubbing up against you. “So close, Jimin,” you smirked, “never knew you could dance.”

He hummed in your ear, nipping the shell lightly with his teeth as his hands roamed your sides, over the arches of your body. “Lot of things you don’t know about me, angel. Plus, I can’t stand the idea of anyone else having their hands on you like this.”

You couldn’t deny that his proprietorial words sent thrills shooting through your veins. Slick sweat began to layer your skin with the humidity packed into the venue and you reached your hand back to tangle in Jimin’s soft locks. “Touchy, touchy,” you grinned lasciviously up at him.

“I don’t like seeing him around,” Jimin suddenly muttered, voice dipping a pitch lower, “Taehyung.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you turned around, setting your hands on his shoulders as you continued to move your hips in sync with his and the music. “I see you everyday already.”

“I don’t like how sticky he is with you.” At times, you wondered if Satan had dropped the wrong son on earth, on you, because Jimin could be a little childish at time. His complaints tending to be immature little comments that made him seem almost human.

You sighed, looking up at him with an expression that might’ve been along the lines of pity. “Jimin, you do realize that we’re not actually dating.”

“A man can dream,” he said. A look passed over his eyes, but before you could name it, he was already smirking, tugging you closer to him. “And didn’t your mother ever tell you not to dance with the devil?”

You shrugged, flashing him the same teasing grin. “I never listened well to my mother anyway, why start now?”

A moan escaped his throat as he ducked his head to rasp in your ear, “Fuck, I really wanna take you back and fuck you seven ways ’til Sunday.”

Shit. You wanted that too, you really did. “There’s a bathroom,” you panted, feeling his boner pressing up against your thighs. Jimin didn’t waste a beat before taking your hand and leading you there.

It wasn’t the best location, but at least Jimin kept his promise.

Waking up the next morning was like a downpour of regrets coming down on you all at once. The pounding in your head was incessant, and the soreness between your thighs throbbed. You groaned, burying yourself back underneath your thick blankets. Hearing the door creak open, you peeked to see Jimin standing there, worry etched onto his face, but most important of all, looking perfectly fine.

Of course the devil didn’t get hangovers—he created them.

“I officially hate my life,” you moaned, twisting in your bed.

A dip in the mattress had you looking up again and Jimin was chuckling at you, shoulders shaking lightly. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you tossed at him, voice a little too loud that you instantly felt that hit of remorse in the form of a piercing ring in your head.

“Got you these,” Jimin said instead, plopping down a few items by your bedside table. There was a bottle of sports drink glowing a neon color, coffee from the shop nearby, juice, bananas, and a package of store-bought soup. “Wasn’t sure what drink you liked for hangovers but your roommate said you like this brand. Figured I’d get you coffee too just in case.”

That was an impressively prepared spread, especially for something as temporary as a hangover. You usually recovered pretty quickly if you slept enough during the day, but you still stared at Jimin in awe, because this was… sweet. That was an understatement.

“I, um, wow—” you blinked, dumbstruck “—thank you for all of… this. It’s—just thank you.”

Jimin grinned, the kind of smile that had his cheeks puffing up, teeth glowing, and eyes disappearing. Your stomach did a funny flip—not the one that made you want to hurl your guts out, but the one that made your cheeks flush and your heart beat a bit faster. “No problem, just wanna make sure you don’t end yourself you know.”

“Oh right, ‘cause we’re bound,” you rolled your eyes, “gotta make sure the prince of hell doesn’t die out of alcohol poisoning.”

His lips twitched again, “Right, because of the bond. Anyway, get some more sleep, you could use it. You can wake up when you feel better.”

“I’m fine,” you groaned, but the sudden hammering in your head had you leaning back against the headboard of your bed.

“I rest my case,” he grinned proudly, forcing you back underneath your blanket. He leaned down and pecked your forehead, “Sweet dreams, angel.” You didn’t think that Jimin’s sentiment could’ve done anything, especially not since he was a man made of nightmares, but you slept soundlessly. Your sheets sucked you in and swallowed you into the deep realm of slumber, allowing you to rest with thoughts of a man’s sweet smile for just a tad longer.

When you woke up hours later, it was as if you had been reborn, feeling rejuvenated from the hell you had been through. You stretched and felt your muddled mind clear somewhat as you walked over to your door, expecting Jimin to still be around.

And you were right. Only, he wasn’t alone.

Your roommate was leaning over the stove next to him, distance too close for comfort. You stiffened at the sight and made no move to make your existence known. They were talking in hushed whispers, hands moving. Something akin to irritation boiled inside you and you tried to tamp it down by gritting your teeth together, telling you to calm down. What was he even doing? Why was he standing so close? Was he trying to bind her too?

“Oh, you’re awake.”

The voice pulled you away from your overflowing vexation, instead letting it simmer quietly. You grunted, “Yeah.” Rubbing your arms as if to warm yourself up from the nonexistent chill in the room, you leaned against your doorframe and watched them from afar.

Jimin turned around there, surprised to see you and offered a smile, “Good afternoon, sleepyhead.”

“What are you guys doing?” Stupid. You had tried to keep your annoyance out of your voice, but it somehow had leaked into your tone—you could only hope they would blame it on your drowsiness and recovery state.

However, judging by the way your roommate’s lips quirked up in amusement, you had a feeling that she knew, which only proved to fuel your irritation. “Jimin here,” she patted his shoulder for good measure, “asked me how to make you hangover soup.”

That had your frown ceasing. “Oh.”

“Not the best chef as you can see,” he chuckled. It was then you noticed that he had slipped on an apron and had a ladle in hand. It was strangely domestic and endearing at the same time. “But it’s finished and hopefully it’s good enough.”

Jimin quickly ushered you to a seat as your roommate disappeared into her own room. He poured a steaming bowl and set it before you. The broth smelled scrumptious and its contents, vegetables and meat, floating around in the mouthwatering dish. You spooned a little bit and blew on it to cool it down before putting it in your mouth. The first touch of the stock on your tongue was almost an immediate cure to all of your life’s problems. It was flawlessly prepared with the right amount of seasoning and filling—the meat soft and tender, vegetables boiled to the right texture.

“Wow,” you murmured, “I really didn’t know you had it in you.”

The man beamed as he settled down next to you, nerves seemingly gone with your positive response. “Yeah? Well, I did.” You rolled your eyes at him and slurped another spoonful. “Hey, let me try.”

You let a small portion cool before lifting the spoon to his mouth, letting his plump lips envelop it. He smacked his lips together, nodding in approval. “Good?” you smirked.

“Really good, maybe I should quit this whole demon business and become a chef.”

“Mm,” you hummed, “I think you’d make more money as a model or something. Face too pretty to hide in the kitchen.”

He gasped, leaning towards you with a sparkle in his eye. “Did I just hear a compliment? Did you just call me pretty?”

“First and last time, bub,” you grunted, flicking his forehead, “don’t get used to it.”

That night, as you readied yourself for bed and Jimin prepared his own fort in the living room, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to his broad frame trying to squeeze into the tight space. You found yourself stepping out with a reluctant bite of your lip. Jimin eyed your presence with interest, quirking an eyebrow. “Hey,” you coughed, “do you want to maybe sleep together tonight?” His eyes widened even more. You blushed, looking away, “It’s just colder in the room right now.”

“I can always turn the heater up,” Jimin grinned teasingly, wiggling his fingers at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fine, just—”

“I’m kidding!” he leapt, tossing his arms around you as he waddled you back into the room, not once releasing you from his hold, not until the two of you landed on your bed in a fit of giggles. Jimin bundled you up in his arms, nuzzling his nose in your neck, pulling laughter from your lips. “Mmm, doesn’t this feel nice?” he hummed, tucking the two of you underneath the blanket.

He draped an arm around your waist and brushed his nose against yours. You scrunched up your face in fake disgust. “You’re too close, it’s too warm now.”

“I can always make my body colder,” he grinned, “pick the right temperature and I’ve got you, angel.”

Right. You rolled your eyes, “You’re too perfect, you know that? Like, I thought the devil was supposed to be mean, but you put on an apron to make hangover soup. What kind of demon does that?”

“You don’t like it?” he cocked an eyebrow, knowing full well what your answer was.

“Shut up and go to sleep, demon,” you grunted, burying your face in his chest and closing your eyes. You felt warmth touch your forehead, the plushness of his lips soft against your skin.

“Night, angel.”

It had been a step forward. Progress. Knowing that Jimin was actually nice had initially left a bitter aftertaste in your mouth, because that wasn’t how the world worked, was it? Devils were not supposed to be the good guys, weren’t supposed to make your heart flutter and your lips stretch into smiles so wide that your cheeks began to ache.

But he was always there—ever present and ever sweet. Maybe you could finally admit to yourself that Jimin had carved a place in your heart where he tucked himself into, permanently engraving himself into your existence. The more time you spent with him, the more you understood that he was almost like any other man trying to comprehend the complex, preexisting world a little bit more. Jimin had come in like a whirlwind in your peaceful town, leaving his imprints on every soul he has encountered. You just never thought that one day you would have to watch him let all of it go.

And for it to be your fault.

It was one day when your classes ended slightly later than usual. Cursing your professor all the way to the library, you mentally counted how many minutes you had lost in your work hours that you could’ve piled up. When you stepped into the study area where you were assigned, you spotted Jimin there like he was every Wednesday during your shift. He had your beanie on again, practically claiming it as his ever since you first lent it to him, always whining whenever you tried to take it back.

( you secretly liked it but you kept that to yourself )

Jimin’s appearance during your shift was already expected, his attendance a weekly ritual, at times even daily. He wouldn’t mind hanging around the library, sticking his nose into books you had suggested to him. The one time he hadn’t shown up, you had actually gotten worried and called him. He never let you live that down, but showed up religiously afterwards.

His looks did draw people in, but he rarely ever regarded them with anything more than common courtesy for your sake (he hated it when people approached him to disturb his reading time, but you had told him to stop snarling at everyone). However, that particular day, there was someone else with him—a girl. You recognized her as one of Jimin’s former colleagues at the pizza parlor where he used to work and she was giggling at something he said, inching closer to him and nosing her face too close to him to peek into the book he had popped open (it was Dracula by Bram Stoker, a book you recommended — “this is the closest to the evil reference humans have for now”).

You felt a sudden bite of resentment, dare you say a nip from the green-eyed monster inside of you. Your skin crawled with the sensation, your chest tightening and had you holding in your breath. Instead of reacting upon it, you figured it would be better to just ignore it—yeah, just kick it and hope that it went away. Sighing at your own immaturity, you headed straight for your station at the check-out desk.

Jimin watched you breeze past him and you didn’t even give him a single second to bid you welcome. Perhaps it was petty, but you would rather maintain a safe distance rather than let your jealousy get the best of you. Though, it was difficult not to let your displeasure show when that girl was still there. All throughout your shift, you stamped books a little too loudly and clicked a little too aggressively to mask the sound of the girl’s laughter. Whenever you looked up, you would catch Jimin’s glances.

Are you okay, angel?

You let out a small yelp at the sound in your mind, squeezing your eyes shut. For a second, you thought your imagination was toying with you. But directing your gaze in Jimin’s direction confirmed what you had suspected. Jimin had the ability to communicate with you through his mind, an action he rarely did because he knew how much it irritated you to hear him inside your head. You hated it, hated how uncomfortable it made you. It was as if he was prying into your thoughts and leaving his there. Gritting your teeth, you didn’t grace him with a response and only offered a glare.

Jimin seemed to take the hint much to your slight disappointment. You wanted him to get up and talk to you, spend a little time with you instead of that girl. It really was trivial jealousy, but you had never been one to deal well with your anger—not when it always led to saying things you regret one way or another.

As you packed up later that evening, shoving all your belongings into your backpack, you observed Jimin moving away from the girl and saying his farewells. A part of you felt relieved that he was still going to you, but a bigger part of you was holding onto your exasperation towards him. Even as you walked out the front doors, he kept tailing after you, asking you incessantly why you weren’t responding to anything he was saying.

“God, shut up,” you growled, whirling around when you finally reached your place. JImin had been yakking your ear off the entire walk back and your patience had thinned quickly.

“Why are you ignoring me then?” Still playing the cute act.

You only huffed and turned away from him, shrugging off your coat and tossing it to the couch. “I’m not. Just stop whining.”

“But you are.”

“If you want some attention, why don’t you go ask that girl for it?” you snapped right back.

Crap. Your fury had bested you and you had basically played yourself right into his trap. When the realization dawned upon him, his lips curled slowly, agonizingly, into a grin. You wanted to smack him. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?” he teased, his tail let loose behind him. It flicked around the air like it always did whenever he was excited. His eyes were glittering with absolute delight, which annoyed you even more.

“Piss off, I’m not,” you pushed his hands off your waist.

Jimin tucked himself behind you, grinning as he pressed a kiss on the back of your shoulder. “Don’t worry, angel, I won’t kiss and tell.”

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” you grunted, attempting to shrug him off. “You’re just so insufferable.”

“Yet you like me anyway,” he sang.

That was it. All he did was tease you, taking your feelings so lightly. He could’ve had anyone he wanted, but he kept messing with you, playing with your head. For a while, you had believed that he could be the one, a man who made you believe that the world wasn’t that clear cut. He was the devil, but he had been so kind to you the past few weeks that you almost forgot what he really was.

Not anymore..

“I don’t even know why you’re here!” you finally broke, whipping around to push him off you. “You’re keeping me bound against my will. What—Christ, what have I ever done to you? Why can’t you just let this go?”

“I—” Jimin stood there, incredulity and hurt painted on his face as he blinked in confusion “—I’m sorry?”

You snorted. All the pent-up rage you had bottled up for the past few hours finally spilling. Once you started, you couldn’t stop the word vomit from coming out. “No, you're really not. You think this is all a game, that I'm just your—your plaything or something. Newsflash, Jimin, nobody likes their soul fucking bound to the fucking devil.”

His expression withered into impassiveness, unreadable. His ability to switch his emotions on and off in that moment only added to your fury. While you wore your heart on your sleeve, Jimin could always somehow stay composed, always distance himself from you whenever he wanted to. He opened his mouth, voice quiet, “You really hate having me around that much?”

Laughing, you swallowed the thick lump in your throat. “I like to have options, Jimin, but you never gave me any. This is all fun and games for you, but this is my life.”

In that moment, a flicker of emotions passed through his face, all too fast for you to identify. You weren’t quite sure what to say when you saw a brief second of pain flash across his eyes. It wasn’t as if you hated having him around, because you didn’t, but if the opportunity to be released from this tie presented itself, you weren’t sure what you would choose.

“Guess you’re right,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. His admittance had you stricken, staring at him in surprise. Then he lifted his fingers to the air and snapped it. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. He stood before you. And— “You’re free.”

What? You couldn’t move a muscle, your entire body paralyzed with the blow of his actions. This was it, wasn’t it? This was what you wanted. This was what you’ve been waiting for all this time. He gave you an out. But the first word you uttered was: “W-what?”

Jimin shrugged, straightening his posture and looking at you straight in your eyes. His eyes seemed dead, cold. It was as if he was there but his mind was far off. “You’re free,” he repeated, “I don’t want to be bound to an unwilling victim. I’ll take my chances somewhere else.”

And just like that, he disappeared before your eyes. No theatrics, no smoke in the air or any remaining hints of him except for the faint trace of his scent. He was gone.

The strange thing about knowing and living with the devil was realizing how normal everything was—and you didn’t realize until he was gone how strange everything was without him.

Countless days you had spent by his side seemed to be a thing of the past, a forgotten bittersweet memory left behind when you decided that this was for the best. Jimin’s disappearance had raised a lot of questions from everyone around you, because that was the kind of man he was. Memorable. Hoseok kept nagging you to bring him around again, asking why he was gone and that he still had a lot to teach the Australian.

“Come on, did you guys break up?” he whined, flattening his cheek against the cool surface of the diner.

You wanted to tell him that the table was probably gross and greasy, coated in oil, but you could only hear the thundering in your ears. Whenever someone brought Jimin up, that became a frequenting reaction from your side. You couldn’t say anything, only sat there in silence. Did you guys break up? You were never together to begin with, not in the months he spent warming up your home or lied beside you in bed. But he was out of your life for good.

This was what you wanted. This had been the days you had been expecting from the moment he revealed that he came from the fiery pits of hell. So why was it that you felt so uneasy?

Hoseok moaned another complaint. “I miss him, I still haven’t read him the sequel to Fifty Shades.”

“Why were you even reading him that shit?” you scowled, nibbling on your straw to distract yourself.

“He asked for it,” he rolled his eyes, “said he wanted to impress you with some moves. He was so cute, sort of awkward when he was asking. Kid looks experienced but nice to know that he still wanted to jazz up your sex life.”

The resounding thud of your heart dropping to the floor had you biting down on your tongue. It stung, but you were also numb all the same. “Don’t be stupid,” you mumbled. That wasn’t true. Jimin was nice, sure, but he was bound to you. He just wanted to keep you around to play around with you, keep you going with his good guy act.

“Anyway, gotta hop back to work, but if you see him, you should definitely tell him to come by again,” Hoseok grinned, “he’s a great guy, even better with you. Smitten little punk.” As if he hadn’t just struck a slash straight through your heart, the man walked away oblivious to your internal screams.

It wasn’t only Hoseok, your roommate questioned your mood too. You had been sulkier as of late, snapping at her for the littlest things only to apologize right after. Your job took over when you filled up your free time with earning bread to distract yourself. That didn’t work out too well when you could see him in every corner, every nook and cranny, of the library. Sometimes, you thought you had gone insane when you saw his fading image in those empty spaces. Even your boss wondered where the man who was always around went.

The questions seemed never-ending and you thought that it would end soon, that the rumors and inquiries would die down. You even snarled at some people that he was gone and the common conclusion they call came to was that it had been a messy breakup, which in a way was true. Messy, sure. Breakup, not so much.

When you finally had a chance to meet Taehyung, you thought that it would finally be your break from the prying questions, the never ending reminders of Jimin. Taehyung wasn’t Jimin’s biggest fan—or so you thought.

“So, what’s Jimin been up to?” Taehyung asked.

You nearly sprayed your coffee all over the table. Really, you guessed that break was never going to come. “Why do you care? You don’t like him that much.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “I don’t? He didn’t like me. But I was more indifferent towards him.” He took another sip of his drink, smiling. “Though, my respect for him went up tenfold after that night we went clubbing.”

That had been weeks ago. “Why?” you chewed your bottom lip to stop yourself from saying anything else.

“You don’t remember? After the two of you came back from doing God knows what, I was practically dead,” he laughed easily, “I was so tired but he carried the two of us to a cab. He dropped me off first, even made sure I got in bed, before he took you home. Sweet guy that guy. I like him a lot.”

Fuck. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. If you were to make a pros and cons list of his being gone, the balance would be unsurprisingly tilted to one side. You didn’t know why you even bothered pretending that everything was okay.

You missed him, you missed him a lot. He was always there, lurking in the back of your mind. You had grown so accustomed to his being around that it felt odd to have all this silence surrounding you.

Every time the apartment got a little chilly, your first instinct was to scream at Jimin to stop messing with you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from picturing him smirking and teasing you, opening his arms wide like he had done numerous times before so you could warm up in his hold. But all you could do was walk over to the thermostat and adjust it yourself. Because you had no one else to blame.

The memories hurt, clinging onto your heart like hooks that had sank its piercing pain into you.

“You’ve been quieter too,” Taehyung noted, “is it because of Jimin? Did you guys break up?”

You hadn’t even been together in the first place. You were just tied to him, your emotions wired and programmed to accept his being there because you had no other choice. That was what you always assumed with the binding of your souls. But this—now that you were free, you weren't supposed to be feeling this way anymore, not about him. So why were you feeling even more miserable than when he was around?

Taehyung continued when you granted him no reply, “You know, if you really do miss him, you can always just call him up. The guy was crazy about you, I think he would be happy to hear from you.”

Yeah right, you wanted to snort at that. You had flung the worst things at him, had hurt him. Your selfishness and your pride had taken over your emotions in that short period of time that had determined the fate of your relationship.

In any case, it wasn’t as if you could just, as Taehyung said, “call him up.” How were you supposed to tell your best friend that the only way to call Jimin would be to summon—oh.

This was a bad idea. You really needed someone to tell you that this was an incredibly stupid idea and that you could get yourself killed. A pentagram? Out of every other means of communication you could think of, this was the one you had come to.

You groaned, pacing the room while screaming into your hands. This was madness at its pinnacle.

Maybe you should’ve stuck to an ouija board or something, would’ve been safer. Then again, wasn’t that for ghosts? Jimin was the devil. That was different, right? You played it safe after looking up all the books on alchemy and the supernatural from the library. After digging through everything during your past shifts, you had found a spell that would supposedly conjure up the right demon and you could only hope this would reach to the right part of hell that Jimin was in. Drawing up the salt circle had been the last step of the process so you crossed your fingers that it would work. The salt thing had always been something you did to bother Jimin, and the thought of it left another shooting ache in your heart.

Thankfully, your roommate was off for the weekend so you could experiment with this for as long as possible until it worked—or until one of the demons brought you down to your death and to hell with it.

Okay, here went nothing.

You started the incantation, saying the words you had written on paper clearly and aloud. The air was almost ominous, what with you having shut off all the lights and lighting candles around the room. This was most likely a fire hazard and your landlord was going to kill you, but you had to do what you had to do.

The hairs on your skin rose with the sudden chill in the air. You could feel a sudden presence in the room, quietly hovering before you. Your heart beat rhythmically in your chest, the pace picking up nervously. Maybe you should—

click

Light suddenly bathed the entire room, the abruptness of the change pulling a shriek from your lips as you turned around to find Jimin scowling at you near where the switch was. “What in the world are you doing?”

“Jimin!” you gasped, “holy shit, did it work?”

He gave you a look as if to ask if you were being serious or if you really were an idiot. “No, I could hear your stupid chant from a mile away,” he snapped, picking up the piece of paper you dropped and crinkling his nose at it. “What did you do? Pick up a prayer from a cereal box?”

You were too taken aback to comprehend his demeaning comments. “W-wait, so how did you get here? I thought you went back.”

“Back?”

“Like, you know, to hell.”

“Did,” he grunted and pursed his lips, “but hell wasn’t for me, pretty shit down there. Satan sent me back up to pick up a package.”

You tilted your head, “A package?” Jimin only gave you a look. “Oh, it wasn’t me, was it?”

He snorted at that, even chuckled a little, and your heart soared for a short second. “No, I was in the neighborhood, checking on the pizza place while I’m around. Then I heard you.”

“From that far?”

Jimin tapped his ear, sighing, “You’d be surprised how fast Latin travels to my ears.” Then he paused, gaze flying up to meet yours. “Do I want to know why you’re scribbling a half-assed pentagram and talking about cheese in your incantation?”

“That was talking about cheese?” Fuck that book. You should’ve known better than to trust one that was titled Dealing with Devils for Dummies. Jimin only gave you another knowing look. “I don’t know,” you mumbled, shifting your feet together. You weren’t about to admit that you really were trying to call him, whatever it took. The spell had been something you had just plucked out of a book in the library. “I just wanted to try it,” you excused yourself.

“Right, well,” he straightened, conjuring up a scarf to wrap around his face, “don’t do it again. You might summon something else you might not like.” With one last huff, he was turning for the door. “I’m out.”

“Wait!” you quickly interrupted, stepping forward with your heart lodged in your throat, “you can’t right? I have a salt circle.”

It was then Jimin’s glance dropped to the white ring around him. He crouched and stared at it for a few beats, long enough for you to feel pride bloom in your chest, then he got up and casually stepped over the particles. What the fuck?

“Wait, but that’s not—how did you—”

Jimin snorted, rolling his eyes, “I was always messing with you, you liked to believe all those things. It was funny making you think that it worked.”

“So the Bible and the holy water didn’t actually work?”

He waved it off, “Oh, those do. Kitchen salt doesn’t. Maybe try something with a little more quality next time. Those crystallized pink ones would be nice, the pretty sea salt. Oh, those are nice.”

“Noted,” you muttered, looking away and cursing heaven’s wrath upon him. Maybe you should’ve dumped holy water on him the second he stepped foot inside the house.

“So, I’m off—”

“Wait,” you stuttered again.

He huffed, turning around, “What else do you have now? Bibles lining the house to trap me in?”

“No,” you scoffed, though that was an idea you mentally jotted down, “just, you know—” you rubbed your feet together anxiously “—you don’t have to leave so soon. If I didn’t know any better, you must really hate being around me.” Your words were an echo of his, and you were hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would understand the implication of your words.

Jimin narrowed his eyes at you, curious and suspicious all the same. “What’re you going on about? You’re being very vague right now.”

“Nothing,” you spat out albeit too angrily, “I just cooked a bit too much tonight, figured it’d be nice to share it.” You gestured to the spread you had prepared on the table. On top of your summoning ritual, you had also stress cooked all of his favorite dishes thinking that it would be there to share when he was around.

The man eyed the food cautiously, his gaze darting between the table and you quickly. Then he pressed his lips together. “I’m sure Taehyung would love that.”

What? Your heart fell and your expression smoothed into one of surprise. “Why do you have to bring him up?”

“Because you chose him.”

“What the fuck—Jimin, I didn’t choose him over you. I just… you know…”

“No, it's not about choosing him over me,” he took a deep breath and exhaled, “but you chose to be friends with him, chose to be with him. You didn't choose me and I intruded on your space. I’m still sorry for that, but I'm giving it back to you now. I didn’t mean to transport here and shock you. I just heard your voice and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His voice was soft like a gentle caress upon your skin. You’ve missed this, missed him. Your heart throbbed with something painful. You couldn’t even find the courage to open your mouth and get your words out, and he was about to leave again. Jimin waited for a heartbeat, two, then turned towards the door again. However, you were quick to jump forward and catch his arm, feeling a sudden searing heat into your palm. You instinctively leapt back with a yelp.

“Shit,” Jimin cursed, eyes wide, and hurrying over to check on you. His hands reached out, but you cowered back unconsciously, expecting his touch to burn again. His eyes lit up with distress and fear as he quickly retracted his hand, slowly taking steps back away from you. “Sorry, sorry,” he winced, “I-I haven’t really had anyone touch me out of the blue like that. I forgot to regulate my temperature. Hell’s been warm.”

“It’s fine,” you quickly clarified, clearing your throat and feeling thankful that he hadn’t left yet. “I shouldn’t have just touched you. That was my bad.”

It was hurting you to see him so close yet so far. He maintained his distance as he stared warily at your stinging hand. “Run it under cold water, you don’t want to leave a mark,” he advised, taking another step back and hand already reaching for the knob.

“Jimin, stay,” you blurted out and he froze.

For once, you bit back your pride and looked at him. Really looked at him. This was Jimin, the man who had been there for you, who had cared for you, and in spite of the multiple incidences in which he messed with you, you couldn’t deny that his presence meant something to you. “What?” he whispered, disbelief coating his voice.

“Stay,” you said again, coughing, “for dinner at least. I-I kind of want some some company.” You were rambling and you just knew what he was going to say next, so you added, “I want you as my company. No one else. Not Taehyung. Just… you.”

Jimin looked at you carefully, wondering if this was real. “You know you’re no longer bound to me right?”

“I know,” you nodded.

“Then why?”

You licked your lips. “Because I’m choosing you know. Because… I want you here,” you breathed in, “because I really miss you.”

The revelation must’ve been like a thunderbolt to his otherwise tranquil day. He stood, stunned speechless. His lips tightened into a firm line that had your nerves hanging on the edge. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, “ever since you left, I can't stop thinking about it, about you. It's just weird not having you here anymore. I feel stupid always waiting around for you, always expecting to suddenly poof in here out of thin air. It’s strange that you’re no longer here and I just miss you.”

For a while, Jimin said nothing, his glance wandering again to the food on the table. His gaze flickered over to your hands where you fidgeted uncomfortably at his quietness and attention. Then he approached you one step at a time, each time his foot landed on the floor was like another loud beating in your heart. Taking your hands in his, he intertwined your fingers together. You felt as if you had climbed all the way to cloud nine, completely at a loss that Jimin really was back here with you.

His presence was tangible, nothing like what your nostalgic memories had pictured. You could touch him, feel his warmth on your own fingertips. “Not healthy to be this addicted to my presence,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone, “guess my hellish charms did its job right, huh?”

You pouted, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

Jimin raised his hand and thumbed a stray one away, smiling down at you. “Why are you crying?” he whispered, leaning down to brush his nose against yours.

It was so familiar, yet so foreign. This was what you had been waiting for. You closed your eyes, tattooing this moment into your memories and tucking it away. This was an instant you wanted to keep for yourself for future reference.

“Angel,” he said again quietly.

Fuck, even the nickname. He really was out to get you. “I missed you,” you admitted.

Jimin chuckled, warm breath kissing your cheeks as he leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips. “Missed you too, angel, hope you haven’t been up to too much mischief while I was gone.”

You shook your head, “N-no, just been doing this and that.”

“Hoseok said you’ve been moping.”

Pinching your lips together, you frowned, “Hoseok has a big mouth.”

Mirth sparkled in his irises. “Hoseok doesn’t lie at least,” he huffed.

That brought you back to the actual reason why the two of you had separated. “I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was jealous and it was stupid. You may be an annoying piece of shit most of the time—” he choked “—but you’ve been so kind to me, always taking care of me.”

“You were right though,” he spoke gently, “I should’ve given you that choice at least, should’ve courted you the right way.”

“Courted me,” you huffed a laugh, “we should’ve done this before.”

Jimin hummed happily, “Missed you a lot, baby.”

The two of you cleaned off the plates you had prepared, Jimin scarfing down and vacuuming up everything in sight. He moaned about how delicious everything was, how perfectly you had cooked all of it. You had only giggled and added more to his plate.

“You wouldn’t believe what it’s like in hell, angel,” he grunted, “food tastes like crap. It’s like the prison food you see in American TV shows.” He talked about his time in the underworld which surprisingly was tamer than you thought, the bits and pieces he told you about at least. Jimin must’ve sensed your hesitance to hear about the gory details so he kept swerving the conversation to topics about how he had gone there.

Turns out, Jimin had been punished because he had been too compassionate, too considerate of the souls he was taking. Satan didn’t take his kindness too lightly and instead banished him to the mortal realm as punishment, telling him to feed on a soul and prove his worth or he was to return to agony once again.

“When the thing he hoped would be the worst consequence of my life became the thing that led me to the best,” Jimin beamed and you had blushed with his words. Even when he had just returned, he was still a smooth talker.

Unexpectedly, Jimin had lots bits of his memories — he had known he was the devil when he arrived on earth, knew what he had to do, but in his efforts to integrate with the people and ease the soul feeding, he lost track of who he was. He became almost human, just with side of a magic touch. The final blow was when he met you and he wanted to stay human, wanted to stay by your side because being with you made him feel alive.

“You were like a breath of fresh air, especially since I’ve been locked up down there for too long,” he chuckled, tugging you close in bed. “I liked that spirit, liked how cute and innocent you were when you first met me.”

You swatted his arm, “You’ve soiled and spoiled me.”

“Mm, I want to spoil you for the rest of your life.”

“Think the prince of hell can afford that?” you giggled.

He smirked, “I’ll try.”

BONUS:

You looked at him incredulously, “Say that again.”

“You were never bound to me,” Jimin said in a sigh.

“What?”

“I said it so you'd keep me around,” he chuckled, “and so you wouldn't kill me.”

You threw your fist into his chest but it was like hitting solid brick. “You asshole! But—but that one time, you said that if I hurt you, I would get hurt too, and I did.”

He rolled his eyes as if it were the most obvious revelation in the world. He shimmied his fingers in the air, “Super powers, duh, it's not that hard to put a small cut on your arm. I just didn't want you attacking me in my sleep.”

Your attempt to hit him was foiled again. “You jerk!”

“But you took me in anyway anyway, couldn't stand seeing me starve in the cold,” he grinned, “that's just the kind of person you are.”

“I’m going to be the kind of person that kicks you out tonight,” you scowled.

Jimin smirked challengingly, “Try me, babe, you gave me your key, remember?”

Fuck. You forgot about that.

“Thank you though for that by the way, it was touching,” he smiled. You weakly tried to swat him again.

You cleared your throat, looking away with pink dusting your cheeks. “So are you, um, going to stay? You know, like… long-term.”

Jimin shrugged, “Dunno yet, I guess.”

Snuggling into his chest, you hid your face in it so he couldn’t see your expression. “You should—stay, I mean.”

“Yeah? You want that?”

You nodded slowly.

Jimin sighed, kissing your head, “I'll talk to the big boss, maybe he'll let me off. He doesn't really care anyway, has too many bastards to give a damn about one of them.”

“Well, I give a damn about you so you should just stay here.”

He hid his smile, “I think I'd like that.”

#bts #jimin #bangtan bookclub #jimin scenario #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts angst #bts demon au #whew finished this last year but just got a chance to look it over again!

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alexiela73 · 7 years ago

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Ok, I am so happy your open. If you feel inspired could you please write a continuation of mccree's story from your soul mate au genji/mute reader? I really want to hear the story behind his tattoo of "You damn asshole!" maybe he meets them after recall? when on the run? or even in blackwatch. :) Anything would be great, just trying to include some inspiring prompts :P

xD I honestly didn’t realize i’d left that one open as a side story but I’m kind of glad I did. I’d be happy to

Grumbling in irritation, Jesse kicked the rocks at his feet as he headed into Numbani, needing to get away from base for a bit. Right now the cowboy was tired and frustrated. Why couldn’t everyone just relax?

Things have just seemed a real mess around base really, with the arguing between Commander Morrison and Commander Reyes. They’re constant arguments and disagreements were starting to cause small rifts in the system that both Overwatch and Blackwatch had carefully crafted.

A system that had helped the two organizations, which were basically two sides of the same coin, work together as it should.

When it came down to business, people were afraid to speak to either of them. Morrison’s second in command, Ana Amari, has been taking as much weight off of Commander Morrison’s shoulders as possiblebut as a mother bearing many responsibilities in Overwatch, she could only handle so much.

Jesse had just gotten back from a mission with Reyes, who was in a downright pissy mood. It had been a bust, and Jesse already knew what that meant for Reyes. Another excuse for Jack to fight with him.

It didn’t help that as McCree had gotten out of the helicopter, Commander Morrison had called Reyes to his office for a debriefing, using the coldest voice he’d ever heard. Reyes had snarled at Jesse to finish the last of the paperwork and stormed off.

Now Jesse was left to go out to get a beer by himself, after finishing up the paperwork and growling to himself under his breath. Of course, he would have invited Genji but Genji had been quite busy as of late with his soulmate, who he miraculously found a few months ago.

Heading into the nearest bar, McCree glanced down at his arm where in fine italic letters it read, ‘You damn asshole!’. It even had the exclamation mark. Whatever it meant, Jesse figured that his first time meeting his soul mate would likely be a disaster of some sort. Figures, he thought to himself with a grunt.

Sitting down heavily at a stool at the counter, Jesse’s fingers brushed over the letters. Despite the impending trouble they implied, Jesse…hoped he’d find them soon. A soulmate meant the two were made for each other. They’re souls fit in a way that others didn’t, and it was a lifetime bond.

It meant a future full of love, and Jesse…wanted that. Despite his countless conquests, those were just men and women that Jesse had been attracted to. People who hadn’t found their soulmates and were up for a little naughty fun to pass the time. Jesse wondered what it’d be like to have more then that…

“Shut up, you little chicken shit,” he muttered to himself, and rubbed a hand down his face. “Its an obligation you don’t need, and besides…who the hell would be happy with you as a soulmate?” It was a thought he’d had since he was young, before he’d even been roped into Deadlocke.

What if he wasn’t a good soulmate? What if they realized he was too much trouble, that they couldn’t handle him? There were rare instances of soulmates growing to hate each other, and when that happened, sometimes the bond would become tainted with a loneliness that ate people from the insides out, until driven mad.

Shaking his head fiercely, Jesse took a deep breath. He needed to get his heard in the game, god damn it…. the place was full of pretty men and women and he needed to get his game on.

Spying the back of one person in particular passing by, he barely caught a glimpse of their face. And yet….

Turning halfway as they passed, McCree smirked and gave them a very firm, albeit sensual slap on the butt. Damn, he had a second or so to process, that ass if fine. Jesse was just turning around fully, opening his mouth to finish off the first move with a good pick up line when...

Bam. Something solid hit his groin and there was an intense jolt of pain as Jesse gasped, sliding from the stool to his knees on the floor. Whatever it was, it had hit hard and his poor jewels suffered heavily, as much as the rest did.

“Holy cheese and crackers!” he gasped, his hands both holding his groin, partly in reaction to the pain and mostly in case another attack ensued.

“You damn asshole!!!” snarled what might have been the loveliest voice he’d ever heard in his life, and managed to glance up to see you standing there, looking outraged as you rubbed your hand. “How dare you touch me without my- wait, what did you say?”

Jesse struggled for a moment, as his mind was torn between the pain between his thighs, the yelling and how gorgeous your eyes were when lit with rage. It sounded terrible, but he was positive you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the honor of seeing. Even if you did just punch his groin.

“I....you..,” It was taking Jesse a lot longer then you to actually relay what just occurred through his mind and see what you were seeing. “I...um...cheese and...crackers..” The words had spilled out on impulse, though for once it hadn’t been curses he’d let loose.

There was a moment of silence as you glared down at him, where Jesse remained on his knees debating on why, suddenly, the fact that you’d just punched him was so incredibly hot.

“Damn it,” you muttered after a moment, brushing a hand through your hair. “Fuck. Serves me write for having a pervert for...”

Blinking slowly, it finally occurred.

“You said...oh shit,” Jesse said, looking down at the words on his arm and then back at you. Glancing at both your arms, he saw the words wrapped finely around your wrist. “We’re...”

‘Holy cheese and crackers’....he couldn’t believe that destiny had forced that to be his first words to you. It’s like life was laughing at him.

“Yes. Yes we are,” you said tightly, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at him. “And let me tell you, your first impression is literally crap. How dare you, you filthy slime ball. What gives you the right to-”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cut in, heat starting to climb into his cheeks a bit as he got to his feet. He’d been trying to find a one night stand to make himself feel better, to take his mind off his own self pity and the problems and loneliness plaguing him...and in turn, he’d really messed up his first encounter with you.

Putting your hands on your hips, it was clear you didn’t forgive him. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you think that-” you cut yourself off as his eyes dropped down to the floor.

The man before you....he had pretty brown eyes with flecks of gold. He was handsome, you’d give him that. But he also looked incredibly tired and... defeated. At the sight, a wave of sympathy rose through you...and you struggled to squelch it down. The bastard had... oh, damn that sad face.

As much as you wanted to scold him and skin him alive, you also really just wanted to give him a hug. This wasn’t what you were expecting today by coming to the bar. Like most people, you really didn’t expect to meet your soulmate at all....you had just wanted a drink while working on your university papers.

But now that you’d found him, despite his...mistake...you supposed that you could at least give him a chance to redeem himself. Surely there was something about him that the world had seen was right for you.

“....Don’t ever touch someone’s butt, or any other part of them, without permission ever again,” you said seriously, though your voice had softened a bit.

Glancing up at you, Jesse hesitated, before giving you one of those heart breaking smiles. You could see that you’d won yourself one of those men who often broke hearts and left swooning women in their wakes.

“I really am sorry about that, darlin’. I know it isn’t right, but....” Jesse didn’t have a good excuse.

“You thought I was a prostitute,” you said calmly, and his face was all the confirmation you needed. “Don’t get upset. A lot of people come to a bar to either drink or sleep around. I get it. From your face, you look like you’re hiding from some issues,” you continued.

Jesse was left speechless, slowly sitting back on his barstool and honestly, neither of you noticed really as you joined him there at the counter. It was just so natural, so easy to sit there and speak. And even while angry at him, a certain part of you knew him....knew he was a good man. Even if you didn’t really know him.

“I kind of am, ya...,” Jesse admitted and then sighed. “Look...I already fucked up my first five seconds with you. I don’t expect you’ll want to be around me much, if at all. I can leave you alone, if that's what you want. I come with problems, and I wont let them weigh on you too.”

And perhaps it was hearing that that finally gave you your first real impression of the man, other then that he was touchy with his hands. He was the kind of man who kept his problems to himself to save other people from suffering with him. And that's all you needed to hear to make your decision.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you said after a moment, holding out your hand to him.

There was a moment of Jesse looking between you and your hand. “I...I’m Jesse McCree,” he said after a moment, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you, buttercup.”

Unable to help the small smile that rose to your lips when he called you buttercup, you ordered two whiskeys. “To second impressions,” you said, lifting your glass for a toast.

“To soulmates,” he said, his eyes boring into yours and he clinked his glass against yours.

And that was the beginning of a very interesting relationship.

#McCree #Jesse McCree #McCree x Reader #McCree Overwatch #McCree Headcanon #McCree Soulmate Au #Soulmate Au #Overwatch #Overwatch x Reader #Overwatch Imagines #Overwatch Stories #Overwatch Writing #Overwatch Fanfic #Overwatch Soulmate au

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kyluxficexchange · 7 years ago

Photo

Valentine’s Day 2018 Collection

(For anyone living in East Asia and celebrating, Happy Chinese New Year!)

Authors have been revealed (for the better half of a day), but due to RL I had a few problems logging on to post this before now, but thank you for your patience with me!

A gentle reminder that while we don’t enforce it as a rule, we greatly recommend readers leave a comment or kudos on their gift- feeling great about validation is universal! It’s been a wild ride, thank you all for bearing with me and sticking along. I hope you had a lovely Valentine’s Day, and that you have a lovelier week.

Beneath the cut is a master-post of fic recs for your reading enjoyment!

All 56 works currently in the collection are included below. If you’d like specific recs for certain tropes/features/themes, you can throw us an ask. If you’d like your work removed from the rec-list, just message us!

CONTENTS, fics for--- valentines day fluff soft & classic kylux long journeys canonical AU modern AU benarmie & techienician comedy(?)

VALENTINES FLUFF

Works that are in-character set around Valentines day. Generally modern day! Soft and sweet. A bit late to read these for Valentines Day but we can still make it for White Day!

Blind Date

Phasma sets Hux up on a blind date. She has no idea he and Ren already know each other. And hate each other.

feat. kylo taking yoga classes, ‘careful, ren’, and copious amounts of humour. phasma is?? a god???, and the banter between kylo and hux is everything. hux’s pov involves a level of sarcasm that is delicious to behold.

Can You Come Get Me

After a vicious fight with his father, Hux needs a place to go. Ren is more than obliging. Not your conventional Valentine's Day, but far better than he had hoped for.

feat. brendol hux’s A+ parenting, a little bit of whump, and heart-shaped pancakes. there’s a lovely sweetness to ren that really endears the reader to them both.

Crossed Wires

In a modern setting; Armitage and Ben have a very important dinner together.

feat. benarmie and proposing! is it actually set on v-day? i don’t know but it makes it even fluffier. matt and techie are also present, and the sibling dynamic is to die for.

Don’t Play With Your Food

For the prompt: cannibal and serial killer, cute boyfriends.

feat. food porn, knitting solving every relationship trouble (knit one purl one two). a romantic comedy falls somewhere between absolutely adorable and somewhat horrifying. maybe it just jumps seamlessly from one to the other.

possession

The one where Kylo and Hux both find themselves on Chandrila with lackluster dates for the local equivalent of Valentine's Day, a bit too much alcohol is imbibed, feelings are had, and animosity gives way to something else.

feat. a ton of great dialogue, hux in a dress, and alcohol porn. alcohol description porn. just... description porn. the writing is amazingly immersive, the worldbuilding is beautiful, and there is a bar scene which trumps all other bar scenes.

SOFT KYLUX

Canonical kylux with (mildly) fluffy endings and lots of hurt/comfort. Possibly not as soft when compared with other fandoms and ships, but equally delicious.

Open Letter

General Hux tries to deal with his negative thoughts after the First Order's latest defeat. Kylo Ren offers some help.

feat. post-tlj angst and eventual(?) catharsis- at least, the first step to it. hux’s pov and inner monologue is super well written- in this work he’s a lot more vulnerable, and the author really plays on his sense of self worth, to great effect.

Sealed with a Kiss

Armitage is shaken up by Snoke's punishments, so Kylo has to go to him.

feat. hux being substituted for a pair of maracas, a bit of whump and some hurt/comfort. it’s not quite fluffy- neither of them are nice enough for that- but there’s softness scattered throughout that the bluntness of the text really highlights. also humour, which gets pulled off far too well.

Slow Hands

Hux yearns for Supreme Leader Ren, but he knows it can never happen.

feat. post-tlj catharsis and the best kind of hurt. the first half is unparalleled unrequited love kink. the pacing and narrative is just perfect- there’s a level of raw emotion conveyed through the writing (on hux’s end) that is quality™.

Tame Your Nightmares

When Hux passes out on the bridge, Supreme Leader Ren takes this matter into his own hands. Together with Hux, he tries to find a solution to Hux's sleep problems.

feat. kylo being an asshole but a nice asshole, solid REM sleep becoming my kink. a lot of them sassing each other in this fic- the snark gives way to vulnerability at certain moments and it’s A++.

Moon-Shaped Pools

Posing as a couple while on an intelligence-gathering mission to the Pleasure Planet of Chagar IX proves to be enlightening in more ways than one.

feat. stranded together on a pleasure planet. the atmosphere of this fic is just otherworldly. literally otherwordly- the nature of the place they’re in changes their dynamic and the way they act around each other, and it’s wonderful to see.

Cocooned

prompt: Stranded somewhere not so fun, Kylo takes care of Hux's small wounds with a level of care that makes Hux feel ~uncomfortable~. In a good way.

feat. a summary that doesn’t live up to its 6,000 words of great dialogue and worldbuilding. basically post-tlj snuggling. the setting really forces the two of them to interact in ways that would not otherwise happen- which results for lots of fluff and hurt/comfort.

The Breaking Point

Supreme Leader Snoke commands his apprentice to dispose of the General. Ren questions his orders.

feat. a great exploration of ren’s character. his inner monologue is spot on, every emotion is acute and real, and being able to follow his thoughts and feelings to their (perhaps inevitable) conclusion is just a gift.

Constellations

Kylo Ren is in quite a state when he wakes in the medbay following the destruction of Starkiller Base. Luckily for him, he isn't alone.

feat. post-tfa angst, kylo and hux expressing their feelings to each other. in a feelings way and also in a ‘lets rule the galaxy together’ way. the characterization is spot on and puts a twist on their mutual vulnerability- they’re both just so well written.

Disaster Recovery Plan

In the aftermath of the debacle on Crait the First Order is trying to run an evacuation and recovery operation from the stabilised remains of the Supremacy. But the Mega Star Destroyer is in worse condition than anyone realised, a fact Hux discovers only just in time to save his own life. Seriously injured he finds himself in unexpectedly close quarters with the new Supreme Leader...

feat. star destroyer class mega, hux whump, recovery and getting together, and hux watching kylo sleep. post-tlj. i just want to say this fic hurts to read because it’s so emotional and the author conveys the characters so well, but things get better for them!

A Few Chocolates

Snoke had forbidden Kylo from experiencing things that Hux never expected. It seems like a good place to start winding closer, manipulating the new Supreme leader. Instead Hux ends up finding out that maybe he doesn’t hate Kylo as much as he thought he did.

feat. communication over bribery and chocolates. idiots falling in love. hux’s pov is written superbly- the way the two of them come together and the slow build of their relationship reads seamlessly and organic (even with hux’s intent to manipulate going on).

I Am More Than My Scars

Grand Marshal Hux is distraught when he discovers what kind of training Supreme Leader Ren is engaging in to keep himself bound to the dark side, and suspects the involvement of the deceased Snoke.

feat. non-sexual intimacy, the same tag that is used in the fic but i can’t express how much i love it: they are soft with each other in a way it’s rare to see in most canon fics. it stuck in my mind for days and i love this take on hux and kylo, and how their harshness wears away when they’re alone together.

CANONICAL AU

Works set in the Star Wars verse, but with slight twists- on characters, setting, etc.

Blind to his own brilliance

Upon suffering a life-threatening injury, Kylo discovers something about his General that will definitely lead to something more.

Oh, and he also gets a kiss.

feat. force-sensitive hux living up to the title of the fic, and ren being appropriately impressed. such beautifully written prose i die. following kylo’s pov, it’s easy to see, and easier still to miss any inkling.

Reciprocity

Ben and his family are attending a masquerade ball in celebration of the Peace treaty that will unite forces across the galaxy. Ben is bored and looking for an escape from his mother's political circles.

feat. a ben solo still with his parents??? my heart. an interesting look into the characters if they’d never met via snoke, and if kylo ren never existed- the worldbuilding in the background is fascinating, and hux in this fic is a less polished, more open version of himself that i love.

Pulvis et Lux

Emptiness. Hux shook in his quarters, clutching a tiny position sensor to his heart. It was dead now. Cold, quiet, and useless. The last five years he had cherished it like a tiny piece of his lover, knowing that, however far he strayed, Kylo Ren was alive and within his reach.

But now he was lost to him, and Hux was left with a tiny piece of smooth metal and a large corpse, bloodied and burned.

feat. angst in buckets, character death, and force ghost kylo. and rings. it’s a fic about mourning and not quite letting go. proving wrong the age old saying of ‘death do us part’. still without a doubt a fic to stoke the tragedy boner.

CLASSIC KYLUX

Kylux that is decidedly not soft. Sometimes dark, sometimes not so dark, but the classic dynamic from early on in the fandom.

Connections Never Sought

“You’re serious. You want to know? The last time you asked me about the Force, it was because you wanted to know if I could interrogate your prisoner from another system.”

feat. too many feels, a new level of kink without... actually getting explicit?? (how), and feelings being resolved via sex. hints of softness that neither of them act on, with rey as an unintentional voyeur.

so indefinite as to be indefinable

It goes like this: their shadows become misshapen, tall and hungry and swallowing the dark- in the unlit corners of the room, monsters trying to eat each other.

feat. purple prose, angst that eventually turns less angsty. prose for days, and both of them being idiots falling in love- with mutual pining thrown in for good measure. once again, classic characterization- which mingles with some fluff.

An Uneasy Alliance

After the events on Crait, the newly self appointed Supreme Leader Kylo Ren and General Armitage Hux struggle to find their footing with their new power structure and the imbalance it creates. Hux feels the sting of his ill treatment at Ren's hand and fears the worst is coming.

feat. more prose that will slaughter you, power imbalance, and so much pining. these two sorting out their issues with communication and stabbing- their characterization really calls back to the first wave of kylux fics that came out after tfa, and it’s beautifully written.

you know why

An assassination attempt, some rather unexpected heroism from Hux, and the magic of bacta. This day really isn't going the way Kylo Ren expected. Whoever thought that building an empire would be this difficult?

feat. slow but not soft kylux, multifaceted. also delicious smut. ren and hux straddle the line between ‘adorably fluffy’ and ‘not nice at all’- hux is almost frighteningly unreadable at times, and kylo is (in comparison) far too easy to read, which just fuels their dynamic here further.

Reveille

Kylo and Hux have an arrangement. So what if some woman can make Hux smile?

feat. jealousy and brilliant characterization. miscommunication happens in spades and catharsis is somewhere beyond the tunnel- kylo is emotionally oblivious, and hux is probably at a loss because of it.

FOR LONG JOURNEYS

Long fics over 10,000 words. If not for a long journey, then read them with a good mug of coffee and snacks on a rainy day.

Dangerous Mistakes

Kylo Ren is dangerous, and has long been a thorn in the side of General Hux. He's always hated him and always will. Or will he?

feat. enemies to lovers and hux reading romance novels. there’s a wonderful darkness that never quite abates in the fic, neither hux nor ren are very nice people- both of them drawn to each other for reasons they don’t seem to wholly comprehend.

Lead To Follow

Five years after leaving the world of competitive ballroom dancing, Hux is comfortable in his life as an instructor - until one bad student has to shake everything up.

feat. a primer on ballroom dancing, hank the investment banker, and both of them being incurable and helpless romantics. finn/rey and leia/holdo are background ships that work together really well. also trans!hux! the dialogue and description are so well written, i honestly can’t imagine how much research and time went in to this fic.

man in black

“So, you really want to live here?” Finn frowns, dark eyes gazing out of the front window. Rain streams down the glass, each droplet creating a trail - like silvery scars on frosted skin.

“I don’t really have a choice.” is the reply.

feat. putting pineapple and sweetcorn on pizza and small town southern gothic. mild horror, mildly creepy hux. there’s a lot of suspense- it reads a little as mystery/light horror novel might read. it was completely riveting to read, the narrative slips and slides in some parts- kylo is an unreliable narrator, in an unreliable reality.

our love is a ghost (that the others can’t see)

Ren likes flowers. Hux finds out.

feat. canon-verse with soft kylux and beautiful writing. pressed flowers, fresh flowers, hux gifting ren flowers. a lot of restrained emotion that finally, finally gives way towards the middle and end.

tell me we’ll never get used to it

Kylo may not have recognized his co-star's voice, but he sure as shit remembers that this Armitage Hux guy was the best one night stand he's ever had in his life.

feat. actor AU, great puns, all the background ships. it’s a multi-media project with graphics/edits and different styles of writing- and aside from the amazing writing, it’s the most fun thing i’ve read in forever. there were throwaway lines that had me yelling for ten minutes straight. bonus points for bodhi and cassian being partners.

Sustenance

Kylo Ren has spent the last five years fighting in the desert, leading the Southern Front for Emperor Snoke’s war against the Resistance. Global conquest is near at hand, but things take a turn for the worse when General Armitage Hux is captured and delivered far north to a Resistance stronghold in the Davarn Mountains. Ren has never ventured that far north himself; nor has he ever met Armitage Hux, but the severity the Emperor heaps on this situation implies there’s probably more to the man than what meets the eye.

Whatever the case may be, Ren takes the mission without question. After all, the sooner he sets things in order with the General, the sooner he can return to his own quest of cutting down the Resistance army.

He just fails to anticipate how difficult this mission turns out to be…

feat. an author who claims never to have written steampunk before, but writes it amazingly well. close to 28k, definitely for a very long train journey. the moments of softness between kylo and hux are nestled between plot-heavy segments and beautiful worldbuilding. background characters are fleshed out, the setting is beautiful, it’s a fully fledged short novel that could even be read standalone.

SMUT

Porn with and without plot. (my thoughts on smut are generally incoherent whoops, i might add onto this section later.)

Atonement

Ren stares at the carpet. “Tell me what to do,” he says.

“Last time I tried that, you nearly rendered me unconscious,” Hux snaps, hoping he sounds more incensed than hurt.

feat. bottom kylo and bondage.

An Attempt on His Life

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren summons for his General to discuss a private matter of the utmost importance. Hux assumes this is where he dies after his treasonous thoughts from "that night".

feat. more bottom kylo and post-tlj sorting out of feelings. calling hux armitage. A+++

Do it The Right Way

Hux just wants to sleep at night, too bad his neighbor keeps him up with his loud, incorrect masturbation. Hux is just going to have to guide him through how to do it properly

feat. hux being Done.

Hold On

Hux holds out one gloved hand, beckoning Ren away from the cave’s starless winding passages, back toward the salt and red earth and open sky.

Ren goes to him, because there is a choice— but not really.

feat. hot mess kylo ren and a lot of dom/sub. the writer’s prose is beautiful.

Impromptu Meeting

Kylo was beyond exasperated with his top General, Armitage Hux and his lack of respect. Kylo was not an Alpha to be mocked and a simple beta should know so. He'd have to have a long talk with a certain ginger.

feat. A/B/O-verse, omega hux and alpha kylo. (dubious/non-consent)

Mutual destruction

“Scared you could still lose this battle? That I could get what I want?”, Hux teases and it’s probably the wrong thing to say but he doesn’t care anymore. He wants this to get bloody and messy and he wants to be able to claw and hate with all he’s got. Ren has to see it in his mind because only seconds later the knight’s angry lips cover his mouth and the kiss is entirely painful and yet the best they've had so far.

feat. too many feels, semi-transactional sex, and classic kylux. also bonus shout-out as the author didn’t have a giftee while writing- leave a comment /o/!

Negotiations

Or Negotiations with a Man Baby

Hux and Kylo have been fucking for awhile now. But then an awkward moment leads to them actually talking about their sex lives and trying new things.

feat. (daddy) kink negotiation, the promise of lingerie. light-hearted and humourous at parts.

People Like Us

Kylo has to make it up to Hux after he roughs him up in front of his subordinates.

feat. neither of them being nice, both of them getting what they want.

We can talk it over, and over, and over

“Whatever you just did,” he moves again, “Do it again.”

There are lines that the Force can break down, lines that can bring people closer together, lines that turn a feeling into an experience.

feat. inappropriate use of the force. they’re surprisingly domestic- fluffy but there’s an undertone of something not-entirely-healthy sprinkled throughout. it’s an interesting twist on what a relationship between them might look like.

MODERN DAY FICS

Featuring office romance, actor AU, a little bit for everyone.

Best Intentions

As if Ben’s hopeless crush on his uptight but gorgeous coworker isn’t problematic enough, a well-intentioned mistake has gotten him into a mess of trouble.

Luckily for Ben—and unluckily for Hux—he has a plan.

feat. office humour, accidents, and double shot lattes with almond milk. the coffee descriptions are to die for, as is the millicent cameo. it’s sweet to see them together, and to see them communicating with one another (nearer to the end).

The Future In-Laws

Han and Leia Organa-Solo pay a visit to their son and his fiancé in London.

feat. armitage speaking his mind about brexit, han and leia coming to visit their kids. the americanization of aubergines into eggplants. han and leia are wonderful in this fic; hux is the anxious fiance about to meet the in-laws, and the whole fic is just slow and very sweet.

More Than Words

Armitage is a cynic about love because of his father's relationship with Maratelle and Armitage's mother, but when a friend signs him up for a blind date, he meets Ben. Despite Ben's parents having a completely dysfunctional marriage, he remains an optimist about finding his soulmate. It might not be love at first sight, but there's definitely something going on…

feat. hux not being optimistic on his blind date with ben. ben recommending the fish. wb yeats turning over in his grave. ben is a romantic and hux claims to be a cynic, and the whole fic (from hux’s pov) reads in a far too romantic manner- the pacing is perfect and the writing even more so.

Nearly Missed

After two years of travelling the world trying to find himself, Kylo Ren is as lost as ever. When he returns home for a brief visit, he is unexpectedly reunited with his best friend and long-time secret crush, Armitage Hux.

feat. fluff and angst, kylo returning from a trip of self-discovery in which he discovered nothing. kylo and armitage communicating with each other. i really enjoyed reading hux taking a different path in life- the idea of how different he could be as a person if this or that had changed.

Northern Exposure

When Hux's personal assistant abandons him without warning he is forced to take on an emergency employee to replace him. Kylo is without a doubt the worst assistant Hux has ever had, and possibly an escaped convict, but there's something about him that catches Hux's attention.

feat. hux being an inappropriate boss, borderline workplace harassment but they still get together. kylo’s past is a mystery, hux wants to chop trees down, and the background characters are to die for- everyone is astonishingly fleshed out considering the wordcount, and the writing style fits hux’s pov perfectly.

Slow dance with the best man

Hux is dragged to his subordinate's wedding and decides to take advantage of the free drinks. But the best man is tall, dark, and handsome--and he has his eyes set on Hux!

Or, a Harlequin romance novel au

feat. a never-ending cycle of finding romance. hux is quite literally swept away by ren, and both of them dramatically fall in love.

Totality

Hux is an astronomer, and Kylo an astrologist. They bicker about the stars and fall in love during an eclipse.

feat. a meet-cute and the sweetest romance i’ve ever read. the amount of characterization stuffed into 1300 words flabbergasts me- there’s so much of it in the dialogue itself that it doesn’t need description to be conveyed.

Still Water

The men are working together and they're both reserved.

feat. office romance and champagne in plastic cups. hux is reserved but confident, and kylo is more unsure of himself, making for an interesting dynamic!

Cut Above the Rest

Kylo needs a haircut. Poe knows a guy. Kylo's not sure what he's getting into.

feat. hair stylist hux with a mysterious past and kylux having their first meeting. light-hearted and fluffy. hux is dramatic and slightly(?) creepy, it only serves to make them both more endearing.

BENARMIE & TECHIENICIAN

Self explanatory, but this also works as the ‘tooth-rottingly fluffy’ category.

birds of a feather

Techie has never met anyone like Matt before, but he's never met anyone like himself, either.

feat. techienician, a lot of fluff, and pigeons. i love how techie is written, his pov is just so very stylized and unique- his character comes through via the narration alone. pure cinnamon buns in love.

Good Morning, Angel

Techie is a permanent patient at a hospital and Matt is the new nurse there. (Cue Matt falling for him without even realizing it within the first ten minutes.)

feat. more techienician, patient techie and nurse matt looking like a sketch of the zodiac killer. tooth-rottingly fluffy. matt is super caring in this one- seeing hux through his eyes is absolutely endearing.

Wedding Daze

It's his brother's wedding, Armitage should be happy. Instead he's reminded of just how lonely he is. And then he sees the other best man. It may have been six months since they worked together, but there's no mistaking Ben Solo.

feat. there’s background techienician that is just super soft and sweet (marriage !!), and then the dynamic between armitage and ben which parallels and contrasts that. the dynamic between the siblings themselves is perfect.

COMEDY(?)

At least, light-hearted and sweet, no hurt in sight. If anything, fics that will make you laugh when you need it.

Lost Cat, Fat.

Hux decides to keep Millicent inside so she won't get any extra feedings. But someone else is looking for her, too.

feat. millicent adopting a second dad without armitage’s permission and misunderstandings over parenting. hux and ren’s interaction here is just adorable, and i love the narration from hux’s pov- he and millicent make a wonderful pair.

Disappointment Comes After Success

General Hux has a lot on his plate, especially now that his former co-commander and ex-lover is the new Supreme Leader. He drinks the bitterest tea and arms himself with pettiness and hope.

feat. post-tlj misuse of the supreme leader’s power, hux being close to losing it, hux deserving better, and hair-washing kink. so much hair-washing kink. i don’t think i ever stopped laughing to myself reading this.

Fate’s Accountant

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren's reign of terror starts off poorly and continues on a downward trajectory from there. Badly as he doesn't wish to admit it, he needs his estranged lover/former co-commander's help to put everything back together again both personally and professionally. Surely, Snoke had something laying around here that will be sufficient enough to bribe him. What gift best says, "I'm sorry I've been an incompetent asshole and I want you back"?

feat. ‘gracious government mix’ the chocolate giftbox, darth knight tantrum trying to make things up to hux. every single sentence is comedy gold. feels lurk under the surface to be discovered and rediscovered on second and third rereads. the pinnacle of fic.

What doesn’t kill you

..... makes you fall in love.

feat. the trope of 5 4 times plus 1, and me indeed falling in love with this fic. phasma being the hero and friend we don’t deserve. hux tries to kill kylo with successively worse results. or eventually better results. i cackled to myself the entire time and i’m glad hux ended up laughing too.

Stranded

Kylo is snowed in at an airport. And the world's most arrogant prick is too. This is just Kylo's luck.

feat. a wonderfully written setting, description porn, and sock garters. seeing hux from kylo’s pov is just... a gift. kylo is a gift, hux is a bit of an asshole, but a snarky asshole, and it’s so well-written i cry. also the smut is such a bonus.

EDITS: 01. added a fic that had been missing before: i am more than my scars.

#kylux #kylo ren #general hux #armitage hux #//throws in more tags #defs feel free to reblog!#admin note #i overextended myself

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red-garden · 1 month ago

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More of this (asshole reader self saving system) AU

In a reverse transmigration version, Loser Troll Bingge is finally getting everything he thinks he wants. Shen Yuan, in the flesh, ready to learn from his alpha male mojo. He’ll show them all. He’ll make sure Shen Yuan gets so much pussy he’s drowning in it!

Shen Yuan has different ideas. He’s more than happy to let this pretty man boss him around (hello not being responsible for your own life, how he’s missed you) but he doesn’t understand what Binghe could have to gain by pushing these strangers to join his harem.

(Cue Bingge getting mommied/soft dommed so hard he turns into a housewife.)

#svsss #scum villian self saving system #asshole reader self saving system AU #shen yuan #luo bingge #luo binghe #luo bingmei

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gukyi · 8 years ago

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the millionaire and his lover | jjk

⇒ summary: over the course of your lifelong friendship with jungkook, you can’t say that you’ve ever had the greatest ideas, and a fake relationship with the boy you’ve been in love with for years is no exception.

⇒ self-gratuitous ceo au, friends-to-lovers, and fake relationship trope rolled into one big shitstorm of a jungkook fic

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 18k

⇒ genre: fluff, angst, and light smut

⇒ warnings: alcohol mentions, smut

⇒ a/n: hello all! i wanted to kickoff my writing on this blog with a bang, so here’s a longish fic on my wildest dreams.

When you first tell people that you happen to know CEO and multimillionaire Jeon Jungkook, they tell you one of three things:

1: You’re so lucky! Could you introduce me?

2: You must have saved an entire country in your past life.

3: Is he as much of an asshole as the news outlets make him out to be?

What you don’t say, though, is this: You and Jungkook have had history for as long as you could remember. As not only neighbors, but also childhood friends, you happen to know quite a lot about the man who made a name of himself before he even graduated from university. You would also very much like to keep quiet the fact that you’ve harbored a crush on the boy for quite some time now, obvious to everyone whose name isn’t Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook is, in one word, brilliant. He is brilliantly intelligent, brilliantly talented, brilliantly beautiful. He is suave and smooth and gets what he wants and if he didn’t possess such a disdain for the tabloids that do nothing but stretch the truth, he would have them wrapped around his finger. Sure, he’s no actor or singer, but he is a celebrity, and a skilled one at that. The media know no boundaries when it comes to a man like Jungkook, painting him as stunning yet rude, rich yet selfish, smart but cold. You know they blow his brief affairs out of proportion, and you know they will never know the boy who fell off of his bicycle in the second grade.

Jungkook is not powerful enough to replace the stars in your sky, but he is powerful enough to rearrange them right in front of your eyes, creating endless constellations that all remind you of him. He is the boy you have cherished since your elementary school days, when he would accidentally drool on your shoulder and throw sand into your mouth, and you are the girl who, despite all class differences, has stuck by him through thick and thin. It is not enough, but perhaps to him, it is.

“Do you ever try to mooch off of his wealth?” People ask you. “I would.”

And sure, every now and then you will ask him for money and he will give it to you, but your intentions are pure and you do not, will not, ever take his generosity for granted. Not when he has so much and you so little. You know what life is like when the world keeps trying to trip you, and a bit of smooth ground is not enough to keep you from forgetting the struggle.

That is, until you get laid off your job due to an influx of new workers, and your next student debt payment is due in roughly, a week.

“What?”

You glare at the email on the screen of the laptop you’ve had ever since your third year of secondary school. On the screen, in big, bold, black letters, are the words DISMISSAL NOTICE. Under them, your name.

This is the worst timing you’ve had in a long while. Not that your job was dreamy or anything, but it paid and it paid well enough for you to keep on top of your rent and your student debt payments. The rent’s been taken care of, especially since your eccentric roommate has a hell of a job and is pretty generous herself, offering to pay for more of the rent when she knows you can’t make it up to quota, in return for completing some of her schoolwork or whatever. It’s a good system, really, but this has thrown you for so many loops that you don’t know which way is up anymore.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. Both elbows are on the desk in front of you as you rub your eyes, tired of this job and this room and this life. Days like this are the days you can’t stand to see Jungkook’s face on the cover of a magazine or his name in the headline of an article, flaunting his wealth with his Armani suits and Rolex watches and slicked-back hair. Envious isn’t a characteristic you’d like to describe yourself with, but when it comes to him, the feeling can’t help but creep up.

You have no idea how you’re going to be able to afford the last several hundred thousand won of debt payment without a job. Sure, Jungkook is only a mere few phone taps away, but even this is too big of a favor for you to ask him. You don’t think you’ve ever asked for more than fifty thousand won from him, and to Jungkook, that’s pocket change.

So, in perhaps more of a desperation than a determination, you start cruising the online bulletin boards and local stores’ websites for a job, one that you are vying to keep.

A day passes, and then another, and nothing.

“No luck?” Your roommate asks as she walks into your bedroom, seeing you hunched over your laptop with red eyes and messy hair.

“No,” you sigh. “No one’s hiring. Probably because the graduating university class this year was so big. Everyone wants young employees, or they’ve already got them.”

“You’ll get it,” your roommate assures you. You’re doubtful, but her encouraging words lift up your spirit ever so slightly. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks, Wendy.”

She smiles before leaving your room, shutting the door behind her like a true best friend. You really appreciate Wendy, and her uncanny brightness and constant friendliness.

The job hunt continues.

Three days before the deadline and you’ve only been able to make a couple thousand won for helping an old lady with her groceries up several flights of stairs. Like a true procrastinator, you are somewhat stretching out your search — which you know you shouldn’t be doing — but it’s not like a new job offer will just pop out of thin air. They’re all taken, all of them. You knew not going directly into a career after graduating was a shitty move, but you did it anyway, and here you are. Besides, what can you do with a history degree anyway when history teachers are a dime a dozen?

Wendy is making no mention of Jungkook, which you are very thankful for. She knows how you feel about borrowing money from him, so he is, essentially, out of the picture. Or, so you hoped he was.

As you’re lounging around on your sofa, lazily scrolling the forums for any more job popups, your phone rings.

It’s Jungkook, because of course it’s Jungkook, and the very fact that he’s calling you rather than texting you makes you know that this is serious business.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! How are you?” Jungkook exclaims on the other end.

“Busy,” you reply, sort of telling the truth but also sort of lying. Yes, you technically are busy with your job hunt, but you are also not busy with your job hunt thanks to your superior procrastination skills.

“Busy? Is now a bad time?” You can practically see the concern on Jungkook’s face.

“No, you’re good. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you could meet me at the company? I have a favor to ask you,” Jungkook asks.

“A favor?” You sputter, clearly surprised. A favor? Since when was he the asker of favors? For as long as you’ve known him, it’s almost always been the other way around. Now you really know this is something serious.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. We could go out for lunch too, if you’d like. There’s this great Italian place that just opened up in Gangnam that we could try—”

“So soon?” You ask, looking down at yourself. You most certainly do not have your Gangnam style on, thank you very much.

“If you’re cool with that. I’d like to meet up sometime today, though,” says Jungkook.

Wendy walks into the living room where you sit, having your conversation. She can tell immediately from your furrowed brows that it’s Jungkook you’re talking to.

What’s he want? She mouths.

He wants a favor, you mouth back. And lunch.

Go! Wendy motions as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She may know a thing or two about your harbored and quite frankly, unsurprising crush on Jungkook.

You look back at her like she has fifteen heads, surprised that she’s so adamant about you going on this outing with the boy. She merely glares at you in response, a single eyebrow raised. You know you’ve lost this debate.

“Sure,” you say into the phone at the same time that Wendy pumps a fist in support. “Give me fifteen minutes to get ready and I’ll be over soon.”

“Great!” Jungkook exclaims into the phone. “See you!”

The second you turn the phone off, you’re about to argue with Wendy about her decisions made throughout the entire conversation, but she cuts you off, shoving you into your room and in front of your closet.

“Scream at me later, you have a date!”

“It’s not a date!” You whine from behind the closed door. “It’s just… an outing!” You mentally facepalm. Yes, this is a date. You know you can hear Wendy snickering from the hallway as you shuffle through your closet for the nicest dress you own.

The ‘company’ Jungkook was talking about is his skyscraper of an office building smack dab in the middle of Seoul, his name plastered in big metal letters across the top reading, JEON CORPORATIONS. It’s hard to mistake it for anything else, really, and as you step off of the bus right in front of his building, you’re as intimidated as always. Every time you come to this building you tell yourself not to look up, and every time, you do.

You feel so out of place walking into the pristine building, the floors marbled and the walls gleaming. The lobby, as per usual, is sparkling, likely a result of Jungkook’s need for everything to be as neat and tidy as possible. Even when you were little, his room was always spotless and his schoolbooks ordered by height, then color.

You swear you’ve been to Jungkook enough times while he’s at work for the staff in the lobby to stop questioning you, but protocol, you guess. It’s not very often a young, lost girl stumbles into the building without a product to sell or a camera crew behind her.

“Hi,” you say to the lady at the front desk. She has an earpiece in and her hair is tied tightly back to reveal the crisp collar of her blazer. “I’m here to see Jeon Jungkook.”

“Name?”

You give her your name and she shuffles through her computer, clicking away before she shakes her head, friendly but professional.

“You’re not on his list.”

You roll your eyes and sigh. You’re never on his list. His list is for businessmen and authorized interviews and people who have a meeting with him in his big meeting room with those leather chairs that are surprisingly uncomfortable, not you. Surely his staff should recognize you by now. You show up a the building once every week or two.

“He asked me to come here,” you say through clenched teeth. Like he always does is on the tip of your tongue, but you keep your mouth shut so you don’t get confronted by those terrifying security guards of his.

“Oh,” the lady says, disregarding your comment completely. “You’ll just have to wait until he’s free, I guess.”

Lord knows when that will be. You know you can’t necessarily stomp up to his office without any sort of authorization, but you assume that if you’ve done it before, you can do it again.

“Thanks,” you say, not thankful at all. You walk up to the elevators before the lady can say anything to stop you, and get in before she can get out of her seat to kick you out of the building. His office is on the top floor — surprise, surprise —so you hit the button and wait in silence. Luckily, Jungkook isn’t awful enough to force you to listen to that shitty elevator music. You spend the brief ride thinking on what you might say to the big men guarding the door to his office, but before you can come up with anything plausible, you reach the top floor.

As expected, once you approach his door one of the big men places his hand in front of the handle, preventing you from going inside.

“Name?”

“Ugh,” you reply, tired. “Y/N. Can’t I just go in?” These guards can’t be as dense as his staff downstairs.

“Sorry, Miss, but Mr. Jeon is busy right now. Is it urgent?”

“He invited me here,” you tell them, as though that will change anything.

“Mr. Jeon made no mention of that to us, so unfortunately, I cannot let you inside,” the other big man says.

You stretch over the hand covering the door and knock on the wood roughly and loudly. The guards are affronted, you can tell, but you really don’t care. They both step in front of the door now, their heavy bodies blocking the entire thing from view.

“Jungkook! It’s me!” You shout over them, hoping your voice pierces through the mass of wall and big men.

Not long after, the door opens.

“Y/N? Here already?” Jungkook asks, forcing the two big men to step aside. “I didn’t think you’d get here for another ten minutes.”

“I got an earlier bus,” you reply.

“Mr. Jeon?” One of the men interrupt. “Do you know her?”

Jungkook looks to his guard before he glances towards you, eyes wide with fear. You’re glaring at him, your eyes squinted and arms crossed. “Yes, she’s a good friend.” He grabs your arm and pulls you inside. “Thanks!”

The moment the door is closed, Jungkook braces himself.

“You know how much of a pain your staff was to me today?” You shout at him. “I swear, they made me lose five years of my life. Why am I not on your fucking list?” You push his chest, but he is strong as hell and doesn’t even move.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “I’ll try to remember to remind my staff that you’re authorized to be here at any time.”

“Yeah, you punk,” you reply, collapsing on the couch he keeps in his office. It is, for the most part, untouched, your body normally the only thing that ever sits on it. Jungkook doesn’t let very many people into his office, let alone allows them to sit on his couch as crassly as you.

“I’m glad you got here. I could ask you for the favor now, while we’re at lunch, or after,” Jungkook says, leaning back in his office chair. Sometimes, when he runs out to go settle some deal or simply use the bathroom, you spin yourself around in it. It’s a rule that when you are met with a wheely office chair, you must spin.

“Tell it to me now, because I have a feeling I’m not going to like it, and then the lunch can compensate me,” You advise, not even looking at him as you lie on your back.

Jungkook chuckles. “How do you know you won’t like it? I haven’t even told you.”

“You never ask me for favors, Jungkook,” you remind him. “I think the last time you asked me for a favor, YG was still a thriving entertainment company.”

That comment elicits a laugh out of Jungkook. “Listen, you have to trust me, Y/N.”

“I never trust you, Jungkook.” You smile as you sit up on his couch, beaming at him.

“Well,” Jungkook begins, and you’re already shaking your head. “My family is coming from Busan to visit next week, and within the next couple weeks I have a ton of business parties and get-togethers, so—”

“I am not going to iron your fucking suits, Jungkook. You should know how to iron things by now,” you immediately say, sternly. If Jungkook asks you to come over to his extravagant penthouse just so you can do his laundry one more time, you’re going to explode.

“No, no, that’s not what I was saying,” Jungkook laughs. “Let me finish, you get too ahead of yourself.”

You sit back, mildly intrigued as to what his favor might be.

“You know that my family’s pretty adamant about me having a relationship, and at the business parties I keep getting asked about a girlfriend, so I was wondering if you could accompany me as a pretend girlfriend, almost?” He asks, wincing.

He should be wincing. This is definitely the weirdest thing someone has asked you in forever.

“A pretend girlfriend?” You ask, confused.

“Yeah, like, you would walk around with me and we’d pretend to be dating and stuff. I was going to just find some other girl, but you’re the one I, uh, trust the most.” Jungkook scratches at the nape of his neck, nervous. “Like, you know the most about me anyway, and it’s practically like we’re dating already, except we’re not.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll pay you. And buy you nice things.”

That gets your attention. Payment? To hang around Jungkook? Normally, you’d be declining in almost an instant, refusing to accept money in return for your company. But now, in a situation like yours, with your debt payment creeping up on the horizon and a futile job search, it actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“For how long?” You ask, intrigued.

“Um, a few weeks, I guess. You could move in for that time period too, if you want. It makes it seem more realistic,” he offers.

If Wendy was with you right now, she’d be making an elaborate display behind Jungkook that spells out one thing, which is no way. You know it’s a bad idea; the ghost of Wendy is hissing it in your ear. You’ve seen the movies, you know how all fake relationships end up, and still, you are genuinely considering taking the offer. If Jungkook is offering you a couple of weeks where you can finally experience what you’ve been dreaming of doing for years, then perhaps it might not be such a terrible idea after all.

“I could?”

“Sure, I have tons of space,” Jungkook says without a shadow of a doubt. He seems pleased. “It’s so lonely up there. I could use some of your company.”

“Really? Never pegged you as a people person, you know,” you tease him. “You’re always so aloof and distant.”

“Don’t tell me you’re believing what the media says about me now,” Jungkook says, exasperated by you. Tiring him out happens to be a favorite hobby of yours.

“Oh, don’t worry, you big oaf. I just don’t know if this fake dating thing might be a good idea,” you say.

“It’ll be fine,” Jungkook says reassuringly. “We’re already best friends, so it’s not like anything will change. We’re just friends.”

“Just friends.”

“Just friends,” Jungkook states. “With a bit of kissing on the side.”

“What?”

Jungkook laughs at your reaction, your eyes blown wide in surprise at the notion of kissing him. You’re in shock at the idea of kissing him, the boy you can’t help but love, but also in shock with how calmly he brought it up. Hasn’t he seen the movies? Doesn’t he worry about what might happen to your relationship?

“We have to kiss, we’re dating,” Jungkook chuckles.

You open your mouth, about to respond when Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out and jumps up from where he was leaning back on his desk, grabbing your hand and his suit jacket as he pulls you towards the door. “Our reservation!”

“What! You made a reservation?” You exclaim as he nods to his security guard and tugs you into the elevator.

“Yeah. We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“But won’t this seem kind of… I don’t know, scandalous? Reporters wait outside your building every day. They’ll see us!” You worry.

Jungkook looks down in between the two of you and holds your hand, interlocking your fingers. It’s not unusual for you to hold hands often — it’s become a symbol of friendship — but this time, it feels different.

“Yeah, and you’re my girlfriend now, so I don’t care.”

The first thing Jungkook wants you to do is move in for the next few weeks.

You don’t have to bring too much stuff, just enough for you to live at my place. I can buy you new clothes if you want, he texts you as you are stuffing your suitcases with all of the clothes you deem necessary to survive in a new environment. It doesn’t matter that Jungkook is rich beyond belief and could probably accommodate you like a king, you want your goddamn pajamas.

“It’s going to be so lonely,” Wendy laments as you pull your suitcase towards the door to your apartment.

You laugh, amused. “You’ll be fine. I’ll keep you updated, no worries.”

“Damn straight you will,” Wendy says back, eyeing you with such a ferocity that you know you can’t back down from your unofficial promise. “Are you only taking one suitcase?”

“It’s got all my shit, my clothes, my laptop, my toiletries,” you say, shrugging. You know you’re forgetting something, you just can’t exactly pinpoint what it is.

“Alright, if you say so. When’s your bus?”

“In like, ten minutes, I think? I’ll probably go outside and wait there,” you say, slipping into your sneakers.

Wendy’s gazing out the window, appearing particularly confused at what she’s looking at. “I don’t think you’ll need to take the bus, Y/N.”

“Huh?”

You walk up to where she stands, eyeing the landscape outside. Below your apartment, you can see half of a gleaming black limousine, waiting. Without thinking twice, you know it’s from Jungkook. Of course.

“I hate this boy,” you sigh. You didn’t even tell him what time you’d be leaving your apartment, and still, he does this.

“Better go, don’t want to keep that limo driver waiting for too long,” Wendy says, pushing you towards the door before you’ve even got both sneakers on.

“What?”

“See you in three weeks!”

You find yourself just outside the door to your apartment, and when you turn around, you are met with Wendy’s beaming face right before it shuts in front of you, signifying that you are no longer allowed to be in the apartment.

Once you’ve migrated downstairs, the driver greets you politely before ushering you inside the limo. Only the best for you, is what’s written on a notecard on the table inside. Fucking Jungkook.

You have to say, Jungkook really does spare no expense for your comfort, evidenced by the expensive mini-fridge stuffed to the brim with sodas and brownies and the pristine leather seating. It makes you feel out of place, really, your worn-in clothes sitting in such fine seats. Then again, you normally feel out of place whenever you’re surrounded by Jungkook’s expensive belongings.

The drive finally comes to a halt in front of Jungkook’s building, yet another skyscraper that hurts your eyes to look up at. You offer to tip the driver on your way out, holding twenty-thousand won out for him to grab, but he declines, telling you that he’s already been paid plenty, courtesy of Mr. Jeon, obviously.

At least the security guards at Jungkook’s own penthouse know who you are. You have no issue trying to coax them into letting you inside, them having already been notified of your arrival. You merely bow towards them as they let you inside.

Much like his office building, every time you visit his home you are taken aback by how extravagant yet stunning it is. The place is fucking immaculate, from the walls to the floors to the little turtle figurine sitting on his coffee table, likely worth more than several of your student debt payments. His house looks practically untouched, but you know that under the first impression lies a lived-in and loved abode. You can see it in the faint wear in the couches and the dullness of an otherwise brand-new refrigerator.

Jungkook isn’t there to greet you, probably too busy having some aggravating conference call or with his headphones in, playing Overwatch, but his stuff is. Normally, you’d flop onto his couch and stare at his built in television until he came out of his room, but with a suitcase in hand, you don’t really know what to do.

I’m here, you text him. He gets the notification instantly, and no more than a few seconds later, emerges from his cave.

“Oh! You are here,” Jungkook says, surprised to see you. “I thought you meant you were outside my building, or something.”

“Nope, they let me in. Nice place,” you comment.

“Oh yeah, like you haven’t seen it before,” Jungkook laughs. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” you breathe in relief. Even though his penthouse is triple the size of your own apartment, it feels cozier. Perhaps that’s just Jungkook. “I feel like it’s been awhile since I came over.”

“Yeah, we’re always going out and shit instead,” Jungkook agrees. He gazes down to the suitcase by your legs. “Do you want me to take that for you?”

Before you have a chance to tell him no, you’re fine, you’re a big girl, he’s reaching down and picking up your suitcase with both hands, the muscles of his biceps peeking out of his white t-shirt. It makes your breath catch in your throat, but you pass it off as a hiccup as he leads you down the hallway. The two of you walk straight past the guest bedroom you slept in whenever you would stay over for a night, much to your confusion, as he brings you into his massive master bedroom.

“Uh, Jungkook?”

“Mmm?” He hums back, leaning down to place your suitcase on the ottoman in front of his bed. It drops onto the cushiony seat with a great thud, and he dusts his hands off before turning around to face you. “What’s up?”

“Aren’t I staying in the guest bedroom?” You question him, unsure of what he may be hinting at.

Jungkook chuckles. “No, silly. If my family’s coming over to stay for a few days, then you need to stay with me. They think we’re dating, remember?” He taps his head, as though he considers this ‘thinking ahead’.

“So we’re sleeping together?”

That makes Jungkook crack up. “No! Unless you want to, of course. I’m not opposed.”

You glare at him as he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “In your dreams, babe.”

You suppose sharing a bed with Jungkook won’t be too bad. You used to do it all the time as children, so other than age, what’s the difference? His room is gorgeous anyway, probably bigger than your entire apartment back in the outskirts of Seoul. Sleek and monochrome, which could be considered boring if it weren’t for the splashes of color in his red t-shirts and blue beanbag chairs.

You’ve reached the point with Jungkook where neither of you have very definitive boundaries. The second you open your suitcase to fish out your slippers, he’s digging in there with you, picking through your clothes and shoes and observing every single piece.

“You’re the fake girlfriend of a young multimillionaire and you bring this to my place?” He asks, holding up your ratty sweatpants that you’ve owned since secondary school.

“They’re comfortable, leave me alone,” you snap, snatching them back and placing them inside your suitcase. “Not all of us have money to drop on Gucci sweats.”

“I’m staging a fashion intervention,” Jungkook declares, standing up straight.

You look up at him, a single eyebrow raised, as he grabs his sunglasses from the table next to where you’re sitting and tries to put them on in one fluid motion. Unfortunately, he misses completely and ends up poking himself in the eye, making you laugh.

“Yes, very suave, babe,” you say, rubbing his arm soothingly.

“Don’t talk about it. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I’m taking you shopping.”

You can’t even open your mouth to protest — Jungkook has done enough for you already — because he’s dragging you and all of your unprepared glory out of his shimmering penthouse and into one of his very many pricey cars, gleaming just like the rest of his belongings.

“Jungkook I really—”

“Oh shush, Y/N. I want to treat you,” Jungkook replies, zooming out of the complex’s garage and into the busy streets of Seoul. “My family’s coming over tomorrow. They’ll skin me if they see that I don’t buy you nice things with the money I have.”

“Wow, way to give me a nice image,” you joke.

“Trust me,” Jungkook pleads, shooting down the road. “I’m in the spotlight. I know what looks good.”

He finally stops in a parking garage that leads to the most high-end mall in the area (thank God, Jungkook was always a terrifying person to be in a car with. Every time you get in a car with him, you hold onto anything he can. He’s ruthless.), making your eyes widen. You slowly tilt your head down and look at your clothes in comparison to the boy’s pristine tee and skintight black jeans. He never lets you get ready for anything.

“Jungkook, I look like a trash bag,” you hiss as you walk inside. The mall is decently empty, save for the two of you and a couple other couples with heavy wallets. Jungkook is hardly paying attention to you, his focus drawn to the extravagant window displays of the stores you never dreamed of walking into.

“We can just buy something for you change into,” he says, waving off your concern. Your brows furrow as he stops in front of a store before cruising in. The ladies waiting by the doorway bow respectfully towards the two of you. Your eyes widen at the sight of the gold lining and expensive clothes. You feel like you can’t even touch this shit.

You take a seat on one of the couches in the main room as Jungkook peruses around, pointing at different articles of clothing without a care in the world as the attendant following him rushes to pull them from the racks. After several painstaking minutes, Jungkook returns with a hefty pile of clothes and a hefty price tag.

“Try these on, Y/N. There must be something you’ll like. I tried picking out the most comfortable things. We can get a dress at another store.”

A dress? You mouth to him as the attendant opens up a fitting room for you. Just then, it dawns on you that a nice dress is exactly what you were forgetting when you left your apartment, and Jungkook must have noticed. Jungkook sends you into the room with a wink as the door shuts.

“Don’t forget to show me each piece!”

And so, the process begins. Jungkook went way overboard, you think as you stare at the pile of clothes on the bench. It’s like the kid didn’t know where to stop. Eventually, after what must have been an hour of change, show Jungkook, criticize the article, repeat, you leave the store with a decent sized bag, worth much more than a mere student debt payment.

“Jungkook, next store we go into, don’t pick so much fucking shit,” you order, shoving him gently.

Jungkook chuckles. “But I like seeing you twirl around for me. ‘S cute.”

“Shut up,” you say, your cheeks heating up. You, if possible, stuff yourself further into the pricey hoodie Jungkook bought for you.

The next store you head into is much more posh. Somewhere along the way from the first store to the second, Jungkook had grabbed hold of your hand, the two of you interlocking your fingers together, and you hadn’t even noticed until he let go when you sat down on yet another couch.

“Do you see anything you like?” Jungkook asked, sitting next to you. “I won’t pick out stuff for you this time.”

“All of it,” you say jokingly, gazing around. Jungkook looks about ready to ask the attendant for everything, but you stop him. “I’m kidding.”

You get up to wander the racks, wondering if your hand is rich enough to feather through the silk and satin. Eventually, you stumble upon a white dress hidden in the corner of the store. It’s gorgeous, stunning and exquisite. Flower petals decorate the bottom hem of the dress and fade out as they move inward, with colors ranging from purple to blue to a pastel green.

You’re so enraptured by the dress you don’t even notice Jungkook walk up behind you. “Do you like this one?” He asks.

You, at a loss for words, nod. With a single wave of a hand, an attendant is taking one off of the rack in your size and shuffling you into a fitting room. If the dress looks ethereal, it feels divine.

When you emerge from the fitting room, the dress cinching at the waist before poofing out like a waterfall, Jungkook isn’t paying attention. He’s having one of his angry phone calls, probably with some business partner, lecturing into the phone with his brows furrowed. You cough to get his attention, and his mouth practically drops open.

“I’m gonna call you back,” he says into the phone before dropping it on the cushion of the couch.

“I take it that you like it?” You ask, twirling.

“Is it that obvious?”

“I dunno,” you laugh. “You seem pretty starstruck to me.”

“I’m speechless, babe,” Jungkook admits, scratching the nape of his neck. “You look great.”

You beam at him, taking in the luxury of it all. You, standing in the middle of an expensive store in a high-end mall, spinning around in a dress that feels like wearing a cloud, with Jungkook staring at you in his Armani goodness, lost for words. If this is a dream, then may the Sandman never leave your side.

“Good. I think so, too,” you smile, your hands brushing over the fabric.

You change out of the dress as Jungkook hands over his seemingly limitless credit card to the attendant, who rings you up as you come out of the fitting room with the dress draped over your arm, practically drowning it.

Jungkook immediately holds your hand, as though it’s almost second nature at this point, and the two of you walk out with yet another large bag, the high-end brand stapled all over it.

The rest of the afternoon is spent bouncing around the mall, divulging into shared macarons and ogling the window displays for all of the upcoming trends. Jungkook offers to buy you anything your eye catches, though you constantly decline, telling him that the new clothes are enough to keep you satiated. He eventually does coax you into buying some new shoes “to go with that new dress of yours”, cute pumps you already know you’ll abandon three hours into wearing them. You never really had time to shop before this, since you were always busy with your job and your work towards a master’s, but now, dancing around the marbled floors with Jungkook grinning fondly by your side, you feel like you could do it forever. Sometimes, Jungkook’s company is all you need.

(The facade shatters when you return home, laughing with glee at some hilarious story you brought up from when you were both mere children, and Jungkook writes you a check for suspiciously just enough money to get your upcoming student debt payment off of your back. Right, you think. None of this is real.)

“I think it’s been months since I last saw your parents,” you say the next morning, making your side of the bed as Jungkook does his. God, all of this is so domestic, it makes you want to hurl. Or grin.

“They miss you,” Jungkook replies. “I haven’t exactly… told them that you’re my girlfriend. I just said that I had a girlfriend.”

“Surely they must have recognized me from the tabloids,” you say. Those reporters have really been milking your one outing to that lunch place.

“Probably not, since I forced you to put on sunglasses in the car ride there,” chuckles Jungkook. “They’ll be pleased. It’ll get them off of my back for a while so I don’t have to deal with their constant whining to ‘get a girlfriend’, ‘get a girlfriend’.”

You leave your side of the bed to fish around in the dressers Jungkook is forcing you to use, because “if your suitcase is here, then this will seem really sudden”. You pull out your socks — Jungkook’s floor is damn cold — and tug them on as you make your way outside his carpeted room. You’ve slept in, the sun high in the sky by the time you’re making breakfast.

“Shit, my parents are getting here in an hour,” Jungkook swears as he checks the time on his phone. “This place looks like a shitstorm.”

You roll your eyes. Even in Jungkook’s definition of a shitstorm, his abode is more immaculate than yours could ever be.

“You clean, I’ll make breakfast,” you say.

“Just give me some cereal, please,” Jungkook asks as he shuffles around, getting the empty crisps packets and straightening out the blankets strewn over the arms of his couches.

“All you fucking have is cornflakes,” you observe, severely disappointed.

“They’re all I eat,” Jungkook says, shrugging.

“You’re a bland man, you know that, Jeon? Bland,” you comment, shaking your head as you pour two bowls of cornflakes for yourselves. Jungkook is intent on keeping his glass dining table sparking, which keeps you limited to his breakfast bar stools.

You eat your breakfast in relative silence and fairly quickly, allowing you more time to rush around and make things perfect before his parents arrive, much like when you and Wendy would clean up right before your landlord came for an inspection. Jungkook’s giving you instructions for when they arrive, telling you to not walk in until after he’s started talking about his mystery girlfriend to add an element of surprise.

“They have to think it’s cheesy and realistic as hell,” Jungkook reminds you as the minutes tick down.

“Stop telling me what to do, you little piece of shit,” you sneer back. “I can handle your parents.”

He shrugs. “If you say so.”

Barely five minutes later there’s a buzz that sounds throughout the penthouse, alerting the both of you of his parents’ arrival. Jungkook’s eyes widen as he stares at you from across the guest bedroom, where the two of you currently are, fixing up any last minute items. He bolts out of the room, leaving you flustered as you walk behind him. He’s already at the front door before you reach the end of the hallway, evidenced by the cries from the doorway of “Jungkook-ah!” and his muffled voice, likely a result of his father’s bone-crushing hugs.

“Where’s this girlfriend at?” A gruff voice asks, and you assume that must be his older brother, whom you did not know would be joining you. You and Jeonghyun never really got along.

To fit in with the perfect timing that Jungkook wanted, you walk out of the hallway at that exact moment, rendering his family members speechless.

“Jungkookie, did you see where I left my lip balm?” You ask as cutely as possible before immediately deciding in your head that everything about that sentence and the way you uttered it was unnatural. You haven’t called Jungkook ‘Jungkookie’ in literal years.

“Y/N?” Jeonghyun immediately asks, eyes wide. “Is that you?”

“Jeonghyun?” You ask in response. The boy doesn’t look like he’s changed one bit.

“You’re dating Y/N?” His mother realizes, clearly elated. “As in, little Y/N who teased you for falling into the mud as children?”

“Eomma,” Jungkook whines.

“Nice to see you,” you greet, holding out a hand. Jungkook’s mother completely disregards it and pulls you in for a hug. When she finally lets go, his father does the same.

“It’s been so long, Y/N! Look how grown-up you look! Very pretty,” his mother compliments.

His father lightly slaps Jeongguk on the shoulder. “You should have told us you started dating! We would’ve come down sooner.”

Jungkook meets eyes with you, and you know that that’s exactly why he didn’t bring it up. Jungkook loves his parents, he really does, but sometimes they can be a bit overbearing.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N,” Jeonghyun says, his outstretched hand as stiff as the rest of his body. “Should we let bygones be bygones?”

“It’s been years, Jeonghyun,” you reply, shaking his hand firmly. “You and I have no reason to hate each other anymore.”

“Oh!” His mother exclaims, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and leading you from the doorway. “Tell me, Y/N, is Jungkook treating you well? He’s very picky, sometimes. He won’t eat zucchini, did you know that?”

Jungkook looks helpless as he watches you get dragged away by his mother, and you shrug, letting him know that you’re fine.

“Jungkook is treating me perfectly,” you assure his mother. “It’s almost as though it’s not even real.”

Sometimes, you’re glad Jungkook can’t hear what you have to say. He won’t be able to hear the heartbreak in your voice, waiting to happen.

Jungkook’s family has long settled into their respective rooms within the next hour, and Jungkook’s finally gotten you away from the watch of his mother. The two of you are lounging around in his room, on his ottoman.

“Are you okay?” He asks, rubbing your shoulders. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” you promise. “No worries.”

“I’m worried about you, Y/N. You’re normally never this silent,” he says, concern lacing his eyes.He grabs your hand and rubs your thumb with his own. It’s so soothing, you almost forget the aura of falseness surrounding your every move.

“I’m okay, Jungkook. I’m just busy thinking, that’s all,” you swear, looking up into his deep brown eyes. They are beautiful and rich, and you can’t help but let yourself drown in them.

Just then, Jungkook pulls you towards him, his hand resting on your cheek, and presses his lips to yours.

The first thing you notice is that they’re chapped. The second thing you notice is this tingling feeling that tickles you as it dances across your skin. The third thing you notice is how your heartbeat has gotten unmistakably faster. This is no fireworks display, no electrifying spark. You had always imagined kissing Jungkook would feel like a supernova, a dramatic burst of stars within the galaxy, illuminating the night, but it’s far from it. Kissing Jungkook is like returning to your bed after months abroad, like revisiting your favorite childhood locations, like taking a bite of your most beloved dish. Kissing Jungkook feels like home in every sense of the word, because he is everything you love and everything you wish to come back to.

You break away before you allow yourself to become too consumed, because a single taste of his lips is all you need to become addicted. With burning cheeks and heavy breaths, the two of you gaze into each other’s eyes, like neither one of you were expecting that.

“Is this a bad time?” Jeonghyun’s voice asks from the doorway to Jungkook’s room, red in the face after interrupting what he thought was a moment. Only then do you realize that the kiss was nothing more than a show, a purposefully done act just to convince Jungkook’s family even further.

With the ghost of the feeling of his lips on yours, you break into the saddest smile you swear you’ve ever given and shake your head. “No, you haven’t disrupted anything.”

Dinner that night is a ruckus, to say the least. Between Jungkook, his mother, and his father scrambling around his kitchen to cook the meal and you and Jeonghyun fishing around the cabinets and closets in his dining room to set the table. It’s a group effort, really, and once dinner and all of its side dishes are on the table, it finally feels worth it.

You and Jungkook sit next to each other at his monster of a dining table, and even though no one’s watching the two of you, he holds your hand under the table.

“So, Jungkook,” his father begins heartily, his voice booming without even trying. “When did you start dating Y/N?”

“Um,” Jungkook says, looking towards you. Your eyes are wide, since neither of you discussed beforehand what your backstory would be. “A couple of months ago. I wanted to keep her out of the spotlight so I didn’t really say anything.”

“How’d you even fall for her anyway, Jungkook-ah? You kept telling us you’d never date someone while you were still in your prime,” Jeonghyun asks, his mouth full of seaweed.

You remember those days. Since Jungkook turned twenty, he’s refused to engage in a committed relationship. You’d often ask him why, and his simple answer was that he didn’t want to deal with the media nor did he want to be tied down. What made him change his mind?

It’s your turn to look towards him, see what he might say. He meets your eyes and takes a breath.

“I-I don’t know,” he stutters, the hand grasping yours getting tighter. “Y/N’s always been there for me. It wasn’t some noticeable event or anything, nothing I can recall. One day I just realized that I was irrevocably in love with her. I never knew why I didn’t see it before.”

You thought hearing the words coming out of his mouth might get you out of your facade, remind you that none of this is real and Jungkook’s just saying these things for his family, but when the words meet your ears, you can’t help but hear sincerity in them instead. You’re probably dreaming it, hoping for the words to be true so much that you’ve tricked your mind into thinking they are. But when he meets your eyes, looks into your eyes with those bright round moons of his, you can’t help but fall even harder.

“And you, Y/N?” His father notions towards towards you.

Oh God, where do you draw the line between what’s real and what’s fake?

“I don’t think I realized it until recently, but I’ve always been in love with Jungkook, from the moment we met as kids. I don’t think I could imagine a life without him by my side,” you say, hoping that the rawness that bleeds into your words filters out before Jungkook can think about them too hard. You place a hand on his soft cheek, rubbing it as his hands come up to meet yours. “He is my everything, my nebula and my supernova.”

Perhaps it’s better this way, if you’re honest now and a liar later. They say the best actors are the ones who feel like their character, because then you can’t tell where the actor ends and the character begins.

“I want to barf up this nice meal,” Jeonghyun says. “You two are disgusting.”

“Yah!” His mother chides. “They’re adorable. I’m so thrilled you finally worked up the nerve to start dating Y/N, Jungkook-ah.”

“Yeah,” he says, letting go of your hand. “It was a long time coming.”

You spend the rest of the dinner talking about other things, like Jungkook’s work and your education and things happening back home, in Busan. Jeonghyun is married now, the honeymoon phase having long worn off and left mutual respect and trust in its place. He says his wife is beautiful, smart, and demanding, but doesn’t look like he’s complaining.

It’s nice to hear what the Jeons are up to, what you’ve missed out on after not contacting them for so long. It feels like old times, when you would stay at Jungkook’s for dinner during secondary school and discuss his family affairs as though you were a part of them. Jungkook never held your hand back then. You wonder why he’s only starting now, if no one can see your interlocked fingers anyway.

Late at night, after his parents and brother have migrated to their respective guest rooms for the evening, you and Jungkook cruise around his penthouse before eventually coming to a stop in his room, where he closes the door. The moon is high in the sky at this hour, the light filtering in through the slits in his blinds and making patterns on his carpet.

“Good job today,” Jungkook congratulates you like an actor would congratulate a costar after a long day of working.

“Thanks,” you reply, indifferent, changing into your pajamas. “You too.”

“You really won them over with that galaxy shit,” Jungkook comments, as if you need further reminding that this entire setup is in fact, pretend. “I don’t think I’ve seen my mother swoon so hard since she met my dad.”

“Oh?” You ask, glad at least one person found sincerity in your sappy speech. “That’s good.”

“It was good. Even I wanted to shed a couple tears,” Jungkook chuckles, sliding out of his tee. “It sounded straight out of a movie.”

“What about yours?” You change the topic. If you have to keep listening to Jungkook applaud your entirely genuine confession as though it was some kind of act, you don’t know what you’ll do. “Yours was nice, too. Artsy for a boy who speaks the language of business.”

“You thought so? I made it up on the spot, I was under a lot of pressure,” Jungkook smiles, climbing into bed. “Couldn’t you tell?”

“You seemed fine to me,” you say truthfully. “Seemed pretty legit.”

“God, I hope so. I’m sorry about kissing you, earlier. Jeonghyun just seemed skeptical at first,” Jungkook apologizes, and you don’t know why your heart still falls from its cage in in your chest if you already knew the kiss was nothing more than for show.

“It’s fine. Feel free to do it again whenever necessary,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re a good kisser, you know. I could get used to it.”

“I’ll start kissing you more often, then. All the more for the act, right?”

“Yes, the act,” you agree, nodding your head. “It’s all an act.”

Once you return from his bathroom after washing up, you climb into the bed with him, the sheets warm from his body. His bed is large, too big for two people, let alone one, and even with the both of your bodies in it, you feel too far from him, like one more move and you’ll drift away. You slide in a little closer to him, hoping he won’t say anything. If he could just let you have this, this peace and quiet in a bed that feels like home because he’s here, then it’s enough.

Jungkook is facing away from you as he lies on his side, shirt off and back muscles visible. Before you know it, your eyes are falling shut, the day tiring on your mind and body. The last thing you see is Jungkook turning around to look you in your sleepy eyes, a fond smile growing on his lips as you lose consciousness.

You don’t know it, but Jungkook watches you after you fall asleep. Your hair falls in front of your face with a quick shake of your head, and he feels a compelling urge to move it from your cheek, his fingers brushing your skin. You look so innocent when you’re asleep, like your mind isn’t racing from one thing to another like it does when you’re awake. A small smile dances on your lips as you dream, and dream you may.

“I want you to know my confession today was real, Y/N,” Jungkook says softly, admiring your peaceful features. The words he utters are words he’s been hoping to tell you for years, but perhaps it’s better if you’re not awake to listen to them. Maybe they are words you shouldn’t hear. “I want you to know I love you, but sometimes we shouldn’t always get what we want.”

You could get used to waking up like this.

The light of the rising sun filters through the windows of Jungkook’s bedroom, shining on the bed where the two of you lie. It is quiet in his grand room, the only noise being the rustling of the sheets as Jungkook milks the last few minutes of his sleep cycle. Other than the sun, it is dark in the room, providing just the right amount of light for Jungkook to look ethereal, though it’s not as though he doesn’t look golden any other hour of the day.

You could get used to waking up like this, next to the boy you love in a bed that you could technically call yours. Jungkook’s still facing away towards you, his eyes barely closed and a dried path of drool marking his skin. At this hour, he looks like everything you’ve ever wanted.

You simply wait for him to get up, and for all you know, it could be hours later, but you lose track of time following the strands of his hair that hang over his eyes and the curve of his lips as he snores ever so lightly.

Eventually his eyes open, still hazy from sleep, and he smiles when he sees you gazing at him.

“Creep,” he says, but you can only pinpoint fondness in his words. “Staring at me sleeping.”

“It’s the one time I can catch you not saying any sort of dumb shit,” you joke back, ruffling his hair.

Jungkook pretends to be affronted as he sits up in his bed, wiping the spit from the side of his mouth. “I’m insulted. Sometimes I can be intelligent.”

“Sometimes,” you say, getting out of bed. “What are we doing today?”

“Lounging around at home, I guess?” The boy shrugs. “I don’t have anything planned, but count on my parents to drag us out somewhere.”

“That’d be cute,” you say, not opposed to the idea.

“I know, I just hope it’s somewhere inside. My rhinitis gets aggravated when I spend too much time around flowers,” Jungkook says.

You beam at him, blinking your eyes innocently as you lean over his bed towards him. “Is that why you’re always sniffling around me?”

He scrunches up his nose in response, pushing you away as you burst into laughter. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N.”

“Oh, you love me and my flowery ways,” you tease.

“That I do,” Jungkook agrees as he shuffles through his walk-in closet for something to wear. A single glimpse and you can see the wall of white tees that he hoards, something you will never fucking understand. “We’d be so domestic if we stayed in today, like a true millennial couple.”

“Truly.”

The both of you pull on things that aren’t pajamas before emerging from your cozy cave. No one else is awake yet, meaning the two of you get first dibs on breakfast.

“Corn flakes again, you boring piece of shit?” You ask as you make your way to his designated cereal cupboard.

Jungkook sneers at you from across the room, where he’s made quite the dent in the cushions of his pristine couch. “Very funny.”

He gets up to join you in the kitchen as the two of you hunt for something to eat.

“Pancakes?”

“I don’t have any eggs,” he admits, making you scoff.

“What kind of multimillionaire doesn’t have any eggs?” You ask rhetorically, in disbelief. How does this boy sustain himself?

“I haven’t been shopping in a while!” He exclaims defensively. “There! That can be what we do today. Let’s go shopping.”

“Like a true domestic couple,” you say as you pick up the most bruised banana you have ever seen, and take a bite of it anyway. Jungkook truly has no breakfast food, other than the leftover sticky rice from last night.

The rice seems to be on Jungkook’s mind as well, as he fishes through his industrial-sized fridge for the pot with the plastic wrap over it.

“Here, let’s finish this,” he suggests, placing the pot on the counter and grabbing two dishes. “Then we can go shopping.”

Jungkook eats his rice quickly, encouraging you to do the same so the both of you can go shopping before his mother chides him for having no food in his expensive penthouse. The both of you are out on the streets of Seoul by nine, where the sidewalks have emptied after the school and work morning rush. Jungkook keeps your hand firmly in his as he speeds down the pavement to the nearest grocery store, a simple market on the corner of a road, unaffiliated with the wealthy people who live in the buildings nearby.

“Those reporters are going to have an aneurysm,” Jungkook comments as a flash of light goes off to his left. “Jeon Jungkook, millionaire, goes grocery shopping with girlfriend. Has the world ended?”

Once you’re inside the quaint place, the two of you walk around, holding up different food and asking the other if it’s necessary.

“You can get whatever you want, you know,” Jungkook reminds you as he stares at the shelves lined with cereal. “I don’t have much of a budget.”

“But we can’t just lie around eating corn flakes and chips all day,” you whine as you pluck your favorite, interesting cereal from the shelf and place it in the cart.

“You sound like my mother,” Jungkook complains.

The two of you spend a good five minutes arguing about brown sugar versus white sugar, because Jungkook doesn’t seem to know the difference, and doesn’t understand why you can’t just use white sugar for everything.

“Brown sugar has health benefits! It’s not as bad for you,” you insist, shaking the bag of brown sugar in front of Jungkook’s face.

“But all sugar’s bad for you! You’re just telling me that brown sugar has less bang for your buck. Who wants that?” He criticizes. “If we’re going to be unhealthy, we might as well just go all the way!”

“The point of brown sugar is its health, you dumbass!” You exclaim.

“Why don’t we just get both, then?” He sighs as he grabs the packet from your hand and places it, along with the packet he holds in his, in the cart. “Problem solved.”

An old lady passes by the two of you as you both sneer at each other, still disagreeing. She chuckles as she walks by, stopping her cart beside yours.

“The both of you are so sweet,” she comments. “You remind me of my husband and I, when we were young like you. How long have you been together?”

“Oh, we’re not—” You begin, but Jungkook cuts you off.

“A couple of months,” he says, pecking your cheek. The faint touch of his lips leave a tingling sensation behind as you shiver.

“You seem very infatuated, the two of you,” she says, smiling. “Young love is inspiring to the world.”

She keeps going, nodding her head goodbye as she leaves the two of you and your sugar debate.

“What was that for?” You hiss as the two of you make your way down the next aisle. “She doesn’t need to know that we’re dating.”

“Sure she does,” Jungkook says, shrugging. “What’s wrong with showing the world how happy I am with you?”

Jungkook’s family leave the following afternoon, bidding farewell to the two of you as they usher their suitcases out of his doorway.

“You did well, kid,” you hear his father say as he pulls Jungkook in for a side-hug. “You keep doing well.”

“Yes, appa,�� Jungkook says.

“Don’t let that girl go,” he advises as you wave an amicable goodbye to Jeonghyun, whom you hope you can get closer. “She loves you, Jungkook.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, and you don’t think he really does.

“Y/N?” His mother asks, placing a soft hand on your shoulder. You turn around to see her small frame, and hum in interest. “Can I speak to you?”

“Sure,” you say, letting her walk you away from the herd at the door.

“I want to thank you,” his mother says.

“Really? It wasn’t a problem, hosting you—”

“No,” she interrupts. “Not for that. I want to thank you for teaching Jungkook what it’s like to fall in love.”

“Oh,” you say, embarrassed. With every word uttered from his parents’ mouths, you feel worse and worse about lying to them.

“Ever since he was little, it was his education first, then his business, and I was so worried that all he would ever be was a businessman, but you’ve changed him. I’ve never seen him so absorbed in someone before,” his mother says, and you wonder how good Jungkook’s acting skills really are if his mother was fooled that badly. “He really loves you, Y/N. I’m sure you already know that, but I don’t want you to forget it. One day you might fall out of love, but cherish these moments that you have with him.”

“I will,” you nod, smiling. You do cherish these moments, these brief few weeks in the span of your lifetimes where for once, you don’t have to pretend like you’re not in love with the boy.

The next week is when Jungkook’s infamous business parties begin, the ones that require you to look your absolute finest as you walk around in pinchy heels with thin glasses of champagne that you won’t drink.

Jungkook seems noticeably more stressed about these gathering than when his family came over, getting more tense as he goes through his countless suits to find the right one, stretching out his ties from the pressure.

“You okay, babe?” you ask as you come up behind him as he’s squeezing the life out of some dress pants. Tonight is the first one, and you’ve just emerged from the shower, wrapped in a towel.

Jungkook turns around to meet you, taking in a sharp inhale when he sees you in nothing but a towel. Of course. “Yeah, I’m fine, why?”

“You seem uptight,” you say. “Nervous?”

“A little,” he admits. “I’m worried people will see right through us. The people at these parties have status, wealth, connections. If we look fake, then they’ll be able to tell.”

“We had your parents fooled,” you assure him, rubbing his back to relax his muscles. “Come on, big guy. You know you got it. You play around with the media once every week. This should be no different.”

“You’re right,” he finally says, feeling a bit better. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Look at you go,” you cheer him on.

If Jungkook looks good in a bland, white tee, he looks breathtaking in a sleek black suit, hair brushed messily in front of his forehead and a gleaming silver watch on his wrist. He looks so unbelievably professional, the sight making your breath hitch in your throat as you open the door to the bathroom and see him pacing up and down the hallway.

“Are you ready? I don’t want to be too late,” Jungkook asks, getting a bit antsy.

“Almost, I just need to grab my bag and put on my shoes,” you say, looking down at your dress. You have a slight stain from an orange that you were snacking on earlier, but it’s hardly noticeable and nothing the Tide-to-go pen can’t fix.

You open the door all the way, decked out in the dress you fell in love with in the store a week or so ago, and Jungkook stops in his tracks.

“Can you see the stain?” You ask, eyes widening as you fumble around the dress for a way to disguise it.

“You look beautiful,” Jungkook says, making you pause. “Mind-blowingly beautiful.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, waiting for you to step out of the bathroom completely before grabbing a hold of your waist and pressing you against the wall, making you gasp in surprise.

“Jungkook?”

“You are stunning,” he mutters, pressing in closer. “Gorgeous.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply as he leans in to kiss you. It takes you aback but you gladly welcome his touch, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. He smiles against your lips, his cheeks warm and his eyes bright, and your heart bursts at the sight of him, against you, loving you.

“You’re really milking this whole fake relationship thing, aren’t you, Jeon?” You ask as you push him away before the stain sets in your dress.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook repeats, like a mantra. “The fake relationship thing just lets me show that I think that through kissing instead of insults.”

“I’m touched,” you say as you place a hand over your heart.

“We should go,” he says, “Whenever you’re ready?”

“I’ll be good in like two minutes, relax, hey babe?” You raise your eyebrows, rubbing his shoulders. You shuffle around his penthouse one last time, grabbing your bag and rubbing your to-go pen on that little spot before meeting him at the door, where you slide into the heels he bought.

Jungkook is the talk of the fucking town, him and his millionaire status, and the limo he’s rented to take the both of you to whatever high-end country club you’re visiting is simply evidence of that. When you pull up to the joint and he emerges from the shining black car, people whisper, but when he opens the door for you to step out, people talk.

“They love you,” he whispers as you link arms. He guides you towards the center of the room. Around you are stars, business moguls, celebrities, people you see in magazines and in the headlines of articles. Jungkook can see your hesitance to be so close to people like him, rich and famous and beautiful. “Stay close to me, alright?”

You nod as he leads you around, saying hello to old business partners and friends of his as they talk like buddies, hugging and patting each other on the back. You keep quiet, under immense pressure to look as fabulous as the rest of the people there, graciously accepting the little sandwiches and champagne the waiters scurrying around offer you on silver trays. You feel so out of place at an event like this, where you can’t make jokes at your own expense or spill things on yourself.

Everywhere you go, you notice people talking about you, whispering to their friends and their partners as they point to the both of you, and it freaks you out.

“Why do they keep talking about us?” You hiss into Jungkook’s ear as he takes an elaborate fruit skewer from a caterer.

“You’re the most beautiful girl here,” he says back. “Why wouldn’t they?”

At one point, you lose Jungkook in the crowd that just seems to get bigger, getting left alone at a table as you let your poor feet rest. You eventually spot the tuft of his familiar black hair as he filters around, jumping from person to person. It seems like he knows everyone here, or at least, everyone here knows him.

A man sits across from you at the round table, holding up his half-full champagne glass in your direction.

“You came here with Jungkook, correct?” The man asks.

You nod.

“I’m Taehyung, a friend of his. You are?”

“Y/N,” you say quickly, the conversation stressing you out. You hate feeling so out of place.

“It’s nice to meet you. Are you looking for Jungkook?”

“No, I know where he is,” you assure him. “I just wanted to sit down.”

“It’s tiring, walking around and trying to fit in, isn’t it?” Taehyung says, making you turn your head sharply towards him. He chuckles. “Trust me, I know how you feel. You did look a bit lost.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not when everyone’s looking at your dress and not at you,” Taehyung says, offering some sort of consolation. “These people can smell fear, but they’re addicted to beauty, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m just on edge, you know?” You say, exhaling as you take a sip of your champagne, the taste burning your throat as you down it.

“No one’s going to do anything. They can all see how infatuated the two of you are with each other, clinging to each other like koalas,” Taehyung says, making you sigh a breath of relief. At least the people here believe the act as well. “It’s nice to see Jungkook like this. It keeps him grounded, you being here. He has someone to hold onto, someone to love.”

Just then is when Jungkook approaches you, sitting down in the seat next to you and chugging his champagne in a single shot. “Taehyung?”

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook-ah,” Taehyung smiles towards the boy.

Jungkook smiles back. “You too, hyung.”

“I was just talking with Y/N, here. She was worried without you.” Taehyung motions his head towards you and Jungkook turns, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry, babe,” he says, lightly pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll bring you around next time.”

“These heels are fucking murder,” you mutter, tugging the back edge of them off your feet for some relief. “How do people stand in them all day?”

“You’re just not used to the heels life,” Jungkook jokes. “You live in sneakers.”

“This is reminding me why I do,” you groan.

Taehyung bows out, waving goodbye to the two of you as he goes off to mingle elsewhere. Jungkook lets go of your shoulder.

“What was that all about?”

“I dunno, he just started talking to me,” you say, shrugging. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is, he’s just normally not so upfront like that. Did he pull anything on you?”

You laugh at Jungkook’s concern, shaking your head. “No, he didn’t. You don’t need to be so stressed about that. Taehyung was telling me, everyone knows that we’re dating.”

“Of course they do, the media says it all. I’m just worried they think it’s all for show,” Jungkook says.

“We had Taehyung fooled,” you assure the boy, smoothing out the wrinkles beginning to form in his suit jacket.

“One down, dozens to go,” he beams towards you, standing up from his seat and holding out a hand for you to take. You interlock fingers with him, and he pulls you up, ready to face whoever else wants to speak with the both of you.

Eventually, as the night turns into early morning, you make your way onto some sort of balcony, gazing into the stars.

“Did you enjoy this?” He asks without looking at you, his shoulder leaning against yours.

“The food was nice,” you reply, distant.

“But did you like walking around and talking to people?”

“It was fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?”

“My feet are killing me, but the people here aren’t bad people. Just not for me,” you say, shrugging. “I much prefer looking out into the stars than being inside, listening to rich people complain about rich people things.”

“It’s peaceful out here, isn’t it? Just us and the stars,” Jungkook asks. “You did great today, though, if it’s any consolation. Remind me to pay you when we get home.”

Right, the payment. The foundation to your fake relationship. It was the reason you accepted this in the first place, right?

“No need for payment,” you say, shaking your head.

“But surely there must be something you want, eh? A new dress for the next event, concert tickets, the like? I can get you anything you want,” Jungkook asks, adamant on rewarding you for your work. All of this feels like such bullshit.

The champagne buzzes in your system. The glass door to the balcony opens, and you know someone’s watching you now. You turn to Jungkook, who’s looking at you lost and confused, like he doesn’t know why you won’t accept a gift from him in return for your fucking presence, but he is better than any gift you could get.

“I just want you,” you breathe, the alcohol making you sound more desperate than you want to appear. You’re not drunk, just buzzed, and Jungkook is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. “You are all I need.”

Those words are all it takes for your reserve to break and you meet his surprised eyes with a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. He parts his lips, allowing you entrance, pressing deeper, deeper, pulling him in closer, closer.

“I don’t want to look at the stars anymore, Jungkook,” you whisper into his open mouth as he catches his breath. There’s no need to wish on things so far away when there are stars decorating his pupils instead. “I want to go home.”

Home you go. Jungkook barely has enough time to shut the door behind you before you’re pressing into him again, desperate for another kiss. You know you’ll never be brave enough to do this again, so you take the chance that he’s giving you, holding on for dear life.

He begins to take over, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip to gain access to your mouth. He’s leaning into you with his whole body, not just his lips, running his hands along the sides of your figure as he sighs over and over again. Jungkook leaves your parted lips with a heavy breath before moving onto your ear, nibbling at the edge playfully, making you laugh, then your chin, neck, collarbones, pressing kisses onto every peek of skin he sees, like he can’t get enough.

You inevitably stumble into his bedroom, still fully clothed, but fall onto his bed with a soft thud, making you jump before you pull him in closer, your back to the sheets with him looming over you, lips still tugging at a spot right below your neck.

“This wasn’t in the deal,” you joke, though now isn’t the best time to remind him that your entire relationship is a game of make-believe.

“Do you want to stop?” He breathes back.

“Never,” you whisper, and it’s all he needs for him to dive right back in.

You yank on his suit jacket, not-so-subtly hinting to him that you want it off, and off it goes as Jungkook removes it in a fluid motion and flings it across the room, wasting no time away from your soft lips or warm skin. He can’t help but move his hands all around your body, your thighs, hips, waist, shoulders. He drags his fingers over them lightly, making you giggle from the ticklish sensation as he presses his lips everywhere he can, everywhere he wants to.

“Are you sure you’re sober enough for this?” He asks, just to double check as the two of you sit up and you begin to unzip yourself out of this fabric prison. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

“How could I ever regret you?” You counter, letting the straps of the dress fall from your shoulders to reveal your relatively drab bra. You can’t say you were very prepared for this. “I want you, hey? Do you want me?”

Jungkook’s mouth drops as the top half of your dress falls from your body, piling at your hips. “Ever since this evening, I’ve wanted you. Please.”

He whispers his desires into your skin and breathes his lust into your parted lips, hopes that you can hear the way he wants you from the sound of his fingers as they dance along your body, from head to toe. There is no tomorrow, no yesterday. There is only now, and now is right here, his body pressed against yours.

He may not love you but he may love the feeling of you, and in your hazy, desperate state, that is all you need. That even just a toe in the water is better than nothing at all.

When you’re all cleaned up and tired out a few minutes later, he wraps his arms around your own and tugs you in for a post-sex cuddle in his bed, the sheets cold but his body warm.

“How was that?” He whispers, the sleep evident in his voice.

“Like a dream,” you reply, hazy.

“I promise that it wasn’t,” he says before rolling over, a marker that he’s about to crash.

Some days, like today, you wish that it was. Maybe that way, you won’t be as heartbroken when it ends.

It seems like Jungkook’s business parties never stop. They are endless, a new one to attend to every day. Each morning, when you are awake but he is not, his phone will buzz with a new notification, a reminder from his calendar that he has So-and-So’s gala tonight, or What’s-His-Face’s celebration. You royally underestimated how many events Jungkook had planned for the duration of your stay with him, assuming you would spend the several days in between each one doing fun couple-y things. Instead, every day is a rinse and repeat cycle of getting ready to go out for the evening.

Jungkook takes you shopping on the one free day he has in between gatherings, his reasoning being ‘Rich people and their significant others don’t wear the same thing twice’, easily one of the most pretentious things you’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. You feel like you’re constantly about to attend an awards ceremony with the dresses the two of you pick out together, fancy clothes by fancy designers that people will judge you for wearing. If this were a movie, you’d be thrilled, flaunting the fifteen shopping bags hanging from your arms, but this is no movie, and these bags are heavier than they look.

“God, why is being a rich person so tiring?” You sigh as you collapse onto the couch when you finally return to his penthouse, letting the bags drop from your arms onto the floor beside you.

Jungkook is in the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. “Now you know it’s not all cameras and money.”

“It still is, don’t you think? It’s just, cameras and money but more in-depth. There’s a lot of shit that goes behind the cameras and money.”

“Fair point,” he reasons, joining you on the opposing couch, letting his feet rest on the glass coffee table in front of him.

“Do you ever get sick of this life?” You wonder aloud.

“Sometimes. Some days, when the cameras and money are too much for my mere twenty-year-old self to handle, I wish we could go back in time. To high school, maybe. When my only responsibilities were maintaining my schoolwork and I had time to lounge around in unpresentable clothing and play videogames.”

“High school you was the worst,” you joke. “You were so unbearable.”

“I wish we could go back time just so I could stop being ‘the worst’,” Jungkook laughs. “Seriously, I wish we could go back. That nostalgic shit, you know? It’s meaningful. High school was my first time for a lot of things. First fight, first kiss, first love.”

“First love?” You ask, curious. You sit up from where you lie on the couch, meeting Jungkook’s eyes. They are wide when they gaze into yours, as if Jungkook said something he didn’t mean to say. “Who?”

“Oh, um, just some girl from chem,” he says, scratching the nape of his neck.

“We were in the same chem class, who was it?”

“Dahyun,” Jungkook spits out, like he’s on edge. “Remember Dahyun?”

“Oh, the one with the dyed ends. Yeah, I remember her,” you say, recalling the bubbly girl that sat in the front of the class. She was always talking, but never in an annoying way. “You fell in love with her?”

Jungkook’s expression softens as he moves his eyes from yours to his hands, thumbs twiddling in his lap. “Yeah, I fell in love.”

To say that you and Jungkook stopped having sex after that first business party would be a complete lie. It appears to be a ritual now, by the fourth business gala, for the two of you to end up leaving early, pressing each other against the wall with breathy moans in each other’s ears. You can’t say it’s the most healthy of options for your emotional state, but how can you resist him?

Every night, you find yourself getting closer and closer to confessing, to revealing everything felt for him, feel for him, will feel for him. But you bite your lip each time, keeping the words from spilling out as the two of you fuck, because it’s not really making love if only one of you is in love.

Jungkook’s a heavy sleeper, but even heavier after a hearty night of sex, and it’s the perfect time for you to tell him, when he can’t hear you.

“I love you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his bare torso and pulling yourself closer to his body. “I love all of you, every piece of you.”

This is how it is, this is how your life is. The two of you will bounce around his apartment when you’re getting ready, grabbing his kitchenware and playing knights and princesses, like you did when you were little. That nostalgia truly is meaningful, you realize, wishing to remain in it without having to return to the troubles of the present.

His final business party rolls around on a gloomy Saturday evening, the clouds covering the stars you can barely see from the city of Seoul anyway. The weather knows you, you think as you prepare yourself for the last night you will ever spend with the boy in his penthouse as a girlfriend, as a lover.

Jungkook knows this too, but his resolve is strong and words even stronger.

“Don’t forget, I’m driving you back home tomorrow,” he says as you pluck the final dress you will wear from the rack. He’s walking around his bedroom, picking up any clothes on the floor that belong to you and placing them into your suitcase. “What time do you need to be home?”

“Wendy’s welcoming me back for dinner, so anytime before then,” you answer, indifferent. Jungkook always does such a good job of reminding you that what you have with him isn’t real.

The night begins just like every other one. As per usual, the two of you are leaving things until the last minute, especially your packing. You’re resisting the need to pack your belongings into your lone suitcase so you’re ready to leave tomorrow, acting as though you’ve forgotten about it entirely as you scurry around his apartment trying to get ready. Every time you pop into your bedroom to grab something, Jungkook is moving around, picking up any clothing items that belong to you and placing them gently in your suitcase. You don’t want to leave, but he wants nothing more than that.

The dress you’re wearing tonight is black. You joke that it’s to mourn the end of your fake relationship, but it’s the closing screen to this three week period of nothing more than a facade, a facade you fell for anyway. Somehow, throughout these weeks, all you’ve managed to do is fall for Jungkook harder, even though you knew the affections he displayed towards you were fake. A royal fuckup, in your opinion.

Jungkook looks like a damn prince in his getup today, a white suit accented with black to complement your own outfit, and it’s both a blessing and a curse that he looks so fucking good on the last night you will spend together like this.

“Ready to put on one final show?” He asks, holding out his arm for you to link yours with as you emerge in your silky black dress and kitten heels.

Lights,

Camera,

Action.

The sole thing that distinguishes this particular gala from the dozen others you attended is its location, a primo hotel with a ballroom, something reminiscent of a castle. You have to admit, it’s the nicest one you’ve attended so far, elegant and fancy without being over-the-top.

At this point, you’re used to walking around with Jungkook, used to people saying your name and greeting you like old friends. You’re known now, thanks to Jungkook and his many parties, top stars and business moguls recognizing you from prior engagements or even magazine articles.

“Look at you go, queen of the night,” Jungkook beams as he drags you away from another company acquaintance, one you had a nice conversation with. Namjoon, his name was.

“Please, you’re the royal one here,” you say back.

Jungkook shrugs, taking a sip of his champagne, still sparkling in its glass. “Guess that makes us the king and queen, eh?”

King and queen is right. Halfway through the night, the ballroom opens, leaving the floor empty and free for anybody who wishes to let loose. Neither you nor Jungkook are the dancing type, but the two of you suppose that on your last night, you can afford to have a little fun, scooting into the edge of the open space and lightly dancing. Jungkook might be flawless when it comes to business offers, but he is less-than-flawless when it comes to unchoreographed dance. The two of you stick to the side, allowing more confident, better dancers to occupy the center.

A slow song comes on. You feel like you’re in high school, only it’s no sappy love song, no, it’s the waltz. The fucking waltz. And it just so happens that during this waltz, you and Jungkook are pushed into the center of the crowd, forced to dance.

“I’ve never waltzed before,” you chuckle as Jungkook places a hand on your waist.

“Me neither,” he replies, taking your hand in his and holding it out like everyone else is. “Let’s wing it.”

It’s as if time stops completely. Suddenly, you forget that you’re in a crowded hotel ballroom, surrounded by people who will be earn more money in a day than you will in your entire life. Suddenly the herd phases out, turning into a blur, and all you can see clearly is Jungkook in front of you. Jungkook, who is holding your hand and your waist and gazing at you and fucking waltzing with you. The night is upon the ballroom, the light of the moon barely illuminating the room. One more step and Jungkook is in perfect alignment with a window, glowing in the moonlight.

It’s your last night, isn’t it? Last night of this, of looking at Jungkook like this and failing miserably at your plan to try and not fall in love with him, and so you do what you feel like you must.

At first, Jungkook doesn’t react. Perhaps he’s too absorbed in the placement of your feet, or your position in the crowd, but he soon comes to when he realizes your lips are on his, humming delightedly in response as he presses back.

As cheesy as it sounds, this kiss is nothing like your other ones. There is nobody watching, nothing to prove anything to. In this moment, you are simply in love, and that’s the feeling that the kiss delivers.

Love.

It’s a silent confession, almost.

No heavy breaths after this kiss. The two of you break apart, barely noticed by anyone around you, your bodies dancing without the two of you thinking about it. You’ve moved just enough to be in front of the window, the moonlight making your eyes glossy. Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, his mouth red but not swollen.

“What was that for?” He whispers, leaning in to your ear.

In that moment, you respond with the only words that come into your mind. “You are kissable always, but especially so in the light of the moon.”

The waltz ends, and Jungkook leads the two of you away from the center of the ballroom hastily.

It’s a silent confession, but almost is never enough.

Jungkook is silent the entire limo ride home, and you wish he would tell you why. He isn’t necessarily annoyed or angry with you, but he is distant, cold, exactly the man the media paints him to be. You bombard him with sentences that demand a response the entire way home, until the two of you end up in his penthouse once again.

“Jungkook, listen, if this is about the kiss then I can explain—” you begin, following him after he storms off the second the two of you walk in the door.

Jungkook stays mute, making a beeline for where his wallet and checkbook lie, strewn over the kitchen counter.

“I still need to pay you for your work,” he spits out quickly. You catch up to him just as he’s scribbling out a hefty check for you. “We’re finished here.”

“Jungkook—”

“I do hope this check is satisfactory — I tried to stay consistent with the other payments I’ve—”

“Enough with the fucking payments!”

Jungkook finally makes eye contact with you, a little jarred after hearing you shout so crassly. “Then… how about a car? Or clothes? Jewelry? What else would you want?”

“You!” You shriek, breaking the dead silence as the word resonates around you. Your voice is softer, now. Sadder. “I want you, Jungkook. Can’t you tell? I don’t want a house, or a car, or clothes, just you. I just want you.”

Admittedly, this is not the confession you were hoping for.

Jungkook is floored. His checkbook has dropped from his hands to the counter, empty checks crinkled. He’s looking at you like he’s desperate for you to say something else. “Me?”

“I have to admit, I never really imagined that I’d tell you like this, but I guess I am,” you try to joke, your eyes getting increasingly watery. “I’m in love with you, Jungkook. I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You see the panic as it grows on Jungkook’s face, how his expression morphs from surprise to worry, and this, this is exactly why you should have just kept your goddamn mouth shut.

“But how can you be, Y/N? That wasn’t part of the deal. What we have, what this is,” he says, motioning between the two of you, “isn’t real. You and I, we’re just pretenders. We aren’t real.”

“But I was hoping we could be!” You exclaim, letting your tears fall freely down your cheeks, leaving ugly patches in your makeup. Perhaps, if Jungkook has seen you at your best, he should also see you at your worst. “Can’t you see? Everything I did with you, the kissing and the hand holding and that fucking confession with your parents, it was real, my love for you is real, and I thought maybe we could be real too, but I-I guess not.”

You make to wipe the tears from your eyes, hoping to sooth yourself through this conversation, but you change your mind at the last second, leaving the tears dripping from your cheeks to your dress.

“Y/N,” Jungkook begins, wary of what to say. You already know what’s about to come out of his mouth. “You don’t understand. I just—”

“You just what, Jungkook? You just what?” You ask, your sobs nearly turning into laughter in some sickeningly sad sort of way. “You don’t need to tell me twice, Jungkook. I know how you feel about me. We’re just friends, that sex we had, it was just for these few weeks, it didn’t mean anything. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you never forgot to pay me, always reminded me that what we were doing was fake, make-believe. I know you Jungkook, I know you don’t love me and I don’t know why I expected otherwise, but I did. And here we are.”

“Y/N, that’s not what I meant,” Jungkook says, desperate for your to hear him out. “I didn’t know—”

“I know you didn’t, Jungkook, but you didn’t need to. I have all of the information I need,” you say. “I don’t blame you for not loving me, Jungkook. I just… I wish you would have told me, so I wouldn’t have had to play this fucking game with you.”

The light in his hallway isn’t turned on but it doesn’t need to be, not as you walk through it, hiccuping down your sobs as you come to your room, his room. Anything within eyesight that you know belongs to you you pack, carelessly throwing it in your suitcase as you begin to remove yourself from his apartment. You’re almost out of his room once and for all when you eye the dresses laid out on his comforter, each of them gently placed over the previous.

You leave his room in pajamas.

Jungkook hasn’t budged. He’s glued to the floor by the kitchen counter, his checkbook still astray, and he’s looking down. When he hears your suitcase hit the hardwood, he looks up.

“I know we said tomorrow morning, but I don’t think I can stay here for one more night,” you tell him. “I’m sorry, Jungkook.”

The boy is silent.

As you reach the door, you turn around a final time, at exactly the same moment he looks up at you. Is that sadness you see? Regret?

Your hand lingers over the doorknob, hesitant. Perhaps he will say something, anything. If he could just… say something, you’d stay. If.

If.

If he says nothing, you will leave.

A tear rolls down Jungkook’s cheek.

You open the door.

You say that Jungkook needs a few days to calm down, but Wendy says that Jungkook is a “piece of shit who, if he really loved you, would try to get you back the second he lost you”, and perhaps the worst part of that is the fact that both are probably correct. You’ve cried already, let your tears out in the comfort of your own pillow as Wendy pops in every hour with a new bucket of ice cream or frosting and the like, and Jungkook has made no attempt to bridge the ever-growing gap between the two of you. Wendy, the most fiercely loyal friend you have, will, at times, snoop the media for any news on him. All she can find are question marks on your relationship.

A month drags by, duller without Jungkook’s beautifully wispy smile lighting it up, but not emptier. The local museum has employed you, finding great use for your historical expertise with its artifacts and paintings. You never realized it, but staring at ancient pots and fading paintings, trying to make sense of them, is your favorite pastime. The memories of your time with him, shopping bags and movie tickets and name cards, they are hidden in a shoebox at the bottom of your closet, merely a touch away.

“Don’t you miss him?” Wendy asks one day as the two of you eat dinner.

“Miss him?”

Every day, you think.

“Sometimes,” you reply. “It’s hard to think about him these days.”

“It’s been a month.”

“A month too long.”

Wendy reaches a hand out, holding onto your wrist as she rub it with her thumb.

“I can’t look at him without the memories of that final night, the checkbook falling to the counter, his eyes blown wide. Bad memories always outweigh the good ones.”

“But surely, that could be considered a good memory?”

You laugh out loud. “How on earth could that be a good memory? He rejected me.”

“You confessed that night,” Wendy reminds you softly. “He knows, now.”

“But does he care?”

Wendy slides an envelope over to you, her name neatly printed on the back. At the top corner lies the return stamp, JEON JUNGKOOK lining the top row. “You tell me.”

You wonder if you’re on the list this time. You walk into his building, people in suits and pencil skirts scurrying around with books and folders and papers, bustling like worker bees. There’s a different lady at the front desk, but her hair slicked back and her collar sharp, all the same.

“Name?”

“Y/N,” you reply, leaning over the desk to get a glimpse of what she’s searching up.

“You’re on the list. Is it urgent?” She responds swiftly. This feels different.

“Is he busy?”

“His lunch break is in a few minutes,” the lady informs you.

“Can I go up?”

“Sure. I’ll tell his security personnel.”

As you make your way to the elevator, the lady picks up the phone and balances it on her shoulder as she types.

Jungkook doesn’t know you’re coming this time, and you’re hoping the element of surprise will be beneficial to your cause. It’s been a month, and Jungkook’s not only disappeared from the media, he’s disappeared from your life. If he won’t make a move, then you have to.

“Name?” The security guard grunts when he sees you approaching. There’s only one next to his door this time.

“Y/N,” you respond.

“There’s no Y/N on our list, Miss, so unfortunately—”

The other one comes jogging around the corner, slightly out of breath despite the fact that he’s incredibly buff. “They just let a girl up,” he says before making eye contact with you. “Oh. Well, she’s on the list now.”

“Really?” The first guard asks, eyebrows raised. “Alright Miss, go on in.”

The man opens the sleek wooden door, allowing you to slowly step in. Jungkook’s facing away from the door, his office chair spun around as he lectures somebody on the phone while staring out the window. You don’t know how to get his attention. Perhaps, if you run now, he’ll never even notice you were in here.

You continue to move forwards, trying to keep your footsteps quiet as you approach the couch you’ve collapsed on so many times. As Jungkook speaks, you can hear the exhaustion, the tension in his voice. He never used to sound like that.

This time, when you sit down, you sit up straight and on the edge of the seat, anxious for what will happen when Jungkook turns around.

It’s strange, being in here again, reminiscing of when you came for him to ask you the favor that began this mess. So many things are the same, yet so many things are different.

“Hold on, I’m getting another call,” Jungkook sighs, and you tense up, thinking he’s going to turn around. He doesn’t, merely takes the phone away from his ear for a few seconds before returning it. “Hello? Wait, another client? Right now? God, alright.”

You wonder who Jungkook may be talking about when the office chair rotates, leaving you face-to-face with Jungkook himself, the phone still held up to his ear.

It drops to the floor. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say, avoiding his gaze.

“What-What are you doing here?”

“Why do you think I’m here, Jungkook?” You ask sadly.

Jungkook purses his lips. “I have things to say, too.”

“Would you like to say them to me now or should we go out for lunch first?” You joke, smiling nostalgically.

Jungkook chuckles as he stands up, grabbing his suit jacket from where it’s draped over his chair. “Let’s go out to eat. There’s this great Italian place that opened up a while ago in Gangnam.”

“Sounds great.”

Once there, it seems that neither of you know exactly what you’d like to say, keeping the conversation limited to the menu and the weather. The tension is thick in between the two of you, settling on the table like dust.

“I finished the brown sugar,” Jungkook blurts midway through your meal. “I used it all up in my tea.”

“Did you like it?”

“I felt healthier,” he says.

“That was the goal,” you say. “You know, when we bought it.”

“I know.”

Silence falls.

Jungkook coughs, clearing his throat as he swallows down another mouthful of pasta before continuing. “You know why I told that lady that we were dating?”

“To be a nice person, I guess?” You suggest.

“No,” Jungkook says, placing his fork down with a clang. “I told her, a woman who would never know who we were, never need to know our stunt, because I was hoping that maybe, if I said it to her, it would be real.”

“Jungkook—”

“You scare me generally, Y/N, but you especially scared me when you told me you loved me.” Jungkook exhales. The both of you have stopped eating, at this point. “I thought — I thought maybe you were acting on feelings that were fake, that you has simply fallen in love with the idea of me, a rich guy who could pay for your wildest hopes and dreams. I didn’t trust your feelings, but more importantly, I didn’t trust my own.”

You open your mouth to say something, to explain yourself, but Jungkook beats you to it.

“You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst and vice versa, they are moments not worth romanticizing because we are loud, messy people. But those few weeks we had as a couple, fake or not, it was a taste into a dream I didn’t know I had and I never wanted to wake up. You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but I did, anyway.”

“You’re such a sap, Jeon,” you say playfully, nudging his shoulder. “That was so cheesy.”

“The cheesiest confession for my cheesiest best friend,” he beams in return. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize my feelings in time for you to stay. I’m sorry that it took a month for me to finally come to terms with them. I’m sorry that you loved me before I knew I loved you.”

His hand is on yours now, your fingers touching in the middle of the table as he draws mindless designs on the back on your hand.

“Saying yes to your proposal was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long while,” you admit. “I knew what would happen and yet I still gave in, desperate for a chance to know what it’s like to have you. I’ve watched you, cheered you on from the sidelines for so long that I decided I wanted to try. It was a mistake,” you say, meeting Jungkook’s eyes as his expression falls. “I only fell in love with you harder.”

A smile creeps across Jungkook’s face.

“You’re right, you’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but neither of us have ever been very good at following the rules. I love you, Jungkook.”

“Is that a confession I hear?” Jungkook asks, bringing a hand to his ear. “I’m sorry, I think I missed it.”

“I already confessed to you a month ago, you little shit,” you say, scrunching up your nose. “Don’t push it.”

“For what it’s worth, I love you too, you know.”

“I know.”

Jungkook lets go of your hand, shoving it off the table. “Do you want to try this dating thing? Like, for real?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to ponder the offer. “I don’t know. What do I get out of it?”

“My unconditional love and affection,” Jungkook says as you roll your eyes. “And some nice things, every now and then.”

“I guess I’ll take it,” you say, letting the grin on your lips burst into a full-on smile.

Jungkook giggles, all of his teeth showing in that beautiful bunny-like smile of his. “If we weren’t sitting across each other in a booth, I would so kiss you right now.”

“Damn, cockblocked by a piece of wood,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Fuck you, wood,” Jungkook swears, making you laugh. In exchange for a real kiss, he takes your hand in his, pressing his lips to your fingers.

On the way back, Jungkook decides to take you the long way, weaving through the side streets of Gangnam as he points out different landmarks.

“Is this some elaborate ruse to avoid the reporters? You know you’re not very inconspicuous, right?” You ask as he guides you from the main street, taking you down a back alley littered with trash that probably costs more than your rent.

“Why would I need to avoid the paps?”

“Um, I’m here. A girl. Next to you. Holding your hand,” you say, motioning to your interlocked fingers.

A camera flash goes off.

“Are you my girlfriend, or are you my girlfriend?”

“Woah, woah, when did we cross that line? We haven’t even had our first date yet,” you say defensively.

“Count this one as number one, then,” Jungkook says before he’s running, cameras flashing as he bolts, his hand still interlocked with yours.

⇒ leave any feedback/requests here and check out my masterlist here!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts ceo au #bts fake relationship #writing #w: the millionaire and his lover #cameos by wendy from rv and taehyung + mentions of dahyun from twice and namjoon #i lowkey dunno what to tag this as #bts writing #so much hand symbolism

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