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koofleur · 7 days ago

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something 'bout you ★

: ̗̀➛ 01. intelligible propositions

The storm has begun, and so has a mirage of events that comes toppling over Jungkook's already chaotic life.

pairing : CEO!oc x secretary!jk tags/warnings: fake dating!au, banters, media and press exposures, mature language, light pov shift (only for the first paragraph, rest of it continues in second person pov) word count : 3176

۶ৎ ♡ 국 ; nin's diary ; finally??? set to begin this new journey, here comes *drumroll please* something 'bout you, i have put so much into this, worked on ONLY this first part for like god knows how many days, edited the first draft like a maniac for it to jump from 2.7k to 3.1k words, myself and my overthinking mind as witnesses.

this baby is my full length fic, with a lot of characterization and plotting, emotional backstories, etc that is bound for a messy, but real roller-coaster ride.

that being said, i present to you CEO!oc (our ruby) and secretary!jk. issues and backstories will be prominent in this fic that will influence their behavior and characters, which you will see as time progresses. please take care of them with love ♡ and lmk your thoughts/theories anything i would love to discuss,, inbox and comments always open!

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The caffeinated atmosphere, scattered papers and obviously tattered brain cells are literally eating Jungkook up, alive. An anticlimactic storm rages outside which makes matters worse because he was almost done with arranging schedules for her and was ready to retreat for the day. The digital calendar app open in front of him looks packed, a reminder of yet another treacherous week ahead. She was rather the empress, say. Almost 200 candidates later, Jungkook was the only one who persisted, for what was the longest, painfully slow 11 months in his life, as her assistant.

Her, Kang Y/N, CEO of K&E Group of Companies.

She had quite a plethora of achievements. 5 individual fashion chains, almost a dozen partnerships with revered establishments and what not, this woman was known.

However, she was indeed infamous for her loaded self which rubbed off the most on ones closest to her, unfortunately including Jeon Jungkook, for the mentioned 11 months.

“Jeon, my cabin. now.”

The storm reverberated through the silent building, but her voice tore louder, with weight, into his ears through the intercom. Jungkook lets out a huff before gathering the iPad and scrambling towards the cabin.

It was undeniably magnificent, though. Her cabin was almost the size of the entire living room of his shared house with a couple of friends. Pieces of artworks and different design samples from her jewelry line, Ruby, were displayed on the walls like an army of ants. They were red, emanating nothing but painful power. Ruby was the result of hours of team building and work, during which Jungkook was hired. It was chaos but he held through the entire process without crumbling down or resigning.

A day ago at ; “Ruby — the cut of confidence” launch event

second person pov starts.

You briefly eye the entire premise of your office building, all set to be ablaze in red as soon as the clock ticks 5 pm. Everything was perfect, under control, just like how you were. It was not the random super rich kids’ joy ride. You build this on stone, literally, and now letting it fire up, you were positive this jewelry chain was destined to break records.

“Jeon, give me the list of guests once again.” your hands outstretched, ready to have an iPad or piece of paper placed onto it, only to be met with an empty breeze.

“Jeon?” your face contracted, ready to get at him, but a look at his undeniably attractive visage and you could say there was something gnawing at his thoughts.

“Ms. Kang, I think we won’t be expecting Ms. Chaehee today.”

“What? She's the face of Ruby, Our model. She can’t back out at the last minute? I need you to do something about this and call their company manager. I don't care. Need her here by 5.”

“I’ve already contacted them, they flew her out to Hong Kong for a sudden brand meeting, is what I gathered.”

“What you gathered? Are you kidding me right now? Jeon, you have to be more responsible and give me an intelligible reason.”

Jungkook does not say anything, as he knew your reaction would be somewhere in the in-betweens of eating his ears with complaints and firing him.

But the latter wasn’t happening, despite the innumerable moments which made you furious in these 6 months — like that one time when his roommates dragged him to a party, urging him to “live a little” — their words, not his, and you find the draft guest list for the event missing, but he clearly remembers it was submitted well in advance. Nonetheless, that made you personally go to the club he’s at to get mad at his drunken self. A vivid and embarrassing memory it is, but none of you changed your ways after it, though.

He quietly moves away, arranging for a couple of calls, trying to get Chaehee here in the brief time, if she ever had, between the busy schedules. Work demands him to keep his head down and buried but his eyes wander through it, finding you, as he notices a state of unease lining your frame as you walk further ahead to avoid a swarm of reporters who are eager to spot even the tiniest of flaws.

Jungkook was multitasking at this point, the constant clamor of the press posed as a hurdle for him to diplomatically settle everything that had been thrown into his hands.

There was no alternative, Chaehee was not going to attend today’s event in person which he knows you could deal with later, but as a sudden wave of lights illuminate the surroundings he knew the media had spotted you, starting to throw questions hither thither.

Somehow, he rushes to your side through the crowd of shoulders, mumbling apologies to ones he had to forcefully make way past. You were already brushing past the splitting questions with practiced ease. Nevertheless, Jungkook caught a glimpse of something else—an unease in your eyes, a flicker of vulnerability hidden behind the poise and control. It was a rare sight, one he didn’t know you’d ever let on.

“Ms Kang! Our sources confirm that famous actress and singer, Han Chaehee, the face of Ruby, will not attend today’s event. Does this mean her departure from the contract even before its launch?”

The snarky remark elicited a scoff from you, and Jungkook was sure you were about to lose your shit with it, thus interjecting, he answered them. For you.

“It is a case of utmost emergency that has been dealt with by our team. Ruby— the cut of confidence will be launched without delay in about five minutes with Han Chaehee joining us online for a timely inauguration.”

He straightens himself, lightly stepping forward, nudging your forearm to usher you behind him, to continue the conversation with the media.

You practically snap your head in his direction as the reporters mumble amongst each other, making this whole mess a headline or two. You don’t care.

All you were struck by, even if you’d hesitate to admit, is Jungkook’s professionalism and how he managed to have it all under check.

———

Your eyes gleam in ruby. The event was a roaring success as you got a few updates on how well media is boosting its reach, the Chaehee situation all settled. The feeling of composure and reign resumed flowing through your senses, feeling like a million bucks already.

Meanwhile, unknowingly you searched for Jungkook for the third time this evening, you kept track of it, it was uncanny, but it’s just gratitude, right?

There he was.

Talking to the lady who was emceeing for the evening, his expressions appreciative as they go through the-

What the fuck?

You were certainly not a people-watcher, then why the hell did you find yourself scrutinizing the tiniest of interactions that concerned your secretary?

You could feel Jungkook's demeanor shift as you walk pompously towards him and the now long gone woman, who probably finished the discussion, for all you could care. The night bustles with glamour as you watch him eye your figure clad in a red satin dress and your very own designer earring, the exclusive edition ornament stays latched on your ears like cherry on top, catching the light around, shining.

“I didn’t expect you to handle that, well, situation out there.. you actually saved me tonight."

“I didn’t do it for you.” his words fall for a beat, before continuing;

“But I guess I couldn’t just watch it fall apart. Don’t get used to it.”

His body stiffens and voice simmers with depth as his hands traced patterns on the glass that held a shot of whiskey.

“You still need your paycheck, so I better get used to it.” you shrug smugly before attending to a couple other CEOs who in theory, graced the evening with their presence.

This was your way. and Jungkook’s too. He hated how well you knew his situation, how he needed this job for literal fucking vitality. He shares an entire single storey with two of his buddies, Yoongi and Jimin and often felt bad at how the elder of all three, Min Yoongi, a promising guitarist and producer who resorted to the small gigs thrown his way, tried to pay half of all the mortgage so as to lessen the burden on his brothers.

Yoongi has seen them at their worst. When Jimin lost his place in the ballet troupe he was a part of, because of an injury or when Jungkook often locked himself up in his room fixing up the mess at his family home in Busan, as he was funding its construction.

Jungkook had boundaries. He was determined to only show figments of himself at his best, especially in a work - setting. And tonight, he felt those slipping through his grip, as he stood up for you in front of the media, even though it was necessary, why was he steered by this sudden urge to protect you from the roaring questions? And it was during this chimera, you strided over, thanking him? those words barely ever left your pretty mouth, irrespective of the person.

He let out a sigh, which seems to have caught your attention as you look at him through the edge of your vision while talking to Kim Mingyu, the rising CEO, a star, in a grey tux who was eyeing you the entire evening, much to Jungkook’s perplexity because there, he sees you cozying up to Mingyu, being friendly.

And wow, a smile? Like the most unfiltered, non trust-fund baby one? That’s an emotion that sprouted almost never.

Your pearly whites shone through the reflection in the glass pane, back turned towards him, as you chatted away.

He got a glimpse at your happiness. For the first time. But at what cost?

Jungkook lets out a spiteful scoff as he empties the sourness in the glass and walks away, throat burning in fury. He was astonished at your lax attitude to the event, seeing you barely nodding to the emcee from the sidelines as she concluded the evening. The event was almost nearing its end, and since you’d be in your cabin in no time to run a few final touches, he leaves for the office upstairs, trying to get shit together beforehand.

—

Your heels click on the floor rhythmically, stretching and cutting through the hallways etched in silence, opening the door to the office as the night falls proudly outside the vast windows. Seeing Jungkook engrossed in work makes you roll your eyes; there was something about his quiet, unassuming nature that rubbed you the wrong way.

"Impressive work today, Jeon. You’ve really outdone yourself."

"You didn’t seem too impressed earlier when I was scrambling for you." he doesn't necessarily accept your backhanded compliment, but who could stop you from throwing another one?

"You looked like a headless chicken, but somehow it worked. Maybe I should hire you for chaos management." you deadpan.

Jungkook was a bit thrown off at your comment, as he scoffs in return.

“I already do too much for being just your secretary, Ms. Kang. Wouldn’t another department be too much?”

“You sound like you built this entire place, feeling entitled much from just talking to a few reporters today?”

You were amused at his indifference, because whatever you threw at him, he worked his butt off, there was no denying that what he did today was apt for the mess you were about to be in.

He did save you after all. While you admitted it, however, he brushed it off like its nothing, drawing the curtains to his territory closed. Like he always did.

“You were the one who thanked me for it, remember, Ruby?”

Your head tilts slightly, drawn to his last few words, as you take a seat on the couch sprawled across one-fourth of the room with a slight smile plastered on your face.

“Ruby? You mocking me, huh? It’s my event. I’ll do as I please. Thought you wouldn’t remember anyway, considering the way you shrugged it off back there.” you raise another questioning glance, watching him skim through your desk as if it’s his domain.

He continues to meander through the minutes of today’s gathering and swiftly rolls his sleeves, getting it out of the way, before turning to you, fully equipped with a retort.

“Well, it’s your empire, not mine. But I guess I’ll clean up your mess when it falls apart, like always.” a half-smile that followed the sentence pricks into your conscience, as if he’s prying it open.

He’s asking for it.

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you, now?” you stand up, facing him as he finally sets that damn iPad down, finishing your schedule, again ever so organized and perfect, much to your dismay.

You’d be the first CEO to be feeling sad? angry? at their secretary actually being put together for once.

Well, setting records and being unique was definitely your forte.

“Someone has to be the voice of reason around here, and it’s clearly not going to be you because you were flirting at a company event, Ruby. Those reporters were ready to serve your head on a platter. Talk about responsibility.” He muses into your face.

oh.

That's what he was on about all this while? Now you get it, why he downed that drink so damn fast, while you thought you’d never see jungkook lose his composure at work.

“Do you always watch people so closely?” you step forward, ignoring the fact that you were slightly out of breath at his reason.

“I’ve got better things to do than watch you charm your guests.” his eyes waver through for a second, you swore you felt breaths colliding before he steps back briefly, handing you the iPad.

“Here’s your schedule for tomorrow.”

—

present time;

Jungkook knew he was thoroughly fucked. Ruby? He was certainly not ready to give up this sweet life, yet. Then why had those words taken a leap and proceeded to call you something like that? It was doubtlessly the magic of liquid courage that tangled up in his nervous system.

Oh whiskey, I’d need to step back from you, or I’d lose my job. His inner monologue was far from his decisions. Jungkook knows so damn well he won’t stop the one thing that brings him peace.

However, he swears on a bunch of contracts, it was disreputable to act so. But the way you didn’t yell at his face like usual?

okay, to earth, you’re her secretary. you’ve got bills to pay and decisions to make. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that day, but it wasn’t easy, of course it wouldn’t be considering the fact that he was a mess, a shaking chaotic mess until life came crashing down on him after college.

Jungkook’s gaze wandered to the window of the bus to which his forehead remained pressed, as he watched the storm claiming the sky like a warrior. He couldn’t say the same about his day, though, because you had called him up to the office, made him work two hours overtime just because the files for an upcoming project weren't complete. He had his reasons, which you obviously couldn’t catch on to, warding it off as excuses.

A tale old as time, ain’t it?

Approaching his beloved residence, pun intended, Jungkook noticed the extra pair of shoes placed away near the doorstep. He makes way inside the house, finding an empty living area but inevitable noises coming from his suitemate’s room. Typical, fucking around despite a healing ligament tear, how Jimin of him.

The door creaks open, a girl emerges and leaves in a flash, followed by a man basking in his afterglow.

“Genuinely where do you get the nerves to bring a nurse from your hospital and fuck her at like absolutely no expense?”

“You’d know it better than me, Kook. You’ve done enough in college.”

Jimin was absolutely not wrong.

“You paid the month’s rent?” Jimin questions as he puts away a jar of cookies with two in hand as Jungkook mounts on the couch, removing his jacket.

“Yoongi said he’d do it for me, for the last time. I am working my ass off for that lady, however my parents demand more than what I make. I feel bad, but can’t do anything.”

“Kook, I’m not telling you to do it right away, but if you can, try being more vigilant of how much you’re spending for the home you’re making. Remember you mentioning it need not be finished soon?”

“I know, I’m trying but I just cannot, money is water, it’s just flowing from my hands and not fucking stopping.”

Jungkook runs a hand through his disheveled hair, aimlessly looking out of the balcony.

“I get it, but it’s hard for me too, y’know how I’m right now.” Jimin places the one cookie he didn’t have back in the jar, looking at the younger guy for a beat.

Jungkook just nods, not wanting to escalate the conversation into something heated which he clearly senses is happening. Jimin gets the cue, as he withdraws to his room.

The storm ceased for a moment, a warm darkness took over the sky, as Jungkook leaves the house for a much needed walk to clear his head. He walks around the neighborhood for a bit, eyeing the shops and night stands but successfully shrugs off the urge to get a snack from the convenience store. People were starting to aim ahead for their homes as he smiled at a few kids walking across him, entering the park to the right.

Jungkook remembers the time he used to actually enjoy the swings, the parks. Ones in his town back in the countryside weren’t as engineered as these were, but they were good enough to evoke a smile on his face. Now they’re just solemn reminders of a lost childhood, just serving as a ready source of adrenaline or maybe even a companion on a sad night.

These two days were far from sad, however. He had taken so many decisions, ones that didn’t even correspond to who he was. Why had he cared so much to step ahead and defend you in front of the entire mass of people? He didn’t like the way it made him feel—protective, almost.

Swiftly, a midnight red car stopped by, parking near the open area before the windows rolled down.

That damn car. Again.

“Jeon, get in.”

Jungkook walked over, briefly greeting the chauffeur before he looked at you.

“Would you command like this if it were a stranger, at such an unlawful time? Respect my personal space.”

He looks at you stifling a grin, waving your hands in the air.

“You know those are long gone now. Get in.”

Jungkook had no choice but to abide. He needed the job.

“So, as I was thinking, you know, planning and piecing the puzzles, figured out you’d need some extra help, am I right?”

“I need intelligible propositions, Ruby.”

If you could play, he could too.

“I’ll come clean then,”

You twist in the seat, sunglasses coming off.

Crazy Kang Y/N wears sunglasses in the fucking night.

“Be my date.”

———

・❥・ taglist: [requests open until the second part is posted] @whoa-jo @dreamersparacosm @jenniebyrubies @jeonotic @rpwprpwprpwprw

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jackiespurnell · 2 months ago

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it's just pretend, right? - part one (fake dating au jackie taylor x fem reader)

part two part three

summary: jackie’s boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend, and what kind of teammate would you be if you didn’t help her out?

tw: none

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you weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in jackie taylor’s house, sitting criss crossed on her pink bed sheets, with her hands placed on each of your shoulders, very much about to kiss you. this was not how you thought your friday afternoon was going to go.

it all started approximately 24 hours ago, right after yesterday’s soccer practice. you were getting ready to leave the school premises, excited to get home and lie down on your bed and pretend you actually have a love life that isn’t just fantasizing about your pretty, popular soccer captain.

not like anything would ever happen between you two. but, you know. a girl can dream.

you were just grabbing your water bottle and your bag from the locker room, when you heard a noise. well, not really a noise. more like, noises. more, like screaming.

you didn’t recognize the voices, not at first. it sounds like a guy and girl, which didn’t make much sense, because that definitely wasn’t any of the coaches. you slowly and quietly walk over, hoping not to drag any attention to yourself. you were nosy, of course you wanted to know what exactly was going on. you hide behind a locker, peeking over to see jackie and jeff - her boyfriend - having another yelling match. typical.

jackie and jeff have been dating on and off since freshman year. they had been broken up and back together more times than you could count. you never really understood it, why break up with someone if you know you’re going to end up back together but who were you to judge? i mean, yeah, you’re like, 99% sure that you could treat her much better than that pathetic excuse for a dumb jock with a worse hairline than your balding father but. it’s fine. whatever floats her boat.

you listened in, staying still and quiet. they weren’t really arguing about anything new, or different, just the typical ‘oh, you never listen to me!’ ‘all i do is listen to you!’ ‘you don’t even love me!’ type bullshit. you kind of wish they’d either get their act together or just break up for good. sure, you love good drama, but it’s starting to get boring.

“oh my god, jackie, what did you even expect!? it’s not my fault that after three years you didn’t want to have sex with me! and it’s definitely not my fault that shauna wanted me too!”

oh.

“what?” you whispered to yourself, because holy shit jeff was hooking up with shauna? well, not exactly. he never specified what exactly they were doing. they could’ve been just talking, or kissing, or like, actually hooking up-hooking up. jackie’s boyfriend and jackie’s best friend. jackie’s boyfriend for three years and jackie’s best friend for who knows how long.

and jackie. she didn’t even seem surprised. like she knew. you wonder how she found out. you wonder if she was sad or angry or both. you wonder a lot of things actually, except you don’t have time to wonder because you were too shocked to notice jeff walking over to leave except he saw you so instead of leaving, jeff now is standing in front of you, looking at you like you were casually eavesdropping on their very important, very private conversation and oh, wait, that’s actually what you were doing. shit.

“what’s she doing?” jeff asks jackie and you just awkwardly stand there, and you look at jackie with an apologetic look in your eyes and you knew you’d have a lot of explaining to do.

“um” jackie says. “actually, she’s driving me home. so she was waiting for me”

jeff raises his eyebrows. “jackie, you live like five minutes away? you don’t need a car ride home. what’s going on?” you immediately feel bad, knowing jackie was gonna have to make up some fuck ass lie that probably wouldn’t even make any sense.

“well” jackie says, avoiding eye contact with either of you. “she was actually bringing me back to her place.”

“why the fuck would you be going back to her place?” jeff asked and wow, okay. realistically, you knew it made sense, you and jackie never even hung out outside of practice but way to casually break your already fragile lovergirl heart. even if you knew jackie didn’t like you back, it kind of stung. the way jeff said her, not even paying attention to you, as if you were just some thing, some useless, worthless thing. it made you want to crawl into a hole and die. “i mean are you guys even friends?” he asks, finally looking in your direction.

now there are a million ways you figured this could go.

and this most definitely was not one of them.

because in what is probably your dumbest moment (and you’ve had some pretty dumb moments) you blurt out “actually she’s my girlfriend. and she’s over you. let’s go.”

and with that to take jackie by the arm and pull her away and holy shit you just took jackie by the arm and pulled her away from her actual boyfriend and holy shit you said you guys are dating and holy shit you technically told this girl you barely know anything about that she’s over her boyfriend and holy. fucking. shit.

once you two get out of the locker room and out of the school, you freeze and jackie stares at you expectantly and you try to come up with an explanation that isn’t ‘i was eavesdropping and overheard that your boyfriend was cheating on you with your best friend and i also kind of really like you so i said that and i’m sorry.’

you stare at her awkwardly, trying to come up with some reasonable response. “i, um, well…i, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to eavesdrop but i heard about um…you know, you and jeff and shauna and i, just, you looked uncomfortable and i really shouldn’t have broken up with jeff for you and then said what i said and i’m so sorry.” you expect her to roll her eyes or yell at you or demand you go back inside and tell jeff you lied.

but instead? she starts bursting into laughter.

“oh my god, no! you’re good! no, that was like, the funniest fucking thing i’ve seen in ages. i mean, did you see the look on jeff’s face?” you wanted to say, no, jackie, i didn’t, because i was too busy freaking the fuck out.

“okay but like” jackie says. “maybe this could work.”

“this?” you question and then you realize she means this, as in really, genuinely, faking a relationship with her. “yeah.” jackie nods. “i mean, come on, jeff is probably gonna get with shauna like, for real now. would it be so bad to let them think im getting with you?”

you hesitate. “i don’t know jackie…” “come on! i mean, it’s just pretend, right?” that makes you hesitate even more. fake dating the girl you like was not the smartest move, even you knew that. but still, she’s giving you those puppy dog eyes, and fuck, you love her puppy dog eyes.

fine. you take it back. telling jeff you and jackie were dating when you weren’t wasn’t your dumbest moment.

agreeing with jackie to keep up the act was.

which is how you ended up, 24 hours later, in her house. on her bed. about to kiss.

jackie said you two need to be physical in front of people. she was the people’s princess after all, if she was going to do something, naturally, it had to be big. she needed to have you close to her at all times. an arm around your waist. your head on her shoulder. her lips against yours and of course, practice makes perfect.

so she leans in to kiss you, and you’re about to freeze up, about to say no, about to say this is a bad idea and stupid and they should call it off, but you don’t, you don’t say a thing, and holy shit, she tastes good. and feels good. and just is good. and you as if she could stab you right now and you’d thank her. you then decide that you could die doing this, no, you want to die doing this. it would be painless and you’d be in total bliss. you are in total bliss.

maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad idea.

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#jackie taylor #yellowjackets #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x reader #fake dating au #fanfiction #fanfic #yellowjackets fanfic #ella purnell #no beta we die like jackie #yellowjackets jackie #maria writes ౨ৎ

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ebongawk · 1 month ago

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“She leaned into his hand, nuzzling against his palm until he was cradling the side of her face. Her own exhale brushed against his lips like a prelude to a kiss.

A kiss he was so, so fucking intent to give her.

“Chrissy,” he breathed. “Can I––?”

She just nodded.”

um so anyway @constantreylo gifted me the most gorgeous gift of a scene from my fic, we’re a lie (you and I)

I’m in absolute awe

#hellcheer #eddissy #stranger things #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #chrissy x eddie #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #we’re a lie (you and i)#fake dating AU #hellcheer art #hellcheer fan art

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hongjoongspoetry · 13 days ago

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Pretend You Love Me | Choi Jongho

🥂 Summary: Jongho, heir to Choi Clothes, and you are soulmates marked by each other’s names on your wrists since birth. Instead of a fairy-tale romance, you’re stuck in a fake dating contract to restore Jongho’s tarnished image created by scandals. As you navigate public events and play the part of a cute couple, the lines between fake and real blur together. Despite your undeniable chemistry, you refuse to take him seriously due to his reckless past. As the arrangement nears its end, you must confront the truth about your feelings and whether you can move beyond the contract.

🥂 Pairing(s): Badboy!Jongho x Student!Reader

🥂 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, fake dating AU, fluff, humour

🥂 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), the MC goes by the lastname Jeong, Jongho is a rich kid, the MC not so, Jongho smokes and rides a motorcycle, light alcohol consumption, a lot of teasing, pet names (pretty girl, soulmate, sweetheart & Jjong), probably incorrect portrayal of CEOs and charity events (bare with me, i'm just a girl), some kissing, adult language

🥂 Wordcount: 9.0K

🥂 Author's Note: Click the image for a higher resolution (Tumblr, I hate you). This is my first time ever writing for Jongho and also the fastest I’ve finished a fic — just 4 days, to be exact! It was a lot of fun playing around with the soulmate idea and turning Jongho into a bad-boy-ish character. I hope you all enjoy the second fic of the Cherry Blossom March Event and feel brave enough to share your thoughts with me! I'm really curious to hear what you think and have to say :3

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains explicit scenes, not sexual content but descriptions of matures themes and adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

To go out with people widely. It could mean all sorts of things. A person whose presence spreads widely. Someone who possesses the ability to form broad connections and reach far with their impact, whether it be through influence, relationships or personal qualities. To go out with people widely was the meaning behind the chosen hanja of the name Choi Jongho. The same name that was imprinted on your wrist since birth in black and reminded you daily of your other half. Everyone was born with a name on their wrist that assigned them to a soulmate the moment they entered the world. All you had to go by was the names on your wrists and hope it would be someone sane. Everyone didn’t have to worry about that though as some faced a fate worse than death — their soulmate mark written in white. It symbolized the death of their significant other. One would think the word would change into red, like anger and blood, but no. You liked to think the white represented innocence, cleanliness and new beginnings, almost like an angel.

Your soulmate mark was the same since you were welcomed to the world. Wailing loudly and alerting everyone of your arrival. It hadn’t changed over the course of your twenty-five years long life, for better or for worse. Ever since you could remember, you loved listening to the stories of how people met their soulmates. At family gatherings, you would sit on the knee of your relatives and ask them kindly to retell the moment they met their husbands or wives, but your favorite story was always your parents'.

It was a few days before New Years and both of your parents just recently turned eighteen. The biggest snowfall of the year graced Seoul, like a late Christmas miracle, and the streets were swarmed with people enjoying the freezing weather, young and old alike. Your parents hadn’t known each other by then. They lived in the same neighbourhood, but weren’t aware of just how close they were to their soulmates. Your mother, young and happy, gazed up at the snowflakes being pulled by gravity when something cold and hard struck her, followed by horrified gasps. She crouched down, cradling her head, gently pressing against the side where the snowball had hit. A few seconds later, a young man approached her, apologizing and bowing so deeply that he nearly toppled over. It was your father who had launched the snowball at his friend, misaiming and hitting your mother instead.

Little you hoped to experience a romantic encounter with your soulmate as your parents did. You would stay up way past your bedtime and fantasize of meeting your soulmate, coming up with various scenarios that changed every night, but nothing could prepare you for the surge of emotions when your eyes locked. It was your first day of high school and all of the first year students were gathered in the gymnasium, patiently waiting for the principal to call out their names and their respective classes. You sat in the fifth row on the seventh seat, hands clutching the hem of your blue plaid skirt. It was nerve wracking — starting high school, meeting new people and creating friends. Then there was the possibility of finding the one. The principal cleared his throat, probably getting dried from pronouncing all the names right after each other. You pitied him, but that sentiment flew out the window as he moved onto your class. Out of all the three hundred first years and out of your thirty classmates, one of them was named—

“Choi Jongho!” You burst into his office, letting the door bounce off the wall.

The secretary, frantically chasing after you with desperate pleas not to disturb the designated successor of Choi Clothes, stood in the doorway, her face twisted in a mix of fear and nervousness as she failed at her job. Successor, my ass. That man didn’t know anything beyond smoking a pack of Marlboros a day, dodging his responsibilities, and defying his parents. The man in question was currently sitting behind his desk, one ankle propped on his knee, fully decked out in Valentino — a black suit that was probably bespoke, tailored to his fitting. His hair, a natural shade of dark cocoa, was parted down the middle and showcased his forehead while his hands were decorated with various pieces of jewelry, starting with big fat rings on his fingers, a golden watch and a matching bracelet. Jongho didn’t look the least phased by your appearance nor by the loud entrance. In fact, he looked as monotone as ever, but you saw the brief twitch of his fingers. While he was at the company, he wasn’t allowed to take a smoke until lunch or after work and it sure was getting to him.

“Miss Jeong,” came the annoying voice of his secretary as she began reciting the script drilled into her mind from her first day on the clock. “Mr. Choi’s schedule is fully booked this afternoon and he does not have the time to discuss–”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out as you zeroed in on Jongho and raised a brow, silently challenging him to do something. On cue, the stone cold expression morphed into sunlight seeping through an array of thunderous clouds as he broke out in a charming smile and averted his attention to the woman behind you still going on about rules and policies. Gentle as a breeze and with a faux sweetness to his words, he cut her off.

“It’s alright, Eunij. I called her over to plan our date for the evening. We won’t be long, I promise.”

To really secure the win, Jongho flashed her his significant gummy smile that looked sweeter than sugar itself. Jongho knew he was good looking, you knew he was good looking, everyone knew he was good looking, but what they didn’t know was that he used it to his advantage for years. He would flash them a smile warm enough to melt through ice and cheesing eyes that portrayed the sweetest chocolate in the world, but his mouth wasn’t just good for a handsome distraction. More often than not, Jongho would sweet talk his way out of situations. It worked nine out of ten times. The one time it didn’t work was on you.

As expected, Eunji blushed beneath his attentive gaze and your insides turned on fire. The swirls of his name on your skin burned hotter than a blowtorch and no ice bath would save you from the stinging pain. She threw you one last look before closing the door with a gentle click that could barely be heard in the silent room. Being left alone in the solitude of his office and away from the prying eyes of his father’s employees, Jongho allowed the sugary facade to slip like cotton candy dissolving at a brief contact with water. The round eyes of a teddy didn’t find you, but rather a pair belonging to a hungry bear who’s just had his territory disturbed.

Jongho clasped his fingers together and leaned on the mahogany desk, putting his whole weight on it. “I take it you didn’t come here to give me chocolates for White Day?”

Hadn’t you known Jongho for a decade or so, you’d be confused at the teasing remark coming from a man looking anything but in the mood for playing around. You ignored the butterflies fluttering against your stomach and got straight to the point, hoping it would calm the beautiful creatures pushing you to the brink of puking.

“Why did you agree to attend the charity event on my behalf?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend?”

“Fake-girlfriend,” you corrected him and crossed your arms. “I can’t just change my life to accommodate yours, Jongho, this wasn’t the deal. The contract explicitly said we would be under a fake guise until your name was cleared of rumours and scandals.”

“And how do you think that would happen if we don’t play the part of a happy couple? I can’t go on my own, that tells them I’m more available than ever before, especially when we recently went public with the relationship.”

You yielded under his intense gaze and changed the direction of your attention on the shelf to your left displaying various brands of alcohol ranging from pricey Japanese whiskey to Italian wine. The inside of your cheek was caught between your teeth as you contemplated your answer. He had a point, but you didn’t want to boost his already hugemongous ego. Darting your tongue out to lick at your dry lips, you turned back and found his eyes still staring into the depths of your soul as if searching for the red string that tied you together.

“Just… Just ask me next time before you make a decision on your own, okay? That’s all I want.”

The need to defy everyone and everything danced through his veins, yet the rewarding feeling of succeeding to annoy the other party wasn’t as satisfying when you were on the receiving end this time. He flexed his jaw and the hand that slipped beneath the table to rest on his thigh clenched into a tight fist.

“Fine…”

“Thank you.”

That marked the end of your conversation and you took it as your cue to leave. Jongho’s voice calling out your name brought you to a stop. You didn’t let go of your hold on the doorknob, just turned slightly to show him you were listening.

“We’ll pick you up at six PM on Friday and I’ll have Eunji send you the clothes before then.” As if having the ability to read your mind, he quickly added what felt like the most obvious thing in the world. “And yes, the dress is long sleeved.”

That was probably the sole good thing with the contract, besides the paycheck that sold you in the first place. You weren’t picky with the arrangement and went along with everything stated in the agreement — going on a few dates for publicity, holding hands, kissing, posting each other on social media, attending events and galas. Wearing clothes created by Choi Clothes came with the duty of fake-dating the heir of said agency, however you did make it clear you’d only sign the papers if all the clothes were long sleeved, reaching well over your wrist as not to disclose the soulmate mark. The easy money you once thought you’d earn by fake-dating the successor of Choi Clothes turned into a full-time job with no room for slacking off. Just a few more months, you thought and walked out of Choi Enterprises.

It was still hard to wrap your head around everything. You recalled the day they came knocking on your door. A woman and man dressed in expensive clothes that seemed to cost more than the will your parents set aside for you. They introduced themselves as the managers of Mr. and Mrs. Choi, the owners of Choi Clothes. The ice tea you poured in the prettiest set of china you owned were left untouched as the managers — the names you have long since forgotten — explained their unexpected visit. The Chois selected you as the perfect candidate for their little stunt to ensure their son wouldn’t put the entire family line at shame and burn the whole establishment to the ground before he could even acquire the title as CEO.

Your task was, more or less, to be the candy glued to Jongho’s side and together play the part of a couple head over heels for each other. The pair was patient as you bombarded them with questions, meanwhile they only had three — Do you have a soulmate, have you met your soulmate and how is your criminal record? The quiet voice in the back of your mind pointed out how they probably already had the answers, but didn’t want to seem totally uninterested in you.

At first, you didn’t want to do it. Not only were you going to play pretend for a good few months, but you weren’t even allowed to know who you were going to fake-date as they didn’t want you to decline the offer and run your mouth to a newspaper publisher. The fountain pen with gold swirling engravings on its sides looked scary as it lay abandoned beside the pristine contract. That quickly changed when you saw the never ending zeroes slothed after the word ‘total salary’. Your morning shift at the closest seven-eleven that was about to start in thirty minutes flashed before your eyes and you never signed something as fast as you did that contract.

Perhaps you would’ve said no if you knew the heir was going to be none else than your soulmate. The universe worked in miraculous ways and somehow always made sure to lead you back to him. A magnetic pull that steered you in every direction until you would stand before him again.

The weekend came around and so did the event taking place that Saturday afternoon. It would be marked as your second public outing as a couple feeding into the eager eyes and cameras of South Korea. Mr. Oh, Jongho’s designated driver, pulled up in a squeaky clean limousine that looked more out of place than a kitten raised by a group of squirrel monkeys in the Amazon rainforest. Mr. Oh was a kind older man inching closer and closer to his retirement, always wearing a smile and never speaking without referring to others by their titles. In the few and brief encounters you had with the man, he would always greet you with a ‘Hello, Ms. Jeong’ while opening the rear door for you despite being told to just call you by your name. The backseat was already occupied by Jongho sitting in yet another expensive suit.

The suit jacket was black with white tiger-like stripes erupting from his shoulders and reaching all the way down to his midsection. It had six silver buttons, two for practical use while the rest were there for embellishment. Jongho — never one keen on showing too much — chose to keep the jacket buttoned and you wondered how he could endure it, considering he wore a white turtleneck beneath. The pattern wasn’t what caught the eye of the beholder, rather it was the millions of bedazzles covering the whole piece, making it reflect beneath any form of light, identical to the ones on your dress. His hair was styled in a middle part and unveiled his forehead, a sight you had seen a dozen times before, but were still left breathless. It was already established that Jongho was a handsome man, however the suits created by his parents certainly brought out the best of him — accentuating his confidence, breathtaking features and magnetic presence in a way that left everyone in awe.

Jongho brought you back to reality as he did a rundown of the charity event, what questions to expect and what answers to give, the names of some important people you would definitely speak — or at least greet — with tonight and who would exit the limousine first. You definitely missed the way his eyes ran over your figure, seemingly appreciating you in a beautiful dress from the latest spring collection of his parents. The Chois apparently had a knack for chic attires because your dress wasn’t anything over the top either, but would definitely unscrew some jaws. It was strapless and started from your bosom with a straight neckline allowing your collarbones to be captured by the crazy shuttering cameras. The dress was tight around your torso, giving a perfect picture of your figure beneath, but grew loose from your hips and down. The material didn’t stop until it grazed the ground you walked on, despite wearing a pair of black stiletto heels that were made for your feet and clicked with each step you took, announcing your arrival to everyone in a close vicinity.

Speaking of your lower body — your left leg was exposed as a long slit protruded from your upper thigh. Both of your arms were covered in black detachable sleeves reaching up to your mid bicep and cuffing around the cushion of your hand. You almost threw a fit when you took out the dress from its gigantic box and noticed the lack of sleeves on it. You were one phone call away from canceling the whole agreement hadn’t you seen the remaining parts of the attire. To top it off, the Chois gifted you a set of golden jewelry and a black clutch handbag spacious enough to fit your phone, lipstick and wallet. The matching set of earrings, rings and necklace were nothing too outstanding, but enough to take on the elegance of a model.

“We’ll be there for an hour or two and then Mr. Oh will take you home.”

You ignored the part where it was stated Mr. Oh was taking you home and focused on his subtle slip-in of defying his parents’ rules yet again. Your brows furrowed together and Jongho suppressed the need to even out the skin between them. “No, Mr. and Mrs. Choi explicitly said we had to be there until the very end of the event.”

Jongho leaned into his seat and spread his legs further apart until one of his knees touched your thigh. A chuckle void of amusement filled the passenger compartment and he sighed as if you said the joke of the century.

“I think you should relax a little, sweetheart. My parents should be grateful I’m attending in the first place.”

You pursed your lips to keep yourself from giving your input where it clearly wasn’t wished for. Jongho looked out of the window while you admired his side profile. Jongho was the epitome of a whiplash — you never knew when he’d shake you off like a poisonous insect or help you fly as if you were an injured ladybug. His nonchalance left a bitter tang on your tongue, the similar taste after downing a beer you knew you’d puke back up in a few hours, and the imaginary Jongho was crushed in the world you created in your brain.

The karma of thinking such thoughts was instantaneous as the skin beneath your soulmate mark flared to life. You wondered if Jongho experienced repercussions whenever he was treating you badly. The rest of the drive was done in silence safe for the newest global hits playing through the speakers. Four songs later and the limousine temporarily came to a stop before the entrance of a big building looking like something straight out of a movie. A red carpet was rolled out from the doors to the street where everyone’s ride was instructed to stop and let the guests out. Mr. Oh exited first and walked around the oblong vehicle as Jongho simultaneously fixed his suit although it was free of any imperfections.

“It’s showtime, baby.”

The door opened and Jongho stepped out, an array of flashes went off accompanied by the calls of his name — the photographers begging for a crumb of his attention. Jongho straightened his jacket, offered everyone a smile and quick wave before holding out his hand to face the dark heavens. That was your cue. No one really knew who you were outside of being Jongho’s girlfriend and even after you became public, they could find little to no information about you online. Thus, you didn’t expect the clicking of cameras and flashes to multiply in your presence. You grabbed Jongho’s hand per your agreement and stepped out with your exposed leg first then, when you fully exited the limousine — an upgrade from Jongho’s death trap of a motorcycle — you smoothly looped your arm through his and firecrackers erupted on your skin at the contact. You stood tall and got a couple of inches on him thanks to the heels, but he didn’t seem bothered by it and neither was the company otherwise you doubt they would’ve sent it in the first place.

Standing in the centre of attention wasn’t as nauseating as you originally thought it would be and whether you want to admit it or not, it was partially because of Jongho being there to anchor you. It wasn’t his forthe to whisper sweet words of encouragement, but he portrayed his support in other ways such as leading you through the overwhelming photographers, sneaking his arm around your waist and respectfully resting his palm above the curve of your hip. It helped that you rehearsed the events of the night from start to finish with Jongho and wouldn’t be in for a surprise. Taking advice from your favorite childhood movie, you put on the brightest smile of your career and moved along. The audience didn’t need to know you were finding comfort in the famous line from Madagascar.

The inside of the venue was prettier than any other interior you had ever laid eyes on. To be frank, it wasn’t anything exceptional, but the simplicity made it appear so. The main colors of the theme were creme white and beige, and were integrated into everything. The seats were plush chairs made out of velvet material in an ashy shade of beige while the tables were round with white marble tops. There was a path leading straight down the area and separating the room into two occupied with seats on both sides. On the other end of the pathway was a slightly elevated scene where the hosts of the event and guests would give their speeches, and use the smartboard to their liking. The ceiling was the most alluring sight though. Oblong light bulbs hung from the ceiling as sheer garment circled the light in waves. It gave a sense of elegance as well as coziness.

A waiter dressed in a simple black suit offered you champagne on a platter and while you didn’t wish to become drunk, you still needed some alcohol to get through the night, especially when you were going to meet some of Choi Clothes’ most trusted business partners. You both took a glass each and mingled around with Jongho’s arm still glued to you as if it belonged right above the swell of your hip. Not many words, if any at all, were exchanged as you mainly drank in the design of the place while simultaneously ignoring the stares and whispers of the remaining guests, all eyes glued to your forms fitting perfectly with one another like two lost pieces of a puzzle. They were all curious about the pretty lady beneath Jongho’s arm and how the reckless Choi managed to find a girl that would look past his bad habits and disrespectful personality. If only they knew.

Jongho’s situation wasn’t entirely a secret. Everyone knew he was somewhat of a problematic guy with another style of living that wasn’t fit to his parents’ standard. They didn’t feel all too proud waking up to multiple articles of Dispatch flaunting pictures taken of Jongho leaving clubs early in the morning surrounded by boys and girls of all kinds, certainly not the kind to be invited to exclusive fashion events and charities. Jongho hadn’t changed much over the years, if you recalled correctly. He would rarely be present during lectures. He was physically there, but his mind had transcended off to dreamland long before the lesson started. The one interest he had was soccer and even that ended shortly into his second year as he got with the wrong crowd. If someone needed him, he could be found smoking on the roof or behind the back of the school with a handful of students who also had successful parents.

It was sheer luck Jongho was an only child and that his parents were in need of a successor, otherwise he would’ve been kicked to the curb a long time ago. Apparently, the Chois grew sick of his careless behaviour and gave him an ultimatum — clean up his mess or not be signed as an heir to the company. Jongho defied them like always, until his credit card ran empty and he realized his parents wouldn’t relent. He came crawling back with his tail between his legs and agreed to their proposition. You never understood him or why he acted the way he did. He had everything, practically born with a silver spoon in his mouth and it amazed you that the universe decided to tie your souls to each other. Jongho certainly wasn’t the soulmate you expected and your meeting wasn’t anywhere near the romantic encounter your parents experienced.

“Let’s take a seat before the aunties swammer us,” he whispered in your ear and led you to a table with a gentle nudge to the small of your back.

The touch sent plausible tingles of electricity up your spine and the intensity never wavered even when he withdrew his hand to pull out your chair for you — a great play to showcase his inner gentleman. He took his righteous place on your right side, but immediately regretted it. His ploy of escaping the aunties proved to be futile as Mrs. Kang, a good business partner of Jongho’s paternal grandparents, butted into your table and plopped down on the vacant seat beside you despite her name not being on the list and began shooting invasive questions. The older lady wanted to know everything about you — your age, name, workplace, how you knew Jongho, who your soulmate was, if you and Jongho were soulmates. She pulled on the imaginary rubber band attached to Jongho’s wrist until it snapped and rebounded against his skin.

“Mrs. Kang, don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

The chatter around the table quieted down at Jongho’s sharp reply and you acted quickly to ease the tension. You placed your hand over his and gave it a firm squeeze. The motion averted his attention from Mrs. Kang to your stern gaze. A silent conversation ensued between you.

“Stop.”

“She’s the one who started it.”

“I don’t care. It won’t look good for you or your parents.”

Jongho eventually gave in and leaned back in his chair. The sudden cold shoulder on his part was him telling you he wasn’t pleased with the outcome. Not like you cared. Yes, your part of the deal was to be his fake-girlfriend, but you couldn’t just let him do as he wished to the people around him as it would reflect a bad light on you too.

“Welcome everyone to the Fashion For Aid charity event aimed at assisting children in group homes! I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone for attending on this fine evening…”

The host was a man in his late sixties with a head full of hair and face clean of any. You weren’t paying much attention to what he was saying as you weren’t well versed into the fashion world, but you did your best to at least look immersed in his speech. The man to your right wasn’t looking any more interested than you did and actually managed to sit through the first five minutes of the opening ceremony, until he got bored. After that, he played a game of what-could-Jongho-do-to-annoy-his-soulmate-in-the-fastest-way-possible? He did everything to get on your nerves — drumming his fingers against the edge of the table, staring at you then looking away when you met his gaze, loudly cracking his neck and fingers, and frequently checked his phone. The moment the host finished his lengthy speech and encouraged everyone to visit the table full of sweets and drinks placed on both sides of the room, Jongho jumped from his seat, hand already reaching into the inner pocket of his suit.

“If you’ll excuse me, a man’s gotta use the bathroom.”

“Jongho!” You hissed after him, but he either didn’t hear you or blatantly ignored you. As you moved to follow him, an inkling feeling telling you the bathroom was the last place he was headed for, a wrinkly hand landed on your thigh and successfully stopped you from going after him.

“Oh, honey, it is not worth stressing over him. Youngsters like that boy don’t change and he won’t do it even with a beautiful lady by his side.”

A bucket of water spilled over you and froze all forty-three muscles in your face. You somehow managed to force the corners of your mouth up and fake a smile, but the sincerity was not evident in your eyes.

“I, uhm, don’t want him to change. Really.” You added in the end as Mrs. Kang raised a brow in non-belief. “I like Jongho as he is and I don’t think he needs to change to fit in other people's crowded boxes.”

“If you say so, dear, but… if you’re interested, I have a nephew your age who would suit you much better than Mr. Choi.” She turned in her seat and scanned the crowd for said nephew. A fire lit beneath your chair as she began waving him over.

“Oh, Mrs. Kang, that's not necessary.” The reassuring words fell on deaf ears — literally — and although you weren’t too keen on lying, you already had one rich kid to look after. “I think I heard Jongho calling for me, I’ll be right back!”

Jongho was in fact not calling you over. Jongho was gone, disappeared into thin air and abandoned you in a room full of strangers. It would be a miracle if he hadn’t asked Mr. Oh to drive him someplace, leaving you to figure out your own ride home.

“Fucking hell, Jongho,” you muttered and weaved through the crowd of successful people and nepotism babies.

The venue was so packed with people you couldn’t even try searching for the bathrooms and opted to go back out again. The outside wasn’t void of people either, as some foreign faces stood socializing with each other, drinks in one hand and fat cigars squeezed between the pointer- and middle finger of their other hand. Not searching for more aunties or uncles to flag you down, you walked away from the people to a place that seemed vacant. Who would’ve known the universe was pulling on your red string and leading you in the direction of your soulmate. Turning the corner of the building, you stumbled over the view of Jongho crouched down behind a couple of taller bushes. Much like the other gentlemen, he too had a slim cigarette placed between his lips, dragging the poisonous smoke right into his lungs. You understood why out of all the places, he chose to smoke on the other side of the building. It was less prone to attract the paparazzi searching for something juicy to spread on social media.

Jongho didn’t kill the glowing stick as you appeared in his peripheral vision nor did he show a sign of acknowledging your sudden appearance. You didn’t go out of your way to chastise him for smoking in a public setting either, instead you took a stance beside him while he inhaled the last of the cancer-stick and looked straight ahead. It was already stuffy just standing there in silence, you didn’t need to stare at him with questions swimming in your eyes.

The warm sun of March was replaced by the round and bright moon, allowing a certain frost to the early spring breeze. You crossed your arms over your chest and caressed the exposed skin of your bicep with your thumb in a poor attempt at subduing the coldness. The dress was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t made for such weather and you were questioning their professionalism as they didn’t give you a coat or any other outerwear. On the other hand, Jongho had been admiring you for the last couple of seconds since you took the place beside him and the sharp goosebumps littered on your body didn’t go unnoticed by him. He balanced the cigarette between his lips and slipped the suit jacket off himself. The rustle of clothes caught your attention and before you could realize what was happening, a newfound warmth wrapped around you followed by a mild fragrance of charcoal, pine needles and espresso.

“You don’t have to–”

“I’m not letting my date freeze her ass off.”

You tried ignoring the harsh squeeze of your heart and a pang of heat blossoming from the center of your chest, sprouting out to the rest of your body. This was just Jongho being kind, nothing more, nothing less. Yet your heart and soulmate mark thought otherwise. The stinging smell of his cigarette was a perfect distraction and your nose scrunched at the awful burn. Jongho needed all of three seconds to take one last drag of the stick, blow it away from your face and throw it to the ground, his expensive boot coming down to turn it to speckles of ash.

“I’m going back inside,” you announced after another minute of silence. “It won’t look good if both of us are missing.”

“Who cares what they think? They’ll always have something to say about me in the end so it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to prove them right, you know?”

You didn’t get another answer after that and decided to take your leave. A warm hand circled around your wrist, their thumb grazing the covered soulmate mark and stopping you in your steps. You turned around, Jongho’s hand still on you but his eyes avoiding yours at all cost.

“...Wanna get out of here?” He eventually asked.

Another beat passed and you pressed your lips together. “We really shouldn’t, Jongho, besides it’s against the contract.”

A genuine laugh escaped him and he moved toward the opposite side of the event, rounding the corner you didn't appear from. “Screw the contract.”

You quickly followed his lead, intrigued and worried at where he was headed. Perhaps you got worked up for nothing as a bunch of expensive cars as well as limousines were parked in neat rows, the moonlight reflecting off their polished hoods and trunks.

“Where are you going?” You hissed and bunched one end of your dress to not accidentally step on it and twist your ankle.

“Why don’t you find out?”

How you managed to find yourself in this situation was beyond you. Not once was it stated in the contract that you would need to use Jongho’s death trap as a form of transportation, yet there you were sitting on the back of his motorcycle as he zoomed through the street. It was a miracle he successfully managed to sneak it into the parking lot without having any of the guards or chaperons turning him down. Then again, it was Choi Jongho they were dealing with. What Jongho wanted, Jongho got.

Your arms were tightly wrapped around his midsection and your eyes squeezed shut, almost believing the danger of the situation would disappear if you couldn’t see the blur of scenery whiz past you. Jongho smirked at the feel of you squeezing him to death and he purposefully revved the bike to go faster just to hear your squeaks of fear slip beneath your helmet. He wasn’t even going half the speed he was used to, but he felt just a twinge of remorse for you. The motorcycle slowed down and eventually stopped before a red light.

“You can open your eyes now,” he spoke into the built-in bluetooth in his helmet and placed his hand on your intertwined ones, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. The whipping wind was quickly drying your hands and he was cursing himself for the pair of gloves he forgot on the edge of his bed.

You did as told, albeit opening one eye at a time just to make sure he wasn’t sugarcoating the situation. For once, you were happy about being wrong.

“How much more?” You asked, your throat dry and beginning for a sip of water.

“We’re almost there.” The traffic light switched to yellow. “Hold on tight now.”

It took an eternity — twenty minutes — until Jongho put the motorcycle in neutral and turned off the throttle as well as the ignition switch, and allowed the weight of the vehicle to lean on the kickstand. He took off his helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, messing up the gelled strands in the process and placed the helmet on the surface of the fuel tank. You slightly released your grip on him, but were still reluctant to move as you were afraid of somehow falling off the motorcycle or tipping the whole thing over and thus let your fingers hover over his sides. Jongho’s feet were planted on the ground for extra security and comfort, and threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see you sit stiff as a board. He turned away and brought his shoulders up to his ears as he quietly chuckled to himself. The helmet was still on your head and your cheeks mushed by the pillowy cushion inside, making you look like a chipmunk with its cheeks full of nuts.

“I thought you hated her?” He asked through his giggles.

“Huh?”

“The motorcycle. I thought you hated the motorcycle, besides can you let go off me now? Unless you like touching me–”

You didn’t need to hear more to fling your hands in the air. The abrupt motion almost caused you to fall back, hadn't you grabbed Jongho’s shoulders again. It was sheer luck that he was sturdy enough not to lean back from your harsh grip. He laughed again, a chuckle that brought his gummy smile into the moonlight. It was a sound you came to like and wouldn't mind hearing for the rest of your life. The admission caused your ears to burn with embarrassment and you were grateful that the soulmate connection was limited to the scribbled name on your wrist, not giving your other half the ability to feel your emotions or hear your thoughts.

“Okay, go like this. Place this foot,” he patted the side of your left thigh, “on the ground and swing your other leg over the bike, then carefully step off. Hold onto me until you’re completely off so you don’t fall.”

His instructions were easy to follow and you managed to get off without hurting yourself, him, or damaging his prized possession. The sound of water softly washing up against the sand reached your ears and it was only when you dismounted the motorcycle that you took in your surroundings. The view was nothing short of exceptional. You stood on the sidewalk with stairs leading straight down to the riverside area, giving you a perfect view of the river. It was slightly blurry and you couldn't quite figure out why. As your hand subconsciously reached up to rub your eyes, you accidentally brushed against the visor. Unsure how to remove the helmet without discomfort, you decided to simply slide the visor up instead.

The Mapo Bridge was even prettier at night, with its blue and purple lights twinkling beneath the dark sky. At least a hundred cars drove across the bridge in the few minutes since you arrived and the sound of their tires and whirring motors added a sense of tranquility to the setting. The prettiest of it all were the cherry blossoms slipping off the branches of the Prunus serrulata trees. The ground was covered in pink and white petals, and some even landed in your hair. It was magical.

It dawned on you just where Jongho had brought you — Yeouido Hangang Park. While you were busy taking in every little detail of the scenery, Jongho retrieved his keys from the ignition and stopped beside you. He buried them in the pockets of his pants to prevent you from noticing he was fidgeting with the keys, thus keeping his dignity intact. He couldn’t have you going around thinking you were the reason behind the butterflies fluttering in his stomach and whether that was true or not would stay with Jongho, and Jongho only.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed out.

Jongho hummed in agreement, yet his eyes didn’t budge from your form. It didn’t matter that you wore stiletto heels with a designer dress, a suit jacket multiple sizes too big for you and a sports helmet on your head — you looked as beautiful as the first day he met you, all those years ago in high school. He cleared his throat and stepped in front of you, the pads of his fingers gently grazing the skin beneath your chin as he unclasped the straps of your helmet. The little click snapped your attention to his eyes full of focus that shifted from your chin up to your lips, and lastly your eyes. As if stuck in a trance unable to look away, you drowned in the warmest hue of brown molded out of the richest cacao beans in the world. Jongho slowly took hold of your helmet and began pushing it upwards, but with a gentleness you hadn’t witnessed before. He was so careful and the imagination of having your head ripped off your body didn’t come to life.

“Thank you,” you whispered as he successfully removed the gear.

“No worries… I’m sure my mom would have my head if I let a lady walk around in designer clothes with a cheap helmet on.”

Although his intentions weren’t to tickle your belly, the sound of your laughter spread a fervor through his body and shone light on the darkest parts in him. It was contagious and he found his own lips curling up, eyes cheesing and that angelic voice of his handing out gleeful melodies to the few people taking a late-night stroll in the park.

“Come on, let’s take a walk.” He held out his hand for you to take and you did without a second thought. “I meant your heels, but lucky for you I have two hands.”

You began withdrawing your hand, but Jongho had already laced your fingers together and refused to let go.

“You're unbelievable,” you muttered, pretending the heat of embarrassment wasn't attacking your cheeks.

“I can live with that.”

Jongho pulled you along toward the flight of stairs and patiently walked with you. It didn’t matter that it took five minutes to reach the bottom because he was with you every step of the way and if you said anything otherwise, Jongho would’ve argued the night was still young and that the five minutes were worth it as he got to spend them with you. He was lucky his parents chose a candidate who wasn’t insecure of themselves to the point they apologized for every minor inconvenience, because Jongho wasn’t sure how the sweet words would fit his unruly persona. The first three steps on the sand made you change your mind and you quickly removed the heels, flexing your stiff feet and releasing a breath of relief. The expensive pair of footwear were handed to Jongho who hooked his pointer- and middle finger in the heel counter while his other set of fingers were still braided with yours.

“It’s nice here,” you admitted and looked out on the river. The other side was covered with a bunch of buildings, much like the ones behind you, and looked like a scene straight out of a movie. Where the lights of the apartments, universities and hospitals took on the looks of the stars above.

“Mmmmm, it’s quiet and empty.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

Jongho pondered for a moment. “Sometimes… I can think easier when there aren’t a bunch of people breathing down my neck, plus the ride here helps me clear my head.”

“It’s overwhelming, right? I mean being in the spotlight constantly and having your every move watched from an early age, no?”

He shrugged. “It was at first, but… I stopped caring after a while and people stopped expecting things from me.”

You hummed in understanding and let the gentle waves wash over the conversation. The curiosity you once carried with you concerning Jongho’s defying personality simmered down to nothing and you realized it wasn’t a topic you should venture in on just yet. Instead, you changed it to something less serious.

“You know, I didn’t think we’d see each other after high school, but look at us now. Holding hands beneath the stars… Are you perhaps starting to like me, Jjong?”

One end of Jongho's lips curled into a shit-eating grin and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek, and you couldn't tell if it was from the nickname or from bringing up old high school memories. Jongho’s walking slowed down until both feet were planted on the sand, not bugging despite you being half a step ahead of him. You looked over your shoulder to see what was the reason for stopping.

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered by the fact that you think I’m just now starting to like you.”

He shortened the distance between you, leaving barely any room for air to squeeze past your bodies. His thumb traced a never-ending circle across the back of your hand and your heels had long since dropped onto the sand, giving him the freedom to cradle the side of your face. Your breath hitched in your throat and your heart seemed to sprout a pair of angel wings, soaring in your chest at the contact of his skin on yours.

"To answer your question, soulmate, I’ve liked you since the day I saw you in that gymnasium." Jongho's eyes traveled over your face, giving each feature and detail equal attention, as if he wanted to memorize your beauty as though it were a cheat sheet for an exam. "You were dressed in that cute school uniform, your hair braided and kept out of your face, and you looked absolutely sick to your stomach. That’s when I knew our souls were made for each other. I didn’t even need to know your name or look at your wrist. I just knew."

The world went silent around you. The sloshing of water, the chorus of cute laughter and the moving vehicles were muffled sounds that didn’t reach your ears. A furious heat crawled up your back and neck, nipping at your cheeks until you were on the brink of burning up like a firework, but the rest of your body — your fingers, toes, nose and ears — were freezing cold. A massive star nearing the end of its life cycle suddenly exploded and your hearing came back. The air that had caught in your throat was let out as Jongho’s words settled in your mind.

“Jongho,” you lamely whispered in return.

The secret you had carried for years turned out not to be much of a secret after all, and the hundreds, thousands, of people you thought you were fooling day in and day out weren’t deserving of that title. Because the biggest fool out of them all was you.

“You knew all along?”

Jongho shrugged and tore his eyes from your dumbfounded expression down to your wrist. “It wasn’t hard to figure out.” His thumb slid up beneath your detachable sleeves, exposing the name you kept hidden for years. “I mean, it isn’t everyday I hear about a pretty girl with my name tattooed on her wrist and hers on mine.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first. The fact that he called you a pretty girl, his thumb caressing your soulmate mark or him knowing you were destined together since high school. Your tongue darted out to lick at your bottom lip and his eyes were quick to follow the brief movement. He swallowed thickly and forced them up again.

“I take it you knew too?”

You nodded in return. “When they called out your name in the assembly and I caught the side of your face.”

“I’m happy you didn’t approach me then,” he suddenly admitted and chuckled as your brows pinched together. “Fate brought us together in the end.”

“But we aren’t together-together.”

“Last time I checked, you pretty much signed a contract to date me.”

“Fake-date you.”

The tongue poking the inside of his cheek looked ten times more attractive beneath the moonlight, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his hair and kiss that darned smirk off his face. Perhaps the soulmate bond went further than a name scribbled on the outer layer of your skin, because your wish wasn’t too far from Jongho’s. He, too, wanted to get a taste of your lips. To have some remnants of your lipstick smudge against his and guess the flavor of it — maybe strawberry or cherry, though he always took you for a coconut girl.

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Okay, fake-date then… Better?”

Not in the least.

“Much better.”

“It’s not for me,” he quickly added.

“Why?”

Jongho inhaled a sharp intake of air and waited, playing the scene out in his mind and weighing out his options before puking his thoughts and feelings out in an almost vacant park. “Because… I want to do stuff with you. To hold your hand, take you out on dates, kiss you, hug you and just be with you like a real couple. I want to know that the look you have when you’re with me is real, that it isn’t just a job for you. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.”

“I have always wanted you,” you confessed shakily. “Before I even knew you, Jongho. There was nothing more I wanted than to find my soulmate and that hasn’t changed. Even when I did find you and lost you at the same time, that desire still lived within me. It still does… And when I found out you were the rich kid who needed a fake-girlfriend, it felt like the world was laughing in my face, but I realized it was giving me a second chance. Us a second chance.”

Now it was Jongho’s turn to look dumbfounded. You took his silence as a sign to continue.

“And all you had to do, Jjong, was ask. Even now. Just ask for what you want.”

The man stared at you as if heaven were beneath your fingertips, as if a single touch of your finger would bring him eternal peace and serenity. You were truly the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on and no one else could compete with your beauty — even if they were sculpted by Aphrodite herself. Jongho was never a listener — always defying and doing as he pleased. Yet this one time, the one time, he would be darned if he didn’t.

“May I kiss you?”

“Please.”

The stars aligned as his lips gently pressed against yours. Jongho was right, you tasted like coconut and it had him craving for more, yet the fear of pushing you away was greater than his need. The fingers of your free hand tangled into the side of his shirt to steady your swirling mind, but did little for your erratically beating heart. Jongho wasn’t rough nor eager to ravage your mouth with his tongue, rather on the contrary. It was a soft and lingering kiss that tested the waters. You parted to inhale air before diving in for another kiss, this one a little more urgent and daring than the first, but equally sweet. Jongho’s tongue swiped at your bottom lip and you tilted your head sideways while allowing him access. Even now with his tongue exploring your mouth, the kiss didn’t change from intimate to hungry. A fire was set in your lungs that ached for oxygen and you were left with no choice but to break apart. Jongho rested his forehead against yours, noses brushing and heavy gasps for air fanning your faces.

“You drive me crazy,” he said between breaths.

“I’m not… doing anything.” You had to fight the smile threatening to dance across your lips. This was a whole new side to Jongho, a side you had never seen before but wouldn’t trade for the world.

“Precisely and you still make me lose my mind.”

The stubborn smile eventually broke through and Jongho huffed out a chuckle at the gleeful expression. I’m-not-doing-anything his ass. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek once and twice, but froze in motion as you asked him a question.

“Did you really mean everything you said earlier? About the contract, I mean.”

“Yes,” he answered in a heartbeat. “If I could, I would terminate the contract, but keep this. Keep us.”

A beat passed and then another. Your thoughts were flying wild, narrowly avoiding each other and the explosion that would ensue.

“Let’s do it then,” you eventually said. That was the second bravest thing you had done in your life. The first would be signing the contract while running on four hours of sleep. “Let’s do it for real.”

Jongho gauged your expression, searching for any sign of uncertainty or regret. When he couldn’t find even a hint of either, he pressed his lips against yours. Affection, joy and excitement poured into the kiss, and Jongho hoped you would feel at least half of it.

Unbeknownst to the new couple, two people stood by Jongho’s motorcycle. The man wore a fancy black suit, while the woman’s dress elegantly hugged her curves as she stood effortlessly in her heels. A set of black sunglasses obscured their eyes, despite the fact that the sun had long since exchanged places with the moon. The pair seemed out of place in Yeouido Hangang Park surrounded by people dressed in casual clothing. Passersby noticed it too, shooting them strange looks, but neither of them cared. Their attention was fixed on the couple brought together by destiny.

“I knew she was the one for him,” the man proudly admitted and puffed out his chest.

The woman beside him scoffed. “Please, I was the one who found her Linkedin and recognized her name from Mr. Choi’s wrist.”

The pair gave you one last look before turning around and clambering back into the limousine, which drove them straight to the charity event. They had left the party in a hurry the moment they noticed the absence of the successor of Choi Clothes and his fake girlfriend — or should they say, his real girlfriend?

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blaithnne · 4 months ago

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☆ @sketchbookweek — take 2 ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ day 4 — fake dating ! ☆

Given what we now know about the characters, I actually much prefer the dynamic presented in @phopollo’s take on a sketchbook fake dating AU (which you should ABSOLUTELY check out btw!!). But still, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to redraw this funny little AU from a few years back. It’s fun to see the improvment!

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poetlus · 5 months ago

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“FAKE DATING” — denki kaminari x gn!reader

when you lie to your mom about having a boyfriend, she wants to meet him. the problem is…well… you lied. after going through the class and deciding which guy you were most comfortable meeting your mother, you chose denki kaminari.

A/N: im so sorry this is so short! i have been trying to keep up with school, work, and writing. ily guys!

#works ・゜゜・．#denki kaminari #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x y/n #denki kaminari x you #denki x reader #denki x y/n #denki x you #chargebolt #fake dating au

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gaysindistress · 1 year ago

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No one asked for this butttt here's a little fake dating drabble I wrote for @bucks-and-noble's Valentrope fest.

Part two

bucky's masterlist | main masterlist

“I hate you.”

“It’ll pass.”

“No I actually hate you.”

Bucky sighs as he slumps into the hard chair he keeps saying he’s going to get rid of. A glass of whiskey dangles from his hand that is draped over the chair’s arm.

“You don’t hate me, doll. I don’t think you even have it in you to hate me or anyone for that matter.”

From my spot curled up in the chair opposite of him, I glower at him. I’m trying to get him to agree to the half baked plan I came up with trying to sleep last night but he’s not budging. All I need him to do is pretend to be my boyfriend for a wedding this weekend. I already have the backstory for us figured out and I even came up with a few ways for us to break up. All he needs to do is sit pretty, remember our story, and pretend to be in love with me.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me, Barnes. I could not hate you more than I do right now.” I try to sound serious but it’s like a toddler trying to say hospital; it doesn’t sound right no matter how many times I try.

He takes a sip of his drink, eyeing me as the nasty liquid slips past his lips and down his throat. I’ve never understood how he can drink something that tastes so awful and burns going down.

“What about Sam? I can pay him to do it.”

Groaning, I throw my head back and squeeze my eyes shut.

“No Bucky. It has to be you. Sam’s great but I-kind-of-already-told-everyone-about-you.” The last part is incredibly rushed and I really hope that he didn’t hear it.

My hopes are crushed though. He coughs and chocks on his whiskey.

“I’m sorry. You did what now?” He rasps out in a scratchy voice.

“Dont make me say it again.”

I hear him get up and softly approach me. His shoes make almost no sound as he walks across the Persian rug he let me pick out last year. He told me his office needed updating and handed me his black card. Obviously I had to buy everything that I wanted so that when he wanted to update again, I could take it all home.

Bucky crouches in front of me and puts his hands on my knees. My head lolls forward and I stare down at him with puppy dog eyes. It’s not going to work but it’s worth a shot.

“No, no doll put those away.” He whispers to me with a light squeeze to my knees, “now tell me what you did again.”

“I already told everyone about you.”

“And who is everyone?”

“Buckyyyy,” I whine and try to pull my legs away but he holds them in place. “Please don’t be mean right now.”

He chuckles at my manipulation. Shaking his head, he stands up and leans over me, placing a hand on either side of my chair. His cologne is faint after his long day but I can still smell hints of its vanilla and tobacco notes.

“If you want me to play your boyfriend then you’ll have to toughen up. I can’t have my girl,” he murmurs as he brushes those plump lips against my cheekbone, “crying the second I tell her no.”

My heart stutters when he starts to trail light kisses from my cheek to the corner of my lips. Like a true tease, he skips over to the other corner and then kisses the tip of my nose.

“Can you do that for me?”

“Are you going to come with me?” I shoot back.

Bucky smirks against my lips. “Of course I am, doll.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #mob au #mob!bucky barnes imagine #mob!au #marvel fanfiction #mob!bucky #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky au #fake dating au

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chaotixcx · 2 months ago

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So… I guess it’s like 4 1/2 stars.

I have to credit @roddity for having a tag about Swindle giving Bee a customer satisfaction survey. After that, it became stuck in my head. Also thank you @evtraininguniversity for helping me write the dialogue!

#rhysiesketches #transformers #maccadam #transformers earthspark #tfe swindle #tfe bumblebee #tfe #tf earthspark #swinbee #swindlebee #swindle #bumblebee #English is my first language trust #I’m just incredibly bad at it always #fake dating au

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celestie0 · 6 months ago

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jujutsu kaisen fics for gaza

note: this event is now closed as donation goals have been reached!! thanks so much :”0

hi friends! i’ve been wanting to join @ficsforgaza for a while now but haven’t really had any wips or anything that could contribute, but i figured i could just provide my series chapters as “wips” to be sponsored to help drive donations :0

this is a lil different than other fics for gaza setups you may have seen, where instead of doing a $1 = [amt of words towards fic], i’ve decided of setting up a donation goal to reach for the chapter(s), and once it’s reached, i will post the work.

note: all sponsored works are gojo x reader 18+

the donation goals are as follows:

kickoff ch12… donation goal: $40

in holy matriphony ch4… donation goal: $40

around the clock pt2… donation goal: $20

how to donate:

1. choose a vetted fundraiser to donate to

2. choose a chapter you would like to sponsor

3. once you have made your donation, send me a screenshot proof of that donation via my ask inbox (for example: hi! here is my $5 donation towards kickoff ch12)

4. that’s it!! thanks for donating. i will keep track of total amount donated for each wip & will inform everyone on when the goals are reached (check reblogs for updates) as well as when i’ll be releasing the chapters

note: please ensure that any personal info is censored in your screenshot (you will need to send the ask to me off of anon, but i will not answer these asks publicly. the only place i will be sharing them to is to @ficsforgaza so they can keep track of donations & ensure donation screenshots are not being used multiple times)

kickoff ch12 & ihm ch4 are already completed so i can post these soon after goals are reached. as for “around the clock” pt2 i still have to work on it but i’m already halfway done with it!

also i will be matching 25% of the donation goals for each of the works prior to posting them!!

any contribution can help a family in gaza receive access to necessary supplies, care, food, water, as well as help mobilize them to safer areas. if you have some money to spare & would like to support, please consider donating. if you don’t have means to financially help, that’s totally okay! please consider boosting this post or boosting the vetted fundraisers under ficsforgaza’s network!

much love! let me know if you have questions

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thefemmefatalexo · 12 days ago

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Gojo SMAU - The Art of Falling Fake

Chapter 5 - Tricks, Treats and Terrible Ideas

Summary: The campus buzzes with life, but you feel like a shadow slipping through the cracks—unnoticed, unimportant. At home, it’s no better. Your parents dote on your step-sister, the star tennis player, while you’re the afterthought they barely acknowledge. She’s here too, her perfect reputation casting an even bigger shadow over your existence. College was supposed to be your escape, but living at home and walking the same halls as her makes it impossible. Then he shows up—Satoru Gojo, the rich, arrogant engineering major everyone seems to worship. His smug grin and effortless charm are the kind of things you can’t stand, but when a ridiculous twist of fate forces your lives together, you find yourself fake dating the most insufferable man you’ve ever met. It’s just a deal, temporary and harmless—or so you try to convince yourself.

an: hehe… SMOOCHES 💋💋💋

{chapter 4} ; {next}

taglist: @hanakotateyama @sleepykittyenergy @inthedarkshadows000 @codeseven @byakuya61085 @minzxec @ivydoesit23 @naughteehee @mysteriaqueen @not-aya @bochichi @emlient

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

The eyeliner refused to cooperate.

You leaned in closer to the mirror, biting your lip as you dragged the pen across your lid, only for it to smudge—again. Frustration curled in your chest as you reached for a makeup wipe, erasing the mess for what felt like the hundredth time.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath, resisting the urge to chuck the whole eyeliner across the room.

You had spent the last hour trying to recreate a Halloween makeup tutorial, and for some reason, it just wasn’t working. Maybe it was your shaky hands, maybe it was the universe conspiring against you—but at this point, you were ready to give up.

And after the day you’d had? This was the last thing you needed to go wrong.

It had started with spilled coffee on your clothes before class, followed by nearly failing a pop quiz. Then, after spending hours at the library, you walked outside to find it pouring rain—without an umbrella. The final insult? Coming home to Brielle gloating about her latest tennis win while your parents showered her with praise.

Now, as you sat in front of your mirror, determined to at least look good for this stupid party, your patience was razor-thin.

You exhaled deeply, steadied your hand, and tried again. This time, miraculously, it turned out perfect. Maybe even great.

Just as you exhaled in relief, your door swung open without warning.

“Wow,” came Brielle’s smug voice. “Didn’t know cops were supposed to look desperate.”

You clenched your jaw and turned in your seat. She was already dressed for the party in—what else—a tennis outfit.

“Can you knock?” you asked flatly.

“Can you not embarrass yourself?” she shot back, arms crossed as she leaned against your doorframe. “Honestly, you’re really going through all this effort? For what? You do know no one’s going to believe that Gojo’s actually into you, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Brielle.”

“But I’m curious,” she continued, tilting her head with a fake-sweet smile. “How exactly did you get him to date you? Did you beg him? Threaten to expose some deep, dark secret? Oh! Maybe you paid him.”

You turned back to the mirror, adjusting your police cap. “Shut up.”

Brielle smirked. “You didn’t deny it.”

Before you could fire back, the doorbell rang. Your heart skipped.

Brielle noticed, her smirk widening. “Oh my god, is that him?”

Ignoring her, you pushed past and hurried down the stairs, heart pounding a little too fast. When you swung the door open, you were immediately met with Satoru, looking unfairly attractive.

His inmate jumpsuit was slightly unzipped, revealing a white tank top underneath. Silver handcuffs dangled from one wrist, and his white hair was effortlessly tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed looking perfect.

He grinned. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite officer. Are you here to arrest me? Because I’d gladly surrender.”

Behind you, Brielle and your parents watched the exchange with varying levels of curiosity. Brielle, in particular, was staring like she’d just seen a unicorn.

“Oh my god,” she practically purred, stepping forward. “You look so good. You know, if you wanted a matching costume, you could’ve told me. I would’ve made such a good cop.”

He didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he ignored everyone and stepped forward, grabbing your waist and pulling you into a tight hug.

“You look amazing, sweetheart,” he murmured close to your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Then, before you could process anything, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your brain completely short-circuited.

Brielle looked like she might combust.

Before you could even recover, he pulled back and flashed you a grin. “Ready to go?”

You barely managed a nod before he tugged you toward the door, not sparing your family a second glance.

“You ready for our big debut?” he grinned once you were inside his car.

You exhaled sharply, still recovering. “I hate you.”

He laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulders as he pulled out of the driveway.

The house was packed, the music was loud, and Satoru was making sure everyone saw you two together.

It had started with subtle things—his arm lingering around your waist, leaning in closer than necessary whenever someone looked your way, the occasional forehead kiss that left your skin burning.

Then he turned it up a notch.

He pulled you into conversations with people you didn’t know, introduced you as his girlfriend, and sent pointed smirks at the gossip-prone girls who clearly didn’t believe it.

You barely had time to process any of it before he was dragging you toward another group of people, where an enthusiastic voice called out, “Seven Minutes in Heaven, let’s go!”

Satoru’s eyes lit up. “Oh, we have to play.”

You groaned. “Do we?”

“Obviously. What kind of couple doesn’t?” he teased, giving you a look like he was daring you to say no.

You sighed, letting yourself be pulled into the circle forming in the living room. A few people had already gone, disappearing into the closet or a nearby bedroom to the loud whistles and teasing of the crowd.

And then it was Satoru’s turn.

He grabbed the bottle and spun it with an exaggerated flourish, watching it twirl with that signature shit-eating grin.

It slowed, making a few more rotations before finally landing on—

You.

The room erupted into cheers.

Satoru immediately turned to you, his smirk widening. “Looks like we’re up, babe.”

Your eye twitched at the pet name, but before you could react, he was already tugging you to your feet.

As he led you toward the hall, you caught sight of Toji and his girlfriend standing nearby.

Toji regarded Satoru with a displeased stare, as if his mere existence was an offense to him. But it was his girlfriend who caught your attention—she wasn’t smiling, wasn’t laughing, just watching with an unreadable expression.

For some reason, it made your stomach twist.

Without thinking, you hugged Satoru’s arm a little tighter.

He noticed.

And instead of questioning it, he just smirked and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Then, as you passed, he made sure to dramatically pull you into his room, slamming the door shut behind you.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Satoru spun around, hands in his pockets, smirking like he had already won something.

“So,” he drawled, tilting his head, “what’s the plan, babe?”

You crossed your arms. “Don’t call me that.”

“Babe. Sweetheart. My beloved.” His grin widened at the way your nose scrunched in irritation.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re avoiding the question.” He flopped onto the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “We need to make it look real.”

You groaned, running a hand down your face. “We could just sit here and talk. Let time run out.”

“Lame.”

“Realistic.”

Satoru scoffed. “You think my friends wanna open this door and find us having a casual conversation about our majors?” He gave you a look like he was daring you to be smarter than that.

You bit your lip. He wasn’t wrong.

“Okay… then what do you suggest?”

A slow smirk crept onto his lips.

“I have a couple ideas.”

“Absolutely not.”

Your bickering went on for a few more minutes, the occasional knock interrupting your conversation. As Time went on the voices behind the door grew louder and more animated.

Another knock on the door made you both freeze.

“Times almost up, lovebirds!”

Panic flickered in Satoru’s eyes, but then his face shifted into something more determined.

You barely had a second to react before he grabbed you, threw you onto the bed, and buried his face into the crook of your neck.

Your breath caught. “Satoru—”

“Shh, relax. Just making it convincing.”

Then you felt it—his lips on your skin.

Your whole body stiffened. The first press of his mouth was warm, but then—a sharp pull. Teeth. A slow, deliberate drag of his lips.

Your fingers dug into the sheets, eyes going wide.

“Satoru—”

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine.

“Mm, you’re reacting a lot for someone who hates me,” he mused, voice low, teasing.

You wanted to throw him off of you, but you couldn’t move. His lips were still there, sucking, biting, soothing over the mark with his tongue. It was too much, too good, too embarrassing.

A sound slipped out of you before you could stop it—soft, breathy, needy.

Satoru stilled.

Then he grinned against your skin.

“Oh?” His voice dripped with amusement. He pulled back just slightly, lips brushing over your ear. “Did you just moan?”

Your entire face burned.

“I—shut up!”

His laughter was low and smug. “Nah, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart.” He pressed another slow, taunting kiss over the mark. “Was that your first time getting a hickey?”

You shoved at his chest, hard.

“Get off, asshole!”

Before he could tease you more, the door swung open.

Satoru didn’t even flinch. He just shifted slightly so that he was still half on top of you, turning just right so that the mark on your neck would be visible.

“Yo, Gojo, time’s up—”

Satoru sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“Guys. Seriously?” He let out an exaggerated groan. “I wanna spend some time with my girlfriend if you get what I mean.”

A chorus of whoops and knowing laughter followed.

“Alright, alright, we see you.”

“We’ll leave you two alone.”

Satoru smirked.

They shut the door.

Silence.

You shoved him off of you immediately.

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” He stretched out on the bed like he hadn’t just completely ruined your life. “No need to be shy, princess. You were totally into it.”

Your face felt like it was on fire.

“I was NOT!”

He just grinned. “Sure you weren’t.”

You turned away, flustered, only for your eyes to catch your reflection in his mirror.

The deep, dark mark on your neck stood out way too much.

Your stomach dropped.

“Oh my god.” You grabbed at your neck like it would somehow disappear. “You gave me an actual hickey, you psycho!”

Satoru propped his chin up with one hand, looking very pleased with himself.

“Oops.”

“Oops?!”

He chuckled. “Hey, it’s good. Now people will really believe it.”

You stared at him in horror. “I’m going to murder you in your sleep.”

He grinned. “Joke’s on you, I’m a very light sleeper.”

“I hate you.”

“You said that already.”

“I’ll say it again!”

Satoru just smiled, looking entirely too entertained. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

You hurled a pillow at his head.

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jackiespurnell · 2 months ago

Text

it's just pretend, right? - part three (fake dating au jackie taylor x fem reader)

part one part two

summary: jackie’s boyfriend cheated on her with her best friend, and what kind of teammate would you be if you didn’t help her out?

tw: none

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its been about three weeks since you and jackie started fake dating and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying it. from the car rides with her to and from school to the heated make out session that you both deemed were for ‘practice’ (even though you’re not entirely sure what it was the two of you were practicing for), you were having the time of your life with her.

right now, you were currently sitting on jackie’s bed, your legs wrapped around her waist, her hands placed on your hips, and your tongue down her throat. pure fucking heaven.

“fuck” you hear her murmur. “you’re a good kisser, you know?” she says against your mouth, and you feel her lips form a smile against yours. “mm, you too.” you tell her, scooting further in her lap. you weren’t sure exactly what you two were doing, but you were sure having fun with it.

she flopped down to lay her head on her pillows, and pulled you down with her from your shirt. she sucked onto your tongue, biting down on your bottom lip. “damn, taylor” you tease. “didn’t realize you were so freaky.”

she just keeps kissing you, harder and sloppier, and it felt good.

eventually, you pull away, resting your head on her chest, immediately taking your hand in hers. “your hand is warm” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hand. “and you’re cold.” “i’m always cold, baby.”

oh, yeah. and there was that, too. the pet names. she calls you things like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’ but baby. that was her favorite. and yours too, to be honest. especially when you two are kissing and she murmurs it against your lips and you feel her voice vibrate against your lips and oh, you could die right there and you’d die happy.

“hey can i talk to you about something?” she asks, tracing little patterns into her skin. you let out a little hum as to say ‘yes, sure, talk to me about whatever, talk to me for the rest of your life’.

you can’t help but hope she’s asking something about the two of you. like, maybe she wants to get together for real. maybe she wants to be able to kiss you for real and not just for fake. maybe she wants to be able to able to call her your actual girlfriend, to tell you how much she loves you. or maybe that’s what she’s going to say right now. that she loves you. maybe-

“i’m thinking about forgiving shauna”

wait, what the fuck?

“forgiving her? why?” you try to sound calm, which you’re obviously not, but maybe jackie has a really good reason for this. what that reason could be, you have no idea, but you’re hoping it’s something good.

“i mean, she literally got with your boyfriend. that’s messed up.”

“and i know that, but like, she’s my best friend. i miss her. and besides, she sends me like, twenty apology messages a day. her and jeff aren’t even booking up anymore. i think she really is sorry.”

you pull out from her embrace, and you sit up. you feel her hesitation to let go out of you, and part of you wants to crawl back into her arms and never let go but the other part of you is absolutely pissed that jackie’s even considering getting back in touch with shauna. “wait, you still get her messages? you told me you blocked her.” jackie bites her lip softly in the way she usually does whenever she's feeling awkward, and you internally curse yourself for thinking about how cute it is when you’re supposed to be frustrated with her.

“i did, i swear i did. but…then i unblocked her. you know, just to see if she really did feel bad. and she does! i’m not saying i have to be like, best friends with her again but i just wanna start talking with her.”

“but i don’t understand!” you say, trying not to get upset, knowing that it’s not your place to get upset. “how could you want to associate yourself with someone who screwed you over that badly?”

maybe you were being irrational. maybe you were being too harsh. maybe you were just scared that if jackie accepts shauna’s apology she’s no longer going to need you. maybe you’re scared that you’re never going to get to feel her lips on yours again. maybe you’re scared that this pretend relationship thing is really just that. pretend.

“it’s really none of your business!” she snaps. and damn, you’d be lying if you said that didn’t hurt. “none of my business? none of my fucking business? wow. don’t forget, we’re only doing this because of what she did to you! i’m only here right now because of how she screwed you over. so, yeah, it kind of is my business because now i’m listening to you talk about how you’re going to take that traitor back as a friend. i mean, do you realize how that sounds?”

“oh my god, fuck you!” she scoffs. “you’re not here because of shauna, you’re way because you got caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing, which, in case you forgot, was snooping on my conversation, and you needed an easy way out. you started this. you are the reason that you’re here right now, and if i want to take back my best friend, then i’m going to.”

yeah, fuck this.

“whatever, jackie.” you roll your eyes, getting up from her bed. if she didn’t want to listen, there was nothing you could do about it. “do whatever you want. see if i fucking care.”

and as you slammed the door to her room shut, you almost believed it.

the next day, you had practice. and while typically you looked forward to being back on the field, today was not your day, it really wasn’t. because practice meant seeing jackie. and seeing jackie means remembering just how badly you fucked things up between the two of you yesterday.

now, technically, you know that you were in the right. sure, you didn’t know that much about shauna and outside of the whole jeff drama, she seems like a decent person, but still. you knew jackie deserved better than that. but you understand why jackie got so defensive. and you really do want to apologize, especially because you know jackie isn’t going to apologize first, she’s way too stubborn.

but then again, so are you.

so, you go through all of practice without talking to jackie. without even looking at her, which was honestly, a bigger struggle than it should’ve been. the only thing keeping you from staring was the hope that maybe she was the one staring at you. which was less likely to happen than you wanted, which is why not looking was the best option. so you could pretend. pretend like she really was in love with you. in love with you like you were in love with her.

after practice, you head back to the locker room and once again, you hear arguing. how fucking ironic.

and you know that obviously, obviously, you shouldn’t go check it out, your nosy ass is the only reason you’re in this situation in the first place, it’s the reason why you’re all mopy and heartbroken and depressed, it’s a terrible idea, a really fucking terrible idea. but then again being nosy was also the reason you even know how jackie tastes; it’s the only reason you’ve even gotten close to real dating. yes, it caused a lot of bad, but it also caused some good….

it’s like they said. curiosity killed the cat. and you always were a cat person.

so, you go closer to the noise, hiding behind the lockers, listening to see who it was arguing. and of course - of fucking course - it was jackie. honestly, you’re surprised it took you this long to figure it out. you’d recognize that voice anywhere. the same one that whimpered into your mouth whenever you’d thrust your tongue into her mouth, the same one that made the prettiest fucking nosies whenever you climbed onto her lap and placed kisses on her neck. of course you’d recognize it was her. and then you heard shauna’s voice and of course you’re pissed cause why did she actually go through with talking to shauna but then you realize wait she’s mad at shauna.

“you know i wanted to be your friend again, i really fucking wanted to, and she told me not be, and i didn’t listen, cause i just wanted my best friend back, but you know what? she was right about you!” jackie yells, and you can hear the tremble in her voice, and you know she’s seconds away from crying, and the only thing going through your mind is how much you fucking hate shauna.

“oh, if your pretty little girlfriend is so fucking right then why are you here? why not go running back to her, huh? if i’m so in the wrong, why are you still here? face it, jackie - you just miss the version of me that listened to whatever you said. you miss the version of me that did whatever it was you wanted. do you realize how i felt when you started dating the guy i liked - which by the way, i know damn well i wanted him way longer than you did - just to turn around and say you’re fucking gay? what the hell, jackie! i mean, were you just using him? the same fucking way you did to me? all you ever care about is yourself and your popularity. and now it’s finally catching up to you. and if your little girlfriend can’t see that, well then give it time because she will and she’ll leave and maybe then you’ll finally grow up and see it’s not always about you.”

oh yeah. you definitely hate shauna fucking shipman.

“i think you should fucking go.” you tell shauna, walking up from behind the locker. you see the look ot jackie’s face, the tears falling down her eyes, and it breaks your heart.

“and if you really think jackie’s the one who needs to change, i think you take a look in the fucking mirror, because she isn’t the one who got with her best friend’s boyfriend, is she, shauna? no. she isn’t. but she is the one who stood by you every day for twelve years. she’s the girl who called you her best friend. she’s the fucking person who was willing to forgive you even after you had sex with her goddamn boyfriend because you were feeling insecure and jealous because she fucking missed you. because she’s such a good friend. she is the best person i’ve ever met in my life and it’s not because of the fact that she’s hot, or popular, or the captain of the goddamn soccer team. it’s because she’s a good person. it’s because she makes me happy, it’s because i’m fucking in love with her. and i really, really hope one day you’re able to understand and appreciate her even half as much as i do. so, like i said, you should really. fucking. go.”

and the look on shauna’s face? fucking priceless.

the second shauna leaves, you pull jackie into a hug and she immediately starts crying. you stroke her hair softly and press kisses onto the crown of her head, hoping that maybe the soft affection will take away some of the pain, even just a little bit.

“thank you.” jackie says softly. “no one’s ever stood up for me like that before.”

“yeah, well, i’d do it again in a heartbeat.” you pull away slightly to get a better look at her face. she was still crying, but it was less now, and of course she still looked adorable even with her tear stained face. you push a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “come on jackie, let me take you home.”

the car ride home was pretty silent. you weren’t sure if she wanted to talk yet, so you didn’t try and pressure her. things still were kind of awkward between the two of you, but you had a feeling it was better now. you let yourself stare at jackie during red lights and sometimes, you would feel her eyes on you as well. you noticed how she was twirling her hair, one of her nervous habits, and you hated how sad she looked. still, you knew you couldn’t just fix things, no matter how badly you wanted to. you knew it would take time. but you were patient. or, at least, you could try to be. for jackie.

you eventually arrived at her house and instead of saying goodbye and leaving your car, she hesitated for a moment.

“can i ask you a question?”

“yeah, go ahead.”

“did….did you mean it, back there, when you said you were in love with me.”

if she asked you this twenty four hours ago, your immediate response would be to deny it, to say it was just for show, that you didn’t mean it and everything is still just pretend because you were too scared of rejection - but this isn’t twenty four hours ago, this is now, and right now you couldn’t care less if she rejects you. you just need her to know how much she means to you.

“yeah. yeah, i fucking meant it.”

and with that she smiles, and you can’t imagine a feeling better than this. because right now, nothing else matters, except for you and jackie. jackie, your favorite person. jackie, the girl sitting in your car. jackie, the girl you’re in love with.

“that’s good. cause i’m in love with you too.”

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#yellowjackets #jackie taylor #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #ella purnell #yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets jackie #fake dating au #fanfic #fanfiction #no beta we die like jackie #maria writes ౨ৎ #the end!!

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pars-ley · 8 months ago

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Come Alive (part one)

Pairing: Jackson Wang x female reader Summary: A night out with your friends takes a very unexpected turn when a gorgeous, kindhearted stranger offers to pretend to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention. All you can think about is the prospect of what could be…but for him, it’s not that simple. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: Making out / mentions of heartbreak / mentions of cheating (not by main characters) / slight stalking or predatory behaviour from non named, small character. W/C: 3.9k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @flurrys-creativity for being lovely and helpful as always. Notes: I’m back from abyss of life/work/kids and I'm writing again, if anyone still cares. I’m working on more kpop fanfic and going to try to post as regularly as I can. Please, comment and share, it really helps keep the motivation of writing going, thank you for anyone who reads! This is part one of approx five parts.

Feeling unwelcome eyes on you as you move further into the crowd to escape, gives you a knot in the pit of your stomach that pulls tightly on your insides. You try not to but end up glancing back at the man you're attempting to get away from, only to discover your suspicions are correct, he is watching your retreat with annoyance etched across his brow.

Why do some guys find the word ‘no’ such a hard answer to accept?

It's not like you were rude about it, in fact, you went out of your way to be as nice as possible but clearly, it didn't soften the blow.

You head to the bar, figuring you'll be safe for a while if you can talk to the bar staff, and pull out your phone, staring at the same message of "on our way" in your group chat. That was twenty minutes ago and you were still waiting.

Your decision to get ready at work and come from there instead of pre drinking with the girls, now looks like a mistake.

Your gaze travels nervously back to the stranger and your stomach drops at seeing him moving slowly towards you through the crowd. For the love of…

“Can I be of any assistance?” A deep male voice sounds to your right, causing your head to snap over to the figure in the neighbouring bar stool.

You're greeted by a handsome face with perfect features marred with a deep frown, as he nods his head in the persistent strangers direction. “He's making you uncomfortable,” he says matter-of-factly.

You nod, surprised anyone has even noticed, the dancefloor of the club was very busy.

“You can say that again.” You respond before ordering another drink. “Is he still heading this way?” You ask, afraid to look for yourself.

You watch the handsome stranger’s face explore the crowd, eyes scanning faces but you know when he's found him by the way darkness sweeps across his features. “He seems to be assessing the situation, just a short distance away.”

You sigh and take a long sip of your drink. “In that case, can you pretend we know each other? Then he might just decide to leave me alone.”

His responding smile is dazzling and has your mouth stretching up in a mirroring grin.

“Not a problem, just go with me ok?” He says, as he slides your bar stool towards him, so your knees are in between his legs. “If you feel uncomfortable with anything I do, at any point, just say the word and I'll stop.” He says, leaning into your ear. “Now,” he pulls back slightly and tucks your hair behind your ear, in such a gentle manner you barely feel it, “firstly, i'm Jackson.”

His fingers softly trail down the length of your arm sending a shiver down your spine that you find yourself relishing in, rather than shying away from this complete stranger. There's oddly something comforting and wholesome about him.

“Secondly, how do you want to play this?” His hand comes to rest lightly on your thigh and when your eyes go from that to his face, your gaze locks and you can't look away. Focused on his brown eyes and how intense they stare back at you, you note a hint of sadness in them that he's trying to conceal and wonder what's the cause.

You frown trying to understand the question he's just asked and what he means and when his mouth pulls up in a smile your eyes follow the movement.

“In the instances I've seen, men like this back off faster if they think you're with a boyfriend or love interest?” He watches you carefully, assessing your reaction.

You swallow, his scent swirling around you, like fresh linen with an underline of sweetness, is making it hard to focus, especially when the heat from his hand still on your leg is radiating through your body.

“Yes,” you clear your throat and shift in your seat, “fine with me.”

“Like I said, at any point you're not comfortable, just say the word and I'll stop, ok?”

You nod, “got it.”

With a wide eyed smile, he takes your hand and entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your wrist.

“Thank you,” you say, leaning into him slightly as you settle into your new role. “I'm waiting for my friends but they're late.”

He smiles and pushes the hair off your shoulder as he leans into your ear. “Happy to be of service, there are much worse things than pretending to be a beautiful stranger's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks grow hot at his words and you're thankful that he can't see from his position.

“And why are you here drinking alone?” You attempt to deflect the focus from yourself, wanting to know more about him but you're aware of how his body stiffens at the question, only briefly, before relaxing again as he leans back away from you slightly. “Ah,” he sighs, “I'm attempting to ease the pain of heartbreak by drinking myself into oblivion.” His eyes avoid yours but you catch the raw emotion in them before they do.

“I'm so sorry,” you comfortingly squeeze the hand he still holds of yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He brings your fingers to his mouth and kisses them, you’re mesmerised by how soft his lips are against your skin, not to mention how tender the action is.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes, doesn't even come close. “Pretty clichéd stuff, I don't want to bore you with it.”

You hook a knuckle under his chin and tilt his head up, until he meets your gaze again. “Try me.”

His face visibly softens, eyebrows knitted together in anguish, he looks torn as unsure whether to share his story or if he should continue acting out your pretence. “I, er, found my girlfriend sleeping with one of my best friends.” He shrugs and shakes his head as if trying to push away the image. “I've now lost two people I cared deeply about and to be honest, I feel kind of baffled right now.”

You sit and watch as he surveys the crowd, clearly trying to distract himself from the pain. Your heart actually hurts for him. Here he was, so hurt and yet still trying to help you out and make your evening better.

“I know it's easy to say but I've been there, it does get easier.” You give him a reassuring smile, “and it may not help much right now, but it sounds to me like they're the ones who have lost something, not you.”

His face softens and his lips twitch up into a slight smile. “I appreciate that.”

Peeling your eyes away from him for the first time since you began your conversation, you take a large sip of your drink and relish the sweetness as it goes down.

Jackson looks over in the direction of the other guy. “He is persistent, isn't he?” It was clearly his turn to change the subject.

Rolling your eyes you shift closer to Jackson. “How do you feel about giving him a bit of a show?”

His eyebrow arches as he turns his head slowly back in your direction. “What did you have in mind?”

“Kiss me. I'm sure he'll get the hint then.”

You see something flash in Jackson's eyes but before you can recognise what it is, it's gone as quick as it appeared. “You sure?”

Feeling yourself smiling shyly, you look up at him through your lashes, “absolutely. Only if you're comfortable with it, of course?”

“Definitely.” He whispers, standing from his stool and nudging your knees apart slightly to get closer. As he towers above you, his hands come up and gently cup either side of your jaw, arching your face up towards him, he leans down but pauses merely inches away, “you never told me your name.”

His breath tickling your skin only draws you in more.

“Y/n,” you reply almost breathlessly, as your heart gallops like a horse on a race track, eager to get to the finish line.

He smiles sweetly. “Nice to meet you, y/n.”

You take note of his blown out pupils and know, judging by the throbbing from between your legs, yours surely matches his. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and all you can do is watch as his head tilts slightly and he begins to close the space between you. His unbearably slow manoeuvre is deliberate but you grow impatient to know what his lips feel like against yours and before you register the movement, you’re grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you.

His soft lips crash against yours and you hear his small, surprised moan as his hand suddenly finds the base of your neck, keeping you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

Behind your closed lids, all you can see is a cloudy red as heat and lust bloom inside you, sending a flush across your skin you've not experienced before. It awakens a hunger inside you that is very unexpected. The noise around you disappears as you're acutely aware of your heart pounding in your ears. The feel of your blood rushing through your veins, making your body throb with excitement, nerves raw with want. It had been a long time since you'd kissed a stranger, and a longer time since you'd let your defences down and given into a base desire.

His hand entwines with yours before pulling you up on your feet, hearing the screech of the bar stool as it’s pushed away from you before he turns your body to the bar and cages you in, pressing his hard body against you. Your mouth devours him hungrily and when your tongue reaches out tentatively, he welcomes you in.

He tastes sweet and woody with a hint of spice, making you wonder what he was drinking but unable to focus on much apart from the sensual way he’s kissing you, slow, intentional and yet, intensely urgent.

Your mouths dance together, perfectly in sync in their own private serenade, with your hands exploring and finding their way up around his neck, fingers gripped into his hair to keep him close to you. When he moans into your mouth, you almost lose all composure as you break apart to take a breath and take control by spinning and shoving him against the bar. He arches an eyebrow in surprise as you feel his hand snake around your waist, pulling you back against him. His fingers dig into your back keeping you firmly in place, not that you want to move anywhere else at this moment.

His scent swirls around you, sweeping you up and carrying you away, an absolute hurricane for your senses. Just when it all feels too much and when you're squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief, he pulls away, leaving you gasping and full of want.

He pants, breath fanning out over your face as your bodies still remain flush against each other.

The silence between you is so thick you could almost slice it with a blade. Something in your eyes reflects in his, where you both seem to revel in the sudden sexual tension between you. He remains clinging to you and the radiating heat of his body muddles your thoughts and leaves you wanting nothing more than to melt further into his embrace. This feeling between you is nothing like you were used to, passionate beyond belief. How can a stranger have you feeling this way? All you know is his name, and yet, there was something so comforting about him, so familiar.

His thumb strokes along your jaw as his mouth pulls into a smile, the action; so gentle it makes you want to lean into it but you resist.

“Wow.” He finally breaks the silence with a husky whisper.

“Wow.” You repeat, still shocked at your body's reaction to him.

You clear your throat, an attempt to also clear your hazy head and bring yourself back down to earth.

Jackson's gaze flutters begrudgingly away from you. “It worked,” he says, returning his dark eyes to you, holding your neck and studying your face like you were the Mona Lisa. “He's gone.”

If you were honest, you no longer care about the man in question, he is nothing but a tiny speck on your radar, ready to be flicked away, as if he were nothing better than a microscopic bug on a windshield. Jackson, however, is the beautiful sunset view stretched out in front of you.

Your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket makes you jump, snapping you out of whatever trance you'd been in, as you scramble to answer it, recognising one of your friends on the caller id.

“Sorry,” you say to him, as your body suddenly feels cold without him pressed against you.

He smiles but gives you the room you need.

“Hello, Jennie?”

“Babe, I'm so sorry.” You hear over the line, apology evident in her tone.

“Don't worry about it, but where the fuck are you guys?”

There's a pause long enough you have to check you still have reception, you put your finger in your other ear. “Jennie?”

“Didn't you get my messages? We're not coming.”

You pull your phone away from your ear and see you have seven unread messages from her, letting out an audible groan, you return the phone to your ear. “Why? What happened?”

“Rose and Lisa both have that stomach thing that's been going around, they're here at my place…throwing up, Jisoo turned up and fled the scene as soon as she could, not that i blame her.”

You grimace, that does not sound fun, or like anything you want to be a part of. “Ok,” you sigh, attempting to get your head on straight, “do you need anything?”

“A hazmat suit?” She laughs and you can't help but do the same, even if her night has definitely turned out worse than yours.

You notice Jackson glance at you, hearing a one sided conversation but clearly trying not to listen in.

“Na, I'm good, girl. I'm so sorry about tonight, will you be ok getting home?”

You roll your eyes, “I'm a grown woman, I think I can manage to get a cab by myself.”

You hear an amused breath down the phone.

“I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” You say. “Let me know if you need me to swing by at all.”

“No, go on without me, save yourself…,” her voice gets quieter as she hangs up, making you giggle.

“Everything ok?” Jackson asks, genuine concern furrowing his brow.

You sigh, returning to your stool at the bar, “I got stood up.”

He frowns and joins you, taking his seat. “By your friends?”

You nod, unsure whether you want to go home just yet or get to know Jackson a bit more. “Two of them have got some kind of bug.”

There’s a moment of pensive silence between you.

“Before I spotted you,” he starts, “I was about to leave, I'd been staring into an empty glass long enough.”

You take note of the sudden sadness in his tone and your heart strings tug in his direction.

“If you're ready to go, we can share a cab, if you like?” He asks, seeming somewhat hesitant, amusing seeing as he had his tongue down your throat only a moment ago.

“Sure, that would be great.”

You can't help the disappointment you feel settling into the pit of your stomach, clearly not ready to cut the night short with him but, understanding in his current heartbreak state, it may not be the best time.

He grabs his jacket from the chair, draping it over his arm, then pulls out his phone and books a taxi on his app. “Should be here in seven minutes. Shall we head out?”

Nodding, you take the hand he offers you and let him lead you out through the compact crowd on the dancefloor.

The cold night air hits you, a stark contrast to the heat you felt inside, and you feel foolish for not bringing a jacket, forgetting how cool the night air can be.

A shiver runs through you, as you fold your arms across your chest at an attempt to stave off the chill. Jackson must notice, as something caresses your shoulders and when you look down, his jacket is draped around you.

“No, no, it's ok–”

“I'm afraid I have to insist,” he cuts you off with a challenging smirk and you relent, pulling the thick material around you.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly, as you both walk slowly to the corner of the next road, away from the main entrance of the club.

“So what do you do in your spare time, aside from playing the part of ‘knight in shining armour’?” You ask, into the sudden awkward silence.

His responding laugh lights up the darkness of the night, coupled with a smile so bright that even the sun must envy him.

“That's not a title I've had before.” He glances at you shyly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “You want the run down of me huh?”

You nod encouragingly.

“Ok, well, I have a lot of active hobbies, I go running almost everyday, rock climbing at the weekends, I love basketball and I did fencing as a child so I occasionally dip a toe back into it. Aside from that, I play piano and write music, I can speak four languages, I’m allergic to cats, I really hate spicy food, I have an older brother and I work for a fashion company.”

He shrugs at the end like none of it was the slightest bit impressive as you try to process the information.

“You speak four languages?” You ask, unable to hide the shock.

He nods and smiles bashfully. “I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

“How? One is hard enough but four, you’re just gluten for punishment really.”

He laughs again. “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t find it hard, I guess I'm just very determined.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pause when you come to the corner and perch on the wall of one of the buildings, the cold stone through your jeans causes you to shiver.

“Your turn.” He takes a seat next to you, watching your face, awaiting your response.

You pause, thinking if you had anything as interesting as that to tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed by your dull life. “Well, I'm not as interesting as you but, I too go running a few times a week and I go to yoga class twice a week, that’s all the physical activity I partake in. I work for an animation studio, which is my dream job and I love it there. I also have an older brother, who annoys the hell out of me but he’s my favourite person in the whole world, although I'd die if he ever found that out.” You both laugh and you can’t help but notice the genuine interest twinkling in his eyes as you talk. “I love lazy sundays of sleeping in, reading and ordering take out. Going out for breakfast is my favourite weekend activity and I’m a sucker for a dessert. I'll choose sweet over savoury every day of the week.”

He opens his mouth to speak but the taxi honking his horn as he arrives in front of you, makes you both jump and steals your attention.

Jackson holds the door open for you and you slide in along the leather seats. Inside it smells of perfume, alcohol and take away, you waste no time opening the window on your side as he climbs in next to you. You tell the driver your address as you're the first drop off and your short journey begins.

“That's quite a statement,” Jackson says over the quiet music on the radio, brow heavy with confusion. “Sweet over savoury?”

“There's not a doubt in my mind about it,” you reiterate, “desserts are the queens of meals.”

“But what about starters?”

You shrug. “I think they're overrated.”

His mouth pops open as he stares at you, the action so comical you can't help but erupt with laughter.

“Listen, I could take you to a dessert place that would literally change your life, and I can guarantee you'd move over to my way of thinking.”

He raises a brow. “I love your confidence. I just might have to accept that challenge.”

Your stomach flips at the prospect of seeing him again as you try to quell the excitement blooming inside you. “Well, you better get ready to lose.” You poke your tongue out at him and do not fail to notice the way his eyes travel hungrily to the action but before either of you have a chance to act on it, the car pulls to a stop.

“I think this is you,” Jackson says, getting out of the car and rushing around to open your door. You take the hand he holds out to you and let him pull you gently from the cab. When you’re upright you realise then how close your bodies are once again, basking in the heat from his body and definitely no longer needing the jacket. You tilt your head up to him and your eyes connect in a heated, yet hesitant stare. His hands linger at your hips, suddenly unsure where the boundary is.

“Thank you, for tonight,” you say quietly, every movement seeming so loud outside your apartment building.

“It was my pleasure.” He smirks and the way your core clenches has you releasing a shaky breath. “Thank you, for taking my mind off things tonight. You proved there is enjoyment after heartbreak, I've barely thought about my ex whilst in your company.”

Your mouth turns up in a smile before you can try and stop it. “I'm happy to oblige any time.”

He opens his mouth but closes it again, eyes still focused on yours but glazed with conflict. “I know the timing isn't great, but would you maybe want to have dinner…or dessert sometime?”

You laugh at the conversation in the cab. Your heart swells in your chest and you take a breath to quell your excitement. “If I give you my number, then you can message me when you're ready, how about that?”

He nods, features soft, kind eyes sweeping over your face as he hands you his phone. This man is so intense, you find it hard to focus on anything, even breathing feels like a struggle when his gaze is on you. You type in your number and save it, before handing it back. He leans in and for a second you prepare yourself for another wild, steamy kiss, but instead his lips meet your cheek in a gentle caress, a featherlight touch that has you wanting more but understanding it's not the right time for him.

You smile and walk over to your building, turning to have one last look at him as you pass the threshold and only regretting it with how devastatingly handsome he looks leaning up against the car, watching and waiting for you to get home safely. As he waves and gives you one last smile so sexy you bite your lips as you watch the door close, separating the two of you and ending your surprising night with him.

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