#glamping in the US | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ahundredtimesover · 3 months ago

Text

Something About You (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: friends au, vacation au, slow burn, romcom-ish vibe; adulting; inspired by AYS; PE teacher!JK and researcher!OC; fluff, comfort, smut (?)

Chapter Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating (JK’s ex) (18+)

Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series Summary: You and Jungkook have been friends for a decade. And while he’s the charming and dependable, often reserved boy-next-door, he’s also just been a friend - a constant in your life, a part of a whole, and someone who’s seen all the flawed and probably unattractive sides of you.

A resumption of your friend group’s out-of-town trips has caused you to spend more time with him. And somewhere in between the morning coffee in the forest, running around in the snow, and watching the sunset on a boat, he’s become something more. And you’re not quite sure how to deal with it.

🎶: Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney || Yes or No by Jungkook

A/N: Hi, it's here! This is a tribute to my group of friends. BTS is comfort and I love them so much 💜 Other female characters are inspired by some other fictional characters (tell me if you know who!) Also to Kim Namjoon, I'm sorry 🤣 (you'll get it). Please enjoy!

Your eyes dart to the time on your laptop screen.

4:17 PM.

This online meeting was supposed to end half an hour ago and you planned on clocking out right after so you could get to where you need to be but you should’ve known better. Your research team had taken so much time discussing operational aspects of the project that you are in charge of and you had to keep everyone on track. It worked for the most part.

But while your work chat is still buzzing with questions that you state you’ll respond to next week, your phone’s group chat is being bombarded with messages from your best friend.

[from: jiminie pabo] yooo ___ are you on your way??

[from: jiminie pabo] you better not flake on us or else tae will wrestle you

[from: jiminie pabo] reply to me!!

You manage to keep your expression neutral as you sneakily reply and say that you’re still stuck in a meeting and it’ll probably take you another 30 minutes before you could leave. Your car’s in the warehouse after a little accident so you’re gonna have to book a ride. It’s rush hour on a Friday so it’ll be tough, but you’re managing this team and you can’t just end the meeting without your members having ironed their thoughts out.

[from: jiminie pabo] kook is just finishing up. i asked him to pick you up from your place

[from: jiminie pabo] your carriage is on its way. you’re welcome

You sigh in relief internally at not having to worry about transportation. And it’s shortly after when the man in question sends you a text message to say that he’s just left the gymnasium and will get to you in 40 minutes max.

That’s enough time for you to get ready and make sure you have all your things packed and your mind devoid of all things work-related because as you’ve promised yourself, you’ll try this whole work-life balance madness and shut off for the weekend.

But then again, you don’t really have a choice when you’ve got that trip planned with your friends in the mountains. Or was it the forest? You’re not sure; the outdoors are all the same to you.

Taehyung had just arrived after a year and a half in London where he was making waves in a few theater productions. He wanted to immediately spend time with your group of 12, and a little vacation was planned right away, just like how it was in the old days.

The camping-turned-glamping weekend was because you convinced everyone that setting up tents was just gonna waste your time, and the point of the trip is to spend it together. You pretty much pouted your way through it, but they also know you well enough that not sleeping on a bed and not having proper running water just isn’t your thing. Doing it once was enough, and the last time you camped, you were miserable.

Hoseok luckily found a property that operated cabins with all the comforts of home. You saw a bed and bathroom and you locked in, and you’ve been waiting for this weekend since your older friend laid out all the activities you’ll be doing.

Adulting is stressful enough; trying to make a difference in the world is even more. The time you spend with the people who know you best and who accept all versions of you has become your key to survival.

And yes, that includes your brat of a best friend.

[from: jiminie pabo] get ur flat asses here soon, ok?

[from: jiminie pabo] i just want to eat and drink and pretend I don’t have responsibilities

You decide against defending your not-so-flat ass because it really doesn’t stand a chance against his, and instead say you’ll update them once you’re near.

You head out the door once Jungkook texts you that he’s just turned to your street, and you find him already opening the trunk and reaching out for your bag, just like the gentleman that he is. He’s donned in his usual sweats, a look you’re so used to that you forget sometimes he’s a proper adult with a proper job.

“Did your students win?” You ask as you enter the car.

“They placed, so they’ve got another tournament to go,” he smiles. “They were so shocked but I knew they could do it. They worked so hard.”

“Having a good coach helps, I guess,” you wink.

He chuckles then asks about your meeting, and you narrate how tiring this week - more like this whole month - has been. Between the weekly research conferences you’ve been organizing and the daily management of your teams, you haven’t really had time to rest.

“Is that why you insisted on going for a cabin trip?” He asks. “Honestly, I was looking forward to setting up camp and all that.”

“I know you do that for fun and stuff but why would we do all the work and set up our own tents? This isn’t a team building activity, you know?”

“Isn’t that the point of going on a friend trip? To bond and do stuff together like that?”

“We do enough bonding when we make our food,” you point out.

“Yeah? And what exactly do you contribute?”

“Excuse me, I’m the taster,” you gasp. “Trying the food before you all do is like, a crucial role.”

“You can’t even tell if a dish needs more salt or not,” he chuckles, referring to your obvious lack of food knowledge and your very basic palette.

“Uh, I didn’t know Jimin was the one who picked me up,” you scowl. “Why are you calling me out, Kook? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“What if I don’t want to be?” he teases.

“You must! Or be the neutral one, then!”

“That’s Tae’s job. I’m just here to enjoy the show. It’s never boring with you and Jimin around,” he smiles.

Your face relaxes at this. At least you provide some form of entertainment to your friends, since you can’t really contribute in any other way. Your clumsy ass and inability to develop practical life skills won’t let you. It’s your shared helplessness that has you and Namjoon bonding every trip.

“Why are you so against camping anyway? You literally don’t even have to do anything.”

“Kook, there are four things in this world that make me angry - heat, bugs, Jimin, and uncomfortable sleeping arrangements.”

“You forgot cold food,” Jungkook adds.

“Because hot food is supposed to be eaten hot. Duh.”

“And Mo-eum’s chewing.”

“Because she eats like a child.”

“And Tae’s headlock.”

“Dude can choke me with those arms,” you exclaim.

“Text that’s not justified also drives you nuts. And indented paragraphs. And non-use of the Oxford comma. And Gill Sans. And—”

“Yah!” You exclaim, smacking his chest with the back of your hand.

He responds with the kind of laugh that Jungkook reserves for your group of friends - squinted eyes, scrunched nose, wide open mouth, and bouncing shoulders. With a 10-year friendship under your belts, you know this is him teasing. And genuinely enjoying it.

“You’re having too much fun making fun of me, huh,” you frown.

He settles into a smile - the cheeky yet comforting one that you’ve gotten used to over the years.

“___, I coached the high school swim team all afternoon. You know how intense those matches get,” he groans. “Getting on your nerves and then telling all our friends about it is my chosen relief for tonight.”

“You make me sound like I whine a lot,” you pout.

His pursed lips tell you that you actually do, and you smack his arm this time and whine some more.

“I was just making the point that many things, in fact, make you angry. Not just four,” he corrects.

“This is why I’m single,” you sigh, sinking into your seat. “And why I forever will be.”

Jungkook turns to you and your faraway eyes tell him you’ve fallen into that corner of your mind again that always drowns in thoughts. He doesn’t know how you went from thinking of what makes you angry to believing you’ll forever be single but that’s how conversations with you go all the time.

Your mind goes from one realm to another.

And you ramble. A lot. A moment of being lost in your own mind is immediately followed by a period of vocal self-reflection and bouts of existential crisis, which is odd for a person who seems to be so sure of herself and what she stands for.

But that’s how you are. You could go 30 minutes straight just talking about one of the research projects you’re working on without breathing. One time, Hoseok asked you about what was going on with the women’s protests and you ended up presenting a whole ass thesis about social movements, complete with some conceptual framework and other things Jungkook didn’t understand.

And while your friends looked at you in bewilderment - except for Namjoon, who probably had read that same piece of work and was giving side comments during your impromptu lecture - Jungkook applauded you internally. You were very passionate about it. And you clearly knew your shit.

When he met you during your first year of university after Jimin, his best friend from middle school, brought you and your best friend Mo-eum to dinner, Jungkook thought your rambling was typical of a political science major who just had too much to say. He later on realised that you were actually one of those rare types who had such a rich, active mind with the ability to eloquently express all her thoughts. Majority of the time at least, but even if he couldn’t always grasp what you were saying, he knew it was substantial.

And much as he enjoys teasing you about all these quirks you have, it’s also his job as your friend to assure you that you’re doing alright.

You’ve already got your legs folded on the passenger seat and your face distorting with every new thought that crosses your mind, so he nudges you with his elbow.

“Yah, your being single has nothing to do with your grocery list of things that make you mad,” he says. “They’re harmless, okay? Plus, being angry isn’t always a bad thing, right? Like the great Kim Namjoon said - anger is necessary. It’s our history because anger has changed the world. And while you may be angry at all these little things, you and I know it’s that same fire in you that makes you good at what you do. And it’s what makes you a good person and a good friend.”

Your eyes turn to the man next to you, no doubt exhausted from a full day of teaching middle school kids and coaching the high school swim team but breezing through traffic while dealing with your whiny ass.

You’re a words of affirmation type of girl. All your friends know that. But you also know that when they assure you about something, they genuinely mean it.

“True, anger is good sometimes,” you nod and smile.

“I mean, who else would willingly fight their friends’ nasty exes and lay all the receipts to their faces?” Jungkook points out. “And you know already that even if I don’t understand half of the things you say about your research projects, I know enough that your work has changed lives. So good job, ___. Not everyone can do what you do.”

“Hmm, says the Teacher of the Year winner for three years in a row,” you say, wanting to be the supportive friend this time. “You’re helping the students a lot in healthily dealing with the world and you don’t even have to expend your energy on anger.”

“But we’re both still changing lives, aren’t we?” He asks you.

“We are. God, how did we even get to talking about this?” You laugh.

“It was Namjoon and his great speech,” Jungkook chuckles. “Imagine if he was a poet or a songwriter or something.”

“Well, his grandparents decided that his pen game would be beneficial for a future political career and who knows? Speech writer one day, assemblyman the next? Maybe then he’d help us dismantle the patriarchy and make this place safer for women,” you start. “Because actually, men’s role in addressing gender inequality is so understated and—”

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s and both of yours are saying the same thing - here you go again. You both laugh in understanding and you shake your head in submission, stating that you just want to chill and won’t go into one of your rants this time.

It does give Jungkook an opening to tease you about another thing, though.

“Speaking of Namjoon, I still think you two would’ve made a good couple.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna cook the food? Slice the fruits? Change the frikkin lightbulb? Repair whatever breaks in the house?”

The thought of how helpless you and Namjoon would be cracks Jungkook up.

“True. Clumsy people can’t be together if we want world peace,” he hums. “He’s proof that God is fair. He saw the brain and dimples and thought, yeap let me mould him into a klutz.”

“And you are not wrong,” you laugh. “Plus, we’ve known each other for a decade. How does one decide to just… date their friend?”

“That kind of normally happens, ___,” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “That’s literally how Seokjin and Hayoung got together. Met at college, became good friends, and then boom, went to a concert together then realised they like each other. And now they’re engaged.”

The thought brings a smile to your face. Thinking about your cousin’s love story with the most handsome and thoughtful man you’ve ever met gives you hope. You’re glad you entered the same university two years later than she did, in time for you to witness that friendship blossom into something more. And of course, to meet her other equally awesome friends.

You’re just not quite sure if that kind of thing is for everyone. Your two former relationships had been whirlwind romances, but the flame died as quickly as it sparked. You keep a small group of friends and none of the men, including the one next to you, had ever been a prospect.

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone rings.

“Gyu-rim and I are at the supermarket right now,” Yoongi says, straight to the point as always. “We’re buying all our food already. Can you pass by the one nearest Seokjin’s house so we can put some of the drinks in Jungkook’s cooler?”

“Got that, uncle,” you reply, with the man no longer reacting to your term of endearment for him. “Can you get me a whole pack of sour gummy worms please? Thank you!”

You drop the call and instruct Jungkook to turn the corner. You meet Yoongi and Gyu-rim, who haul half of the groceries in the trunk. You place your pack of gummies in your bag, but you catch Jungkook eyeing it, so you ask him if he wants to nibble on something or if he’s hungry.

“I’ve got red bean bread with me,” you say. “Do you want some?”

“We’ve got a long drive so might as well,” he says. “I didn’t really get to eat during lunch because the kids were too nervous to eat and I didn’t want to show them that I still had an appetite.”

“I’m sure Seokjin and Tae’s parents prepared something for us like they always do,” you say.

There’s a reason why their house is your meeting point before every trip. Other than it being your hangout spot throughout your university years, their family also always serves a lot of food when you’re all around.

You offer Jungkook your container of the bread and he picks up two, devouring them immediately before eating another one in two bites. You grab his water jug from the backseat and hand it over to him. Just as he finishes, you enter the village and arrive at the house.

You pinch and pull his cheek as you often do to express your thanks, and you get out of the car before he pinches you in return.

You enter the living room and the scene before you is one you’ve seen hundreds of times over the past 10 years.

There’s Jimin being dramatic over losing in Mario Kart, Mo-eum being happy just placing higher than him, Hoseok laughing hysterically even if he’s second, and Seokjin cheering for himself as the winner like always. Hayoung and Suhyeon are busy chatting, Yoongi and Namjoon are munching on something while trying to convince Gyu-rim that it’s still possible to find a decent man in their thirties, and Taehyung is at the center, singing opera just because.

But once they see you, they stop what they’re doing, accept the hug you always give them, and ask you how you are. Even the not-so-affectionate ones have learned to give in. It’s the perk of being everyone’s baby, you think.

Being the youngest of five kids and with large age gaps with your siblings, it was natural for you to seek and receive affection from your friends, just as it was natural for them to take care of you. That’s mostly because you’re clumsy and clueless about many things, and you’re used to convenience and being looked after.

It’s nothing they’ve ever complained about, and you’re just glad that you found people who genuinely love caring for you.

Taehyung gives you the tightest hug instead of the headlock he greeted you with the last time. You’re still not used to his large arms wrapping around you, but the warmth hasn’t changed. He bulked up for his role in that West End production, and somehow he got even bigger since the last time you saw him, which was four months ago when you went to London to watch his play.

The welcome of Jungkook is a lot less doting than yours. Even if he’s the youngest amongst everyone, they know he doesn’t require the same affection as you do.

In fact, they depend on him more than anyone, and it always amuses you how, despite being the baby of his family as well, he developed life skills that allow him to naturally figure things out. Perhaps it’s his being a teacher but he’s always been like this since you met him - an all-rounder who seems to know what to do in every situation.

It’s not long after when Yoongi suggests you should all get going. It’s a two-hour drive to Chungbuk, after all, and it’s predicted to rain on your way there.

You get in Jungkook’s SUV with Jimin and Mo-eum while the older ones get in two other cars. Taehyung delivers a bag of food to the others before he takes the seat behind you. He hands you a roll of gimbap that his mother had made, and you pop pieces in your mouth while holding the container out for Jungkook to eat while he drives.

Despite the long day and each one of you having full time jobs, the ride is still filled with banter and karaoke sessions. Taehyung has to referee when you and Mo-eum butt heads with Jungkook and Jimin, as the boys always like to tease and push your buttons.

All that is temporary though, as at the end of the day, you stick to each other like glue. The five of you always opt to sleep together in one room or one suite and in this case, one cabin, even if you have to make adjustments with the sleeping arrangements.

“So…” Jungkook starts, his eyes darting from one end of the cabin to the other. “Us boys are definitely not gonna fit in that.”

The bed by the window is the larger of the two, but it’s still too small for the three of them, not with their build and ways of sleeping. It’s a situation you’ve had before, so you go with your backup combination.

“Jimin can sleep with me and Mo-eum,” you state. “Kook, you and Tae can take the loft bed.”

“Sure, that works,” Jungkook nods.

He looks around and appreciates the coziness of your lodging for the weekend. It’s definitely fancier than a tent, but it also just houses the basic necessities. There’s a small table right by the door with three stools and a small kitchen counter and refrigerator across from it. The bathroom is surprisingly spacious though, and he can already guess that’s one reason why you chose this property. He forgot to point out earlier that small bathrooms also drive you nuts.

Next to you, Jimin groans and warns that if you hit him in your sleep again like you’d done before, he’s gonna push you in the river. You can only smile innocently, as not hurting him is a promise you’re unsure you’ll be able to keep.

After that’s settled, you meet up with the rest of your friends outside. The seven of them have split up in two other cabins - Seokjin and Hayoung with the girls in one, and the rest of the boys in another. They’ve also just put away their things and it’s time to get dinner going.

Everyone gets to their tasks like clockwork - some are organising all the groceries in the cupboards, some are chopping up ingredients, and some are building the fire. You, Namjoon, and Taehyung - the designated cleaners - decide you’ll at least try to be useful and start assembling the camping chairs.

You surprisingly find it quite therapeutic. Between the scent of rain that just stopped and the sounds of nature, there’s something that feels so healing about doing all this with your friends.

Sure, it’s smoky. The ground is a tad bit soft from the downpour earlier, too. And the bugs are having a party everywhere, causing you to shriek every time one of them gets near you.

But there’s chatter and laughter and anticipation. There’s this calmness despite the chaos, and it’s all this that you’ve missed this past year.

Driving out of town to get away during school breaks was a thing you all did during your university days. When the five of you finally graduated and joined the rest of your friends in full-time adulting, the trips became less. Post-work drinks and weekend hangouts were frequent, but it was difficult to align everyone’s schedules for something that was more than a day.

Taehyung was the one who made sure they still happened somehow, even if it was every couple of months. It’s the first time you’re all complete after a year and a half, and the last trip you had was before he flew out.

Having this again after so long feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. It’s as if you don’t feel like you have to carry all your burdens on your own. And seeing your friends’ smiling faces despite their respective high-stress jobs, you know they feel the same way, too.

Your sentimental thoughts are disturbed by Jimin yelling for someone to get something before he disappears into your cabin. You still follow him inside to find out what he needs, learning then that he’s back in the bathroom for the second time since you arrived.

“What does he want?” You ask Jungkook, who stands by the tiny kitchen.

“I asked Jimin to get me gochujang from the guys but he, well… he’s got some business to do,” he laughs. “Can you get it for me, please?”

You nod in response then tease your best friend about not clogging the toilet before you get the condiment from the resident cooks outside. You return to the cabin and watch Jungkook skillfully mix a bunch of things in a pot.

“What’s that for?” You ask next to him.

“We’ll fry chicken later for dinner number two and this is the sauce,” he answers.

“Oh,” you nod. “It smells good. And spicy.”

He sees your slightly nervous face then reassures you that he’ll set aside some for you and Taehyung before adding more chili, knowing your low tolerance for heat. You smile in response, and wanting to know if it’s manageable for you, Jungkook scoops some for you to try.

You take the teaspoon he hands out and taste it. You let it linger before deciding it’s something you can definitely eat.

“Does it need anything else?” He asks.

“Uh,” you trail, your eyes darting from him to the sauce, clearly clueless if there’s more he needs to add, but you act like you’re trying to figure it out.

He tastes it himself.

“Sugar,” he states, then looks at you with a slight smirk. “That’s what you were gonna say, right?”

“Totally,” you lie, but he sees right through you and laughs.

It’s a Jungkook thing, you think - to tease and be a bit cheeky but never overdoing it.

He sets aside a mound of sauce in a bowl before adding more chili powder in the pot that the rest of them will have. He chills them all then says he’ll help prep the rest of the chicken outside and you follow him out. It’s the same time that Jimin opens the door and you fake gag to his face before asking him if he’s okay.

“My tummy’s been a bit weird since this morning,” he groans.

“Take something before it gets worse,” you advise. “Ask Mo-eum. Surely the paramedic would know what to give you, right?”

He nods, and you already feel bad for him with this rough start to the weekend. But you stay with Jimin the whole night. He hates having to skip on the pajeon and chicken because they’re too oily, but you give him half your share of the kimchi stew to make up for it. You also know it’s his favorite.

You serve him water whenever he runs out, and even if he was told to pass up on alcohol tonight, you let him take sips of your beer just so he doesn’t completely miss out. You wrap a blanket around him so he doesn’t get too cold, and he sweetly smiles at you and comments how nice you are to him.

“It’s my apology in advance in case I unconsciously hurt you later,” you sweetly smile back.

Everyone laughs, knowing that’s not far from happening.

The night goes on with the bright stars in the sky and the crackling of the fire pit while you all take turns washing up.

It’s close to midnight when you’ve finally settled in bed, with Jimin laying in between you and Mo-eum. You lost rock-paper-scissors so you’re on the outer side of the bed, even if you argue that you’re more likely to fall off it because you definitely cannot stay in one position when you sleep.

But you’re required to honor the results of the game so you stay on your side, your left arm and leg wrapped around Jimin’s side. Despite the possibility of you pulling him along if you do fall, your best friend lets you; he knows you can’t sleep without hugging something.

Mo-eum lays fetus-curled on Jimin’s right, and both of you have your eyes on his screen as he goes through TikToks that have you three in controlled giggles. You shush them when Jimin snorts, as he sends one of the videos to your group chat. Just then, you hear Jungkook control his laughter from the loft bed, too, prompting you all to laugh even harder.

“Go to bed, you weirdos,” he groans, trying his best to just get to sleep.

“You’re just jealous you’re missing out on the fun down here,” you tease, turning around to stick your tongue at him.

He shakes his head at you.

“Yup, talk about fun when you can’t get your ass off the bed in a few hours,” he counters, making a face before lying back down.

Jungkook starts to do breathing exercises, following the rhythm of Taehyung’s soft snores next to him. It works, as the next thing Jungkook remembers is waking up to his alarm at 5 in the morning.

He nudges the man next to him then heads down the ladder to wash up before your morning activity.

He’s caught in surprise when he finds Jimin sitting on the stool, holding a bottle of Soju on his nose.

“What the heck happened to you?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin groans and turns towards the bed with angry eyes.

“She did.”

Jungkook chuckles because much as he expected this, it’s still funny when it happens.

“Was it her fist or her elbow?”

“Her elbow,” Jimin sighs. “That woman doesn’t even exercise. I don’t know where her strength comes from! Ugh, I should’ve made her sleep in the loft with you instead.”

“And be the one to get smacked on the face? No, thanks.”

“Your nose can handle it,” Jimin teases.

The younger man bends his arm to fake slap his friend who’s nursing a possibly bruised nose. But that’s one of the things Jungkook is thankful for - not being your go-to bed mate, which saves him from any possible injury to his face or any other part of his body. You’ve claimed many of your friends already, and he still doesn’t know how you’re able to do all that in your sleep.

Seokjin and Hoseok enter your cabin to yell that there’s 10 minutes left until you all have to leave for the hike to the nearby mountain in time for the sunrise. You’re the last one off the bed because you were in such deep sleep that it feels like you’re still dreaming.

You’re oblivious to the damage you caused, as you half-mindedly do your morning routine and dress up appropriately for this chilly morning. It’s when you notice Jimin’s slightly red nose and his angry eyes that you realise you might’ve unknowingly done something last night, and his growl when you ask him if he’s okay is your confirmation of that fact.

You try to make it up to him with hugs and a reminder that you’d taken care of him last night but he’s still sore and you’re still sorry.

He dramatically narrates what happened on your way to the mountain, and while most of your friends are laughing because it’s just an insane yet predictable thing to happen, you actually feel bad for him.

Jimin pretends to not care about you during the hike. He stays ahead of the pack instead of walking side-by-side with you because he knows that things like this bore you and you need him to feel entertained.

But not today, as you see him laughing about with Gyu-rim and Suhyeon while you’re stuck at the back of the pack with Yoongi who’s still half asleep and Mo-eum who’s so lost in her surroundings that she barely notices you, even when you trip on stones or shriek because of the bugs.

You groan to yourself.

You love sunrises and pretty skies. You’re just not particularly fond of the early wake up call and long walks you have to make to see them at their best.

Plus, you’re sweating. And because of the energy you’re exerting, you’re starting to feel hot, too. You take a deep breath and try to rein in all your negative aura so you could release them because being annoyed is not how you want to spend this beautiful morning.

You exhale all that and it comes out as another groan.

“I didn’t know you hated hiking that bad,” a teasing voice calls you out. “You could just stay here and wait for us to come back down. That’s an option.”

“Hey, that’s mean,” you pout and try to give your best puppy eyes to the man who’s now leveled himself with you.

“Of course I’m kidding,” Jungkook shakes his head.

He pulls your wrist to continue on the walk, and that’s when you realise that everyone else has gone ahead. And just as your eyes widen in shock that they had indeed left you behind, Jungkook gets to it first and explains that the back group was waiting for you but he insisted that they go ahead so as not to miss the sunrise in case you opt to not continue.

“No one leaves anyone behind, you know that,” he says. “And for the record, Jimin was the one asking if you were okay and then ordered me to check on you and make sure you get to the top on time. So yes, he’s worried even if he’s still upset that you elbowed his nose. Especially since Joon accidentally hit it with his backpack.”

You stop yourself from laughing because Jimin just really can’t catch a break, but you also truly feel bad for him that he has to suffer in more ways than he deserves.

“Fine. Drag me up this mountain, then. My legs will give up soon,” you grunt.

“Stay upright for me, yeah? I don’t really plan on carrying your ass all the way up there,” he chuckles.

You make a face and he just laughs again, then proceeds to take the bag off your back and swings it over his shoulder.

You make it to the top in time, just before the sun begins its slow ascent up the sky. It’s much cooler at the peak and the thick fog covers the quaint town below. It’s much more peaceful here, too, and you embrace the tranquility alongside your friends, as the view has left everyone speechless. You snap some photos - enough to remind you of the moment - and then settle on a rock to watch the sky change its colors.

“So pretty, isn’t it?” Hayoung sighs in awe as she sits next to you. “Just like the ones our grandparents would drive us to see.”

“I’m sure they’re enjoying this from up there,” you smile in response, recalling your summers in their home with the rest of your cousins, when life was simpler and you didn’t have responsibilities that weighed you down.

Once the sun has found its place above the clouds, you all gather on a flat area of the mountain and get your portions of the rice cake soup that Seokjin and Yoongi prepared this morning. Coffee is passed around and Jimin is the one who hands you your cup. He sits next to you and shows you your work of art on his face, and you both decide that having Mo-eum’s curled body in between is the best option on your last night. She fortunately agrees.

It’s close to 8AM when you get back to the cabins, as all of you took much longer on the hike down. It’s an hour of hanging outside and by the river before you’re all driving out into town for some lunch. The nearby market had you buying fruits and clams for tonight’s dinner while your ATV ride in the afternoon had you squealing in both excitement and fear.

It was your first time driving on your own, and after Jungkook had taught you which buttons to press, he drove away at maximum speed. Much as you nag him for his risky tendencies when it comes to things like this, you’ll admit it was refreshing hearing him scream in exhilaration.

All your friends like to have fun and that includes you. It’s why you go on trips like this - to try new things and get your heart racing, maybe live on the edge a little and sustain that passion for life that you all promised each other you’d find and live out outside of your respective careers that you put your whole selves into.

Adulting, you’ve learned, is about maintaining that part of yourself that still finds joy in changing seasons and pink-colored skies. It’s about carrying out your responsibilities while parking them on the side for a weekend over good food and bottles of beer. It’s about planning for the next 10 years while living in the moment. It’s not easy, but perhaps you’re able to do it because you all have each other.

And so watching Namjoon’s tense face relax in enjoyment, seeing a timid Suhyeon let go a little, and hearing Seokjin and Hayoung giggle in their shared ride are things that give you energy, because you know they’re enjoying this moment right here with you.

You finish right before sunset and return to your accommodation exhausted yet still somehow refreshed. There’s less to do now, as much of your dinner is grilled meat and seafood, so Jungkook suggests watching Halloween on the outdoor projector. It’s one of the features of the property that you were excited about, but you didn’t really consider a slasher movie for your last night in the forest.

No one else seems to do so aside from Jungkook, who insists that it’s all part of the fun. While a part of you thinks this is a stupid idea, you also don’t know what else could be more perfect than a thriller film in this environment. So you support him and it’s not long after when you find yourselves in front of the screen, with plates of meat and clams, bowls of rice, and cups of ramyeon around you.

There were definitely jump scares and men and women alike shrieking, either because of the movie or some sound from the woods. Seokjin dropped his can of beer more than once, and Hoseok gave up midway and hid behind Namjoon for the rest of the movie. You were seated next to Jimin on the outdoor couch and yelled in his ear several times that he banned you from being close to him for the rest of the night.

It’s how you found yourself next to Jungkook on the picnic bench where he was so unbothered while you cussed out every time you were surprised, either because of the movie or because of him. Which was many times.

Your heart is pumping by the end of it but you admit it was still fun. It’s the kind of stress you don’t mind feeling every once in a while.

It seems that everyone else felt the same, as the reactions and string of curses somehow made up for the unexpected horror of the night. Naturally, you all gather towards the fire pit.

The air is chilly and despite the tension from earlier, everyone seems relaxed and at peace. Conversations go from Seokjin and Hayoung��s wedding plans, to Taehyung’s audition clip that he sent for a Broadway production in New York, to Jimin’s recent blind date. The latter topic leads to Gyu-rim stating how hard it is to date in her thirties, an exchange she was having just a day ago.

“You literally just turned 30,” Yoongi nudges her knee. “You have a decade to go before you can be sure it’s really that difficult.”

“Well, I don’t have that many options to start with,” she counters. “You’re my only friends. People at work are shit. And my mom’s friends’ sons are either too young or too old.”

“Don’t you have that cute neighbor?” Mo-eum asks. “Or what about the owner of your favorite cafe? Doesn’t he leave little smiley faces on your cup every morning? Or the guy from the gym!”

“Well, the cute neighbor orders so much beer and chicken, it might be an obsession. And the cafe owner might just be flirting with all his female customers with doodles, who knows? And gym dude with nice hair talks to his mom all the time. That’s not exactly a green flag.”

“Now you’re just projecting,” Namjoon states. “You’re calling out red or yellow flags that might not actually mean anything, and you’re only doing that because–”

“I dated someone with a weird food habit, liked someone who turned out to be a serial cheater, and got dumped because this guy’s mom told him to,” Gyu-rim finishes. “In short, you never really know something’s wrong until it goes wrong, and when it does, it sucks like hell.”

“That’s why you get to know someone,” Yoongi says. “You date and then learn things about them and then break up if you don’t like what you see. You know they’re the one when you like them despite it all.”

“It’s just too much effort,” your older friend sighs. “And yes, I know that’s what relationships are supposed to be about but like, I want to work on communication and learning how to understand someone… not accepting some ick or skeletons in the closet type of shit. Those are things I want to know before I decide I’d like to date them.”

“Well, I guess it’s hard when there’s no one to vouch for them,” Suhyeon chimes in. “I mean, we knew Seokjin’s a good guy because we’ve known him for years. It wasn’t hard for either him nor Hayoung to make that decision about dating. Maybe that’s what makes it hard at this age and our prospects are people we barely know anything about. You’re kinda going into it blindly.”

Her words feel like a slap on the face to you, something Suhyeon is totally unaware of because these are the questions you’ve been having about your own past relationships that just live in your mind.

Your exes have been people you dated shortly after meeting them. The attraction was immediate and when two people gravitate towards each other that intensely so soon, it usually means something really special. Somehow you thought that feelings that strong and that certain meant you could overlook the flaws and imperfections of the other person.

Both times you were wrong. And while you’re glad you got out before you got in too deep, both times you still wondered if it would’ve worked out if you just held on a little longer, or if it would’ve even started had you known fully what you were getting into.

But the unknown excites you, at least when it comes to relationships. It’s kind of like research - you learn a bit about the person, make a hypothesis, then test it. You could be totally off mark or very close to it. Still, the process is always different. It keeps you on your toes because you don’t know what to expect even if, ironically, you already had an idea of what you wanted out of it in the beginning.

Perhaps that was your undoing - focusing on the high, anticipating the excitement of being right, then copping out when it wasn’t what you expected.

It’s not something you’ll say out loud though, at least not right now.

So you stay comfortable in your seat with a jacket over your tired body. You listen to your elders with two years more experience hash out what went wrong in their past relationships, and if they think they’ll end up settling for someone they know or are comfortable with, just for the sake of having a companion in this life.

It gives Jimin the opportunity to pitch to Yoongi and Gyu-rim this “40 and still single” pact, where they should just date if they don’t have anyone by that age, but both of them just look at him incredulously and shake their heads.

For some reason, your best friend is an advocate of friends-to-lovers type of stories even if he goes on blind dates all the time. He’s said he believes in it for other people but not really for himself. You share a mind like that - intense feelings from the onset are genuine and unmistakable. Sometimes you meet someone and immediately just know. You may have been wrong both times but it doesn’t mean you’ll always be wrong.

Who knows? Your future husband might be on a camping trip in some lakeside area not far from here, and you meet him in a chance encounter and things pick up from there. Suddenly the thought excites you again, but it’s something you keep to yourself.

You all make a toast to your existent and non-existing love lives. It’s enough to keep the energy hopeful until you all decide to retire for the night.

You lay in bed with thoughts suspended in your mind, just like the stars spread across the sky. Your eyes wander to their twinkling lights as you stare out the skylight.

That is, until you hear a voice whispering your name. You look upward, towards the left, and there’s Jungkook and his head peeking from the loft bed’s railing.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks.

You shake your head in response.

“Got any tips?” You ask, the tiredness hitting you once again.

“Tense your muscles and then relax them slowly. Do your 4-7-8,” he instructs. “Works like magic.”

“You’re just tricking me into making weird faces,” you frown.

“You do that even without me saying it, ___,” he chuckles. “Just try. You’re thinking too hard, I can almost see the thought bubbles appearing over your head.”

You roll your eyes this time but you follow his advice. You feel your muscles loosen and that does something to your brain, as if it, too, is relaxing on its own. And it works.

The next thing you know, your eyes are opening to the sun’s bright light, and there’s those same doe-eyes from last night, somehow content because maybe even he can see it - you had a really good sleep.

You wait for your mind to fully wake up while you curl under the covers. Mo-eum’s in the same position as she was last night and Jimin seems to be peaceful and unhurt. That appeases you at least. Up in the loft, you can see Taehyung already taking up the empty space next to him.

The bathroom door opens and Jungkook exits with his hair sprout bouncing as he walks, prompting you to giggle.

“What’s funny?” He asks with furrowed brows.

“You look like a baby with your hair,” you say.

“It won’t go down,” he groans, attempting once more to flatten the top of his head.

“Just tie the whole thing then. At least it’ll be intentional.”

“Yeah, so you can make fun of me some more?”

“Maybe,” you playfully shrug.

He walks towards you and flicks your forehead, and you try to kick him without disturbing the two people still asleep next to you. But Jungkook, like the athlete that he is, manages to grab your foot wrapped in your blanket before it hits him, and now you’re his hostage.

You glare at him - half pleading and half threatening - but he just makes a face at you. His grip on your heel is a little hard but it seems like it’s what you need, as the hike from yesterday morning has your leg and feet feeling a little sore.

“Hmm, Kook. Massage it please,” you moan, pushing your limb towards him.

“Only if you massage mine.”

“But I don’t wanna touch your toe socks,” you whine.

“Hey. Don’t be mean to them,” he frowns, eventually giving in as he starts massaging your calf.

“It’s just funny. That’s what my nephew wears. And he’s four,” you giggle.

“Toe socks know no age, you brat,” he says. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Your chuckle turns to another groan at the expert way he kneads your muscles. You could easily fall asleep with this, but just when you think you’re about to, Jungkook pinches your leg and you cover your mouth before you yell out your expletives.

He giggles in that child-like way he does when he teases, and all you could do is glare at him. But he makes it up to you with another minute of massaging, and you softly smile at him in thanks.

“So, no incidents last night?” He asks, gesturing towards your bedmates.

“None, although I think Jimin went to the bathroom again in the middle of the night,” you respond, raising your arm for Jungkook to pull so you could get the energy to get out of bed.

“Poor guy,” he shakes his head. “Goes on a trip only to get hit in the nose and get a stomach bug.”’

You shake your head at the absurdity of things but then again, if there’s anyone who’d roll with the punches and even laugh at his own misery, it’s Jimin. That’s always been the kind of optimism and easygoing energy you need in your life.

You and Jungkook head outside to make coffee. You’re one of the first ones awake even if you were both probably the last ones to fall asleep last night. It’s your last day here and you want to savor as much of the air and the tranquility as much as possible.

You sit next to him on the picnic bench and watch him pour hot water over the filter for the drip coffee, alternating between your cup and his. The scent is relaxing, so is the cool breeze. You shift your body to be parallel to the seat, and with your head on his shoulder, you stretch your legs and arms out to try to get a bit of sun.

“Wow, you got yourself a coffee maker and a makeshift lounge chair,” he huffs. “Let’s not forget a driver.”

“I’m photosynthesizing. You always tell me to get my vitamin D,” you explain. “And also, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll treat you to a really nice meal, I promise.”

“Why, what else do you need?”

“A ride to this event I need to attend in Cheonan. On Saturday. Please?”

You turn to him with your best attempt at puppy eyes.

“My car won’t be ready for another two weeks and I don’t wanna stress over how to get there since, uh, since I’m a panelist for a session. And it’s my first time to speak to a large audience about my research and I’m starting to freak about it and–”

“What! ___, of course I’ll drive you! That’s huge!” Jungkook exclaims.

You don’t miss his proud smile and the excitement in his eyes, and it somehow makes it all so real.

“Why aren’t we celebrating that this weekend, then?” He asks. “I wouldn’t have risked you getting attacked by bugs during the hike had I known.”

“Because I’m so nervous and talking about it makes me even more nervous,” you explained. “Mo-eum convinced me to not think about it this weekend because I’ve been stressing about it like crazy so I’ve just been trying to keep my mind off it to calm myself down.”

“And is it working?”

“Surprisingly, it has,” you nod. “I’ve had my talking points ready for a month now. I’ve been practicing for weeks. I had to be intentional in really switching off this weekend and it’s helped. It only entered my mind because the warehouse messaged me earlier about my car needing another few days in there so I’ve just been thinking about how to get to the venue after my field work in the morning.”

“Sure. I was just gonna stay at home and play games but a drive south isn’t bad,” he says. “I can stay around and drive you back home, too.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, relieved at not having to worry about your commute at night.

“Yeah. I mean, you did mention a really nice meal, so…”

“I did,” you laugh. “My session’s in the afternoon and I won’t stay long after. We can grab dinner on the way back.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Thanks, Kook. I would’ve asked Jimin but he’s got an important shoot and Mo-eum’s on duty,” you reason.

“Being a third option isn’t bad,” he chuckles. “So if you’ve been successful in keeping your mind off it, does it mean that’s not why you were so quiet last night? You barely spoke after the movie.”

“You mean when we were talking about failed relationships and possibly being single for the rest of our lives?” You laugh dryly.

“Well, it’s what twenty and thirty-somethings worry about. You were rambling about that in the car the other night,” he reminds you.

“True. Let’s just say when I’m around more experienced and mature people, I prefer to just listen and reflect,” you say.

“And what did you reflect on?”

“Just things I’ve already thought of before,” you shrug, somewhat ready to verbalize them now. “I get intense and excited when I have a new relationship and I overthink but at the same time, I don’t think at all. It’s nice and fun then I see something I don’t like then I just… get out of it. I think what got to me was what Suhyeon said about going into it blindly,” you continue.

“Like, we enter a relationship with someone we’re interested in because we want to get to know them but we don’t know if we’ll actually like the person we’ll get to know. Kind of tricky, right? I mean, do we date to get to know them, or do we date them because we already know them?”

“Does it even matter?” Jungkook asks. “We have to make the decision to stay if we want it enough either way.”

“Even if we don’t like certain things about them?”

“Depends on what you can tolerate. Or what you think you deserve,” he replies, his tone a little weary at the memories rushing in. “We don’t really know anyone well enough. A friend or a colleague or whatever becomes a different version of themselves when they become your lover and you have to deal with that, and then stick around or walk away.”

Jungkook’s face falls and you apologize for bringing it up, knowing it’s quite a touchy subject.

“We’ve talked about this before. It’s nothing new,” he assures you. “You don’t have to feel sorry. Joo-yun went from pursuing me one day to deciding she didn’t want me in her life the next, and then imposing some shitty deadline. And Si-an, well, you know how that went.”

You and Jungkook don’t have deep conversations that often. You tend to reserve your deepest thoughts and feelings for your best friends and he was never really the type to talk about his. He was with Joo-yun for the most part of university so you spent more time with the other guys. She was also the jealous type so you always found yourself being cautious around Jungkook when she was there.

But you remember when he opened up about the breakup, on the night of your graduation. You all slept over at the Kims’ residence and you, Jungkook, and Jimin stayed up until dawn, just talking about your shared pain over soju and beer.

Joo-yun wanted to go abroad and didn’t want to have a long distance relationship, so she told Jungkook they could only see each other until they graduated, which was three months away. He broke it off right then. It was in the same month when you broke it off with Jeong-su after your nth fight over your busy schedule.

Three years after that, you were saying goodbye to your shared apartment with Mo-eum and starting a new role at the research firm. Everyone was at your place to celebrate. It was when you casually said that you’d broken up with Seungho - the guy who worked at your building and that you pined for two weeks before you asked him out. It was also when Jungkook had drunkenly shared that he broke up with Si-an the night before because he caught her cheating on him. You let him stay over then drove him to his place the next morning. He never really talked about her after that.

Your mind drifts to those years. They feel so far away even if some of the thoughts and feelings from that time still linger. Breakups are never easy but somehow you always manage to get over them quite easily. You suppose it’s the insecurity and self-doubt that follows that you couldn’t really move on from.

“So on both times, did you break up with them because you knew what you deserved?” You ask Jungkook.

“Thinking back, I tolerated them longer than I should have,” he hums. “Joo-yun was a bit controlling at times and I always just justified her tendencies in my head. I think she wanted me to beg her not to leave or to take me with her but I didn’t. And that hurt her pride so she lashed out then I broke it off.”

“I always felt like she dimmed your shine,” you sigh. “You’d turn quiet and not be your bratty, fearless, dumb self. It was kinda sad.”

They’re terms of endearment you always use with the younger guys. Jungkook knows this, and he agrees. He also agrees with your observation because it was true. He couldn’t joke around or have fun around his friends when she was there. She dimmed his light like you said. No one ever really put it into words like that.

“And Si-an was just foolish,” you add. “I have so many other mean words for her so I’ll just shut up.”

So does he so he laughs in response.

“For the record, Jeong-su was too up in his ass and too lazy to make time for you, and Seungho rubbed me the wrong way,” Jungkook says now. “Not acknowledging waitstaff is a red flag to me.”

“I agree,” you smile, knowing that unlike Jimin and Taehyung who always had a field day shitting on your exes - and for good reason - Jungkook isn’t the type to say things like that unless he feels it intensely.

There’s a brief moment of both of you drifting away while sipping your coffee until the cabin door opens. Your three roommates exit and start bringing out fruits and cold cuts for snacks before your morning trip to the lake. Soon enough, the others gather around your table, too, and the somber mood from earlier immediately switches to something more lively and positive.

And you’re glad it does. You’re not used to seeing Jungkook dispirited or looking dejected over a memory and you try to erase that from your mind by taking a good look at him this time.

Donned in his black sweatpants, oversized shirt, and a bucket hat, sometimes you forget he’s a 28-year old man who does teaching for a living, only because anyone could easily mistake him for being one of the students. But that’s his charm, you learned over the years.

There’s something so relatable and wholesome about him. It’s in how he pokes your puffed cheeks full of watermelons and in how he chases a frog that’s hopping towards the other side.

Yet he’s also dependable and possesses this certain level of maturity. It’s in the way he prepared coffee then unfolded the camping chairs for the rest of your friends earlier. He’s pure-hearted even if he’s cheeky and playful, as he now asks you to collect stones with him so you could both make a tower and make a wish for your peace of mind and his students’ win and for the toxins to be removed from Jimin’s body so he could eat properly today.

You let that image of Jungkook linger because seeing your friends happy makes you happy, too. It’s what this trip is about, anyway, regardless of the thoughts that plague your mind.

You take the mid-morning drive to a lake to kayak. It’s the perfect day for it, as the skies are in a stunning shade of blue and the clouds look overwhelmingly soft and pure.

Hoseok and Yoongi, who aren’t fond of the water, sit out. The rest of you play rock-paper-scissors on who gets to ride solo and in pairs.

To Jungkook’s dismay, he ends up getting paired with you.

“We literally had a heartwarming conversation earlier and now you’re acting like your life is cursed because you’re riding a kayak with me,” you scowl at him.

“___, I might as well be rowing alone because you suck at it. And now I have to do it with more weight,” he complains.

“Yah!” You smack his arm. “I’m not that bad.”

“You barely made it past the dock the last time we did this,” he deadpans.

“And that was five years ago. People can always improve, you know?”

He deep sighs and frowns at you to the entertainment of your friends, and while you’re a little nervous of what mishap you’ll cause again, you also can’t wait to get in the water and maybe prove to him that you’re not that clueless about things like this.

Except you might actually just be, because not long after you get on the kayak and start paddling, it slowly tips over until it capsizes.

You panic for a moment but manage to get your head out of the water where you’re met with a frustrated Jungkook and a yell of your name. You’d say sorry if you could but you’re halfway through an apologetic smile and a restrained chuckle over how he looks but the latter wins. And you laugh.

“___, Kook!” Jimin, who was just about to get on his kayak, yells out from the dock. “What happened! Are you both okay?”

You turn around where the staff are telling you to swim back and the captain is requesting another boat.

You look back at Jungkook again with his damp hair and his baby boy pout and you try to hold your laughter in again but you just can’t. He looks so upset that it’s actually adorable. It helps keep your mind off the fact that you’re soaking wet and it feels incredibly uncomfortable.

But he finally cracks a smile and he playfully shakes his head before splashing water on your face with his hand.

“Why are you like this, ___?” He groans, but you can tell he’s not upset anymore, even with the way he pulls you by your life vest as you both swim back to dry land.

“I don’t even know what happened,” you exclaim. “Everything was so fast!”

“Your center of gravity was off,” Yoongi explains, as he stands on the edge, helping you up. “And you paddled right away before being stable and then… yeah. Hoseok caught it on video.”

“What!” You shriek, walking to your older friend, with Jungkook following.

Hoseok shows you the clip and even the man behind you can’t stop laughing. One second you were both there and the next, you just disappeared.

Jungkook feels uncomfortable in places but there’s not much he can do now. He just really wants to get back in the water and paddle out there.

You first insist that you’ll just stay behind. When Jimin encourages you to still go because you’ve been excited about this, you then say you’ll just do the individual one so Jungkook can, too, and he can catch up with the rest of your friends who, from a distance, are still laughing.

But like the good friend that he is, he says it’s fine, and that going together means you’ll both actually get somewhere. You just have to let him take control and do what he says. And sit properly.

So you follow his and the instructor’s orders. You keep yourself seated at the center and align your arms, making sure you have a good grip on the paddle and are following Jungkook’s counts. You know you’re not doing as well as he is but he still tells you that you’re doing fine. He’s good at instructing so you find a good rhythm, and soon enough, you catch up with your friends who tease you endlessly.

“It was still funny even from here,” Seokjin teases. “But are you okay? We know how much you hate being soaked in your clothes.”

“I’m dying inside,” you admit. “But yeah, I’m okay. I think Jungkook’s halfway there.”

“I’m good,” he assures you. “At least we get to see the view from here.”

He points towards his right where the scenery of the sun atop the mountains and against the clear skies is so beautiful. You’re definitely a long way from dry land but you feel so stable. It was definitely worth getting back on the kayak despite fearing another tragedy. Jungkook made sure you were okay and that you got to enjoy this, too.

Jimin takes pictures and you all explore some more. Once you’ve seen enough, you paddle back and your friends watch the video and chuckle in amusement. It’s another one of those that’ll come up in your group chat’s memory and you’ve already accepted that it’ll be a story they’ll share and bring up.

“You two get washed and dry up, okay?” Hayoung says. “They have a shower room here and I’ve got towels in the trunk. You can just buy some clothes at the shop right there.”

You follow your cousin’s advice and find the locker rooms. Mo-eum hands you a pair of shorts and a shirt she got from the store then heads out with you where Jimin offers you a cup of fresh juice. Standing by the car is Jungkook with a pair of shorts and the same crab shirt you’re wearing.

“Why’d they have to get us matching clothes?” He laughs as he enters the driver’s seat.

“They probably think it’s cute,” you shrug, taking your seat in the passenger side. “Or it could be a peace pact, I don’t know. I mean, you were getting angry at me earlier after all.”

“I wasn’t angry,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s like, I expected it but I was still surprised you made us fall over. Like, why does it always happen to you?”

“Well, God is fair. He gave me the brains but said, ‘let's also make her dumb.’”

This causes him to laugh.

Jungkook isn’t the type to voice things out but he truly finds you endearing. Even when you’re being clumsy, or asking him to do stuff, or making fun of him, or complaining about a hundred things at once, there’s something so genuine about you. You can get a little intense about things you’re passionate about, which he admires, but you’re also able to roll with the punches and find joy in things once you’ve calmed down.

He pats your head as his form of affection and you smile at him. He finds that endearing, too.

You all make your way back to the cabin to make some lunch. The resident cooks prepare black bean noodles and marinated ribs while the rest of you start packing up. It’s a breezy afternoon despite the sun, and it’s a perfect last meal in the mountains before you do the last thing on your itinerary.

It’s a short trip but you feel like you’ve done so much. It used to be like this during your university days when you’d just drive out to somewhere, do various things in town, soak up nature, and eat your hearts out. There have been changes, too, like preparing your own meals, no longer getting passed out drunk, and spending time just talking and reminiscing. Your respective jobs and other responsibilities don’t give you much time or space to enjoy being around people, and you’ve always found peace and comfort in each other.

It’s not a long drive to the pier where you’ll go on a yacht cruise. It’s a size that comfortably fits all 12 of you, and it’s a perfect last hurrah, as you all lounge by the deck and enjoy the wind and the changing skies. It’s mostly quiet by now, as everyone’s energy has slightly drained, especially with Monday right around the corner.

But it’s still peaceful, as you take in the fresh air and scent of the lake and the seagulls flying about. You let these last few hours be your reprieve, before another week rolls ahead and that panel discussion becomes your reality in a few days.

You watch until the last of the sun disappears, then it’s back to the car for a trip back home, and a dinner at a restaurant as your pitstop.

With your apartment being a 15-minute drive to Jungkook’s without traffic, he offers to take you home. He carries your bag and walks you to your door like the gentleman that he is and with your droopy eyes, he wishes you goodnight with a pat on your head.

“Get some rest, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist:

@sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @kookxin @petuliii @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @main-bangtansmauyeondan @investedreader @petalsofink @stopeatread @craftymoonchaos @alpacaparkaseok @coletaehyung @boyfriendtaekook @moonchild1 @keshiadeija @nesha227 @src-9 @almatiarau @roseda

Series Taglist:

@lovingkoalaface @amatun28 @mar-lo-pap @whoa-jo @ot7even @m4aimm @spicxbnny @burnahtsw

#jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook fluff #jungkook comfort #fic: something about you

1K notes · View notes

intrikatie · 15 days ago

Text

Make a Wish...

Chan x Reader

🔞Minors DNI

✰ Pairing: Best friend Bang Chan (Chris) x Fem Reader ✰ Genre: SMUT ✰ Info: MxF, oral (f receiving) , unprotected Sex (don't be silly)

Word count: 5725

The morning sun glints off your car’s windshield as you shove the last duffel bag into the trunk with a grunt. Jeongin, crouched beside the cooler like a master strategist, taps his chin and gives a decisive nod.

“Okay, if I shift the camp stove next to the snack box and wedge the bug spray behind the first-aid kit, we might actually be able to shut this thing.”

You laugh, stepping back to admire his handiwork. “You’re surprisingly good at this. Secret past life as a Tetris champion?”

Jeongin grins. “Nah, just used to packing for hyungs who treat weekend trips like exile prep. Speaking of which—” He gestures toward your best friend, Chris, who’s struggling to zip a bulging backpack filled mostly with snacks. “Are you sure you’ve got enough food?”

Chris looks up, affronted. “Hey! I burn a lot of calories, okay?”

“You burn through snacks,” Jeongin mutters. “You’re a black hole in joggers.”

You nod solemnly. The snack worry is real. You’re still not convinced you’ve packed enough to keep him fed and you have a niggling thought that you've forgotten something.

Chris shrugs. “Can’t help it if I’m a growing boy.”

You stifle a laugh, watching him with fond amusement. The cooler groans slightly as Jeongin finally manages to close the trunk with a triumphant, “Ha!”

You high-five him.

“Seriously though,” Jeongin says as Chris pushes his bag into the footwell of the passenger seat, “are you sure you don’t want to go to that glamping site instead? Wi-Fi, electricity, running water… less chance of being eaten by bears.”

“No bears,” you assure him. “Just scenic views, starlit skies, and mosquitos.”

Jeongin smirks. “I still say you should’ve packed Minho. He’s good with knives and can throw up a tarp without swearing through it.”

“Oi! I’m not like Changbin. I will be able to make a tent without cursing."

You nod, deadpan. “Eat. Sleep. Rest. Those are the orders of the weekend. You’re getting away from work and relaxing. I’ll do the knives and swearing.”

Chris throws you a withering look as Jeongin snorts.

“And besides,” you add, “even if I had space for Minho, he and Jisung have tickets to that weird art-house movie downtown tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” Chris grins. “Their date night.”

You raise a brow. “Date night, huh?”

“They’re just going as… friends,” Jeongin adds quickly and wholly unconvincingly.

“Yep,” Chris says. “Friends who just conveniently coordinated outfits and made a dinner reservation.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin giggles.

“Aww,” you pout. “We don’t coordinate our outfits.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but you catch the faintest blush at the tips of his ears.

You open the passenger door and pause as Chris glances toward Jeongin again, eyes softening with a flicker of guilt.

“You gonna be okay by yourself all weekend?”

Jeongin scoffs, waving him off. “Please. I’ve got Seungmin and Felix coming over for Tenken tomorrow, then Hyunjin and Changbin as backup the day after. I’m booked and busy.”

Chris tilts his head. “Booked and streaming, more like.”

“I will have Wi-Fi,” Jeongin declares like a holy right. “And when you come crawling back, mosquito-bitten and humbled by nature, I’ll have a tube of anti-itch cream ready as a welcome home gift.”

You snort. Chris groans.

With a final round of hugs and waves, you and Chris climb in. Jeongin pats the car like he’s blessing a ship for voyage.

Soon, the city falls away behind you, replaced by winding roads and the quiet green hush of the mountains ahead.

The mountain air is crisp—biting in the best way—filling your lungs with the kind of clean that doesn’t exist in cities. It smells of pine and damp earth, of wild things and relaxation. The clearing you’ve found is tucked deep within the woods, cupped by towering evergreens that sway gently above like ancient guardians. Their branches rustle softly, whispering secrets you can’t quite hear.

Beside you, Chris exhales dramatically, the crunch of gravel under his boots the only sound for a moment as he squints at the screen of his phone like it’s betrayed him.

“This is basically the dark ages,” he mutters, dragging the words out like a grumble but layering them in fond sarcasm. “No Wi-Fi. No electricity. Just trees and my impending doom by bug bites.”

You smile, the kind of affection that often sneaks up on you.

“You’re welcome,” you reply, bending to hammer the final tent stake into the soft, forgiving earth. “You’ll thank me after the ramen.”

Chris groans again—louder this time, exaggerated—but there’s laughter under it, the kind that pulls a giggle out of you. When you glance over your shoulder, he’s already watching you. His gaze lingers—steady, unreadable—for a heartbeat too long

Then, like a curtain being drawn too quickly, he shifts. Head ducked, he busies himself with the cooler, rummaging with a sudden urgency that’s too practiced to be accidental.

And still, something sticks. That look.

It lingers in the back of your mind, hazy and half-formed, like the afterimage of a dream you can’t quite remember. You tell yourself not to dwell on it. You’re friends. Really close friends. The kind who know each other’s coffee orders and irrational fears. Who’ve shared too many late-night phone calls and inside jokes to count. There was a time when you thought there was something… more, but risking this… your friendship? You couldn’t do that.

But still… that look…

It’s nothing. Nothing more than a look.

Just a look. With those maddeningly soft eyes. And an annoyingly handsome face.

Dinner is chaos, but the best kind—the kind where smoke curls up from a tiny camp stove and laughter cuts through the cool mountain air. The sizzle of meat on the grill mingles with the bubbling of noodles in a pot that’s seen better days. You’ve both spilled things, overcooked a few pieces, and accidentally dropped a fork into the dirt, but somehow... it’s perfect.

The scent alone is mouth-watering—soy sauce, garlic, a hint of char that clings to everything. You plate it all up messily, chopsticks clacking against enamel bowls as you hand Chris his portion.

He takes one bite and immediately leans back on his elbows with a groan of satisfaction, chewing with his eyes closed like he’s just been handed a Michelin-starred feast.

“This is actually amazing,” he says around a mouthful, voice full of awe and something teasing beneath it. “I take it back. I am thriving in the dark ages.”

You snort, half-proud and half-smug, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

“Told you. Trust the wilderness queen.”

He shoots you a look, one brow arched, eyes glittering with amusement as he slurps up a noodle and points his chopsticks at you.

“Wilderness queen who forgot the marshmallows.”

Ah. That’s what you forgot.

“I packed you,” you counter, grinning. “That should count for something.”

He laughs, a real one, full and warm and unguarded. It rolls out into the clearing like the crackle of firewood, and your chest aches with how much you love that sound.

The stars are starting to appear above you, one by one, blinking into life like someone’s flipping them on by hand. The fire pops gently beside you both, throwing flickers of amber light across Chris’s face. He looks peaceful here—lighter, unburdened. A version of him the city never lets surface.

And for just a second, you let yourself look. Really look.

His lashes catch the firelight. His lips part slightly, lost in thought. There’s something boyish in the tilt of his head, the dimple of his cheek, something tender in the quiet way he exists beside you.

He’s beautiful in this light. Not in the camera-ready way you’re used to seeing him these days, but in the quiet, effortless kind of way that makes your breath hitch.

You blink it away.

The fire has burned low, its embers pulsing gently in the dark like a heartbeat. The sky above stretches vast and velvet, spilling stars in every direction — infinite, unbothered, impossibly beautiful. Out here, without the glare of city lights, the universe feels close enough to touch.

You lie side by side in the grass, shoulders nearly touching. The warmth of Chris’s body beside you is subtle but impossible to ignore. The silence between you isn’t empty—it’s full. Full of breath, and closeness. Just the comfort that is Chris.

Chris’s voice comes soft, laced with something fragile.

“I miss the stars from home,” he murmurs. “Back in Australia, I couldn’t name them, except the Southern Cross, but... they were... familiar. These,” he waves a hand at the sky, “feel like strangers.”

Something about that hits you deeper than expected. Maybe it’s the way he says it. Maybe it’s the quiet homesickness in his voice, or the truth that even skies can feel foreign when your heart is far from home. You glance over. His eyes are skybound, soft and distant, like he’s trying to remember something he can’t quite hold onto. It aches him. And you feel that.

So you shift, just enough that your head nearly brushes his.

“They’re not strangers,” you murmur. “They just speak a different language. My grandfather taught me a lot of them.”

You lift your hand to the sky, finger tracing invisible lines.

“That’s Vega or Jiknyeoseong,” you whisper. “She’s part of Lyra, the harp. My grandfather said she was the Weaver Girl, the one from the old story. She waits across the Milky Way for her love.”

Chris tilts his head toward you, eyes following your hand.

“And over there—that’s Deneb, Gyeonu-seong, the Cowherd. He’s in Cygnus, the Swan. And down here, see that one blinking? That’s Altair, in Aquila. Together, they form the Summer Triangle. It’s the same story in both names—two lovers separated by the river of stars. Allowed to meet just once a year.”

You trace the triangle between them in the sky, slowly, letting the silence wrap around your words.

“He crosses the stars to find her,” you add, voice quieter now. “Every summer.”

Chris doesn’t speak. You feel the stillness of him beside you, the way his gaze lingers follows the shapes you draw with your hand.

“And that one,” you continue, pointing toward the north, “that crooked W? That’s Cassiopeia. A queen. Beautiful, proud. She’s always watching. Sometimes upside down.”

Chris hums beside you, low and thoughtful. “Someone else who struggles to sleep.”

You smile, bittersweet. “She was cursed for her vanity,” you explain, remembering your grandfather’s voice. “The gods put her in the sky as punishment, spinning around the pole forever.”

“Cassiopeia,” Chris murmurs, tracing the constellation with his finger. His voice is soft and low and warm—not unlike the fire beside you.

When you glance over, his eyes are on you. Not the stars.

You freeze under the weight of it—the way his gaze feels like it’s searching for something.

Your pulse flutters.

You look back up to the stars, heart in your throat, and point again—desperate to focus on the sky, not the way his eyes made your skin burn.

“That one’s Hercules—he doesn’t look like much, but he’s there. Strong, quiet. Always watching over the others. I think if you were to have a constellation, that would be yours.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, just shifts slightly, his hand brushing against yours in the grass—whether by accident or intention, you can’t tell. Your pulse skips anyway.

“Your grandfather taught you all that?” he asks, his voice low, reverent.

You nod, your eyes still skyward.

“He said stories help you remember where you are. Even if you’re lost. The stars might move, but they don’t disappear. Not really. You just have to learn to look for them differently.”

Chris turns his head, slowly, deliberately.

“That’s nice.”

His eyes don’t leave you this time. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your skin more than you can see it, like gravity has shifted sideways and you’re falling—not fast, not hard, just… falling.

You clear your throat and look skyward. Just in time to see a streak of light tear across the sky, bright, fast and gone in the blink of an eye.

You gasp, a little squeak escaping your throat before you can stop it. Your hands fly up instinctively, pointing as if trying to catch the tail of the comet with your fingertips.

“Did you see that?!” you breathe, scrunching your nose with wide-eyed wonder. “Chris! Quick! Make a wish!”

He chuckles softly beside you. “That work here too, does it?”

“Wishing on falling stars is universal Chris. Now hurry! Make a wish!”

The fire crackles gently, and the world seems to hold its breath.

But Chris is silent beside you.

You finally glance at him wondering where his thoughts are, but his eyes aren’t on the sky.

They’re on you.

And not in the way friends look at each other. Not in the way Chris usually looks at you, when he's teasing you about forgetting the marshmallows, or arguing over who’s turn it is to buy the coffee. This gaze is quiet and unblinking and full of something you’ve been trying not to name.

Your breath catches.

You forget the stars. Forget the fire. Forget your heartbeat skipping in your chest.

“What’d you wish for?” you ask, barely a whisper.

His eyes flicker, searching yours.

“Can’t say,” he murmurs, lips curving just slightly. “Might not come true.”

But something has already changed in the air between you—like that star didn’t just fall through the sky, but cracked something open with it.

Your breath is still caught somewhere between your ribs when you look away. Back up. Back to the sky that suddenly feels too vast, too far. Your heart is thrumming so loud you’re sure he can hear it.

You try to laugh—something light, something to deflect.

“Guess I’ll make a wish too,” you murmur.

But when you close your eyes, there’s only one thing that comes to mind.

And he’s lying right next to you.

You turn your head, just slightly, and find him still watching you, like he never stopped. His eyes are softer now, gentler than you’ve ever seen them, catching the starlight and the firelight in ways that make your chest ache.

You don’t think.

You just lean in.

It’s instinct more than decision, a quiet shift of breath and courage. A whisper of movement. The briefest brush of your lips to his, soft, warm, and trembling with hesitation.

And then it’s gone.

You pull back fast, eyes wide, breath already shaking out of you.

“Sorry,” you say, too quickly. “Chris, I—I don’t know why I—”

“Hey,” he says, already moving, already chasing the warmth you left behind.

His hand finds your cheek, then the curve of your jaw, then gently tangles into your hair like he’s done it a hundred times before in a dream. You inhale shakily, but he’s already leaning in, forehead nearly touching yours.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He kisses you.

Sure. Slow. No trace of hesitancy.

Like he’s been waiting.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie as his lips mold to yours, tender and deepening by the second. Chris shifts, matching your breath for breath, his lips parting against yours in a way that sends heat flickering low in your belly. One of his hands stays in your hair, gentle but firm, while the other slides down, over your shoulder, along your ribs, until it ghosts your thigh.

You can feel his hesitancy in asking for more. Wanting more. But you are beyond that point.

Your hand slips beneath his hoodie, fingertips grazing bare skin—warm, smooth, taut with muscle. His breath stutters against your mouth, and when your palm flattens over his stomach, he exhales his hand finally, blissfully, tightening on your hip and pulling you closer.

You move with him, swinging a leg over his until you’re straddling him, your knees braced in the grass as Chris rises to meet you, pressing his chest to yours, your kiss deepening as his hands splay across your back.

Your mouths are hungry now, and he grips your thighs pulling you even closer so you can feel the heat of him… the hardness of him.

“Chris,” you murmur against his lips as you rock forward gently.

He gasps against your mouth, biting his bottom lip in a way that is pure sin.

When your fingers curl beneath the hem of his hoodie, he lifts his arms without hesitation, letting you pull it off. His T-shirt follows, fabric brushing over his tousled hair before landing somewhere beside the tent.

And then he’s bare to you—golden in the firelight, shoulders broad, chest sculpted, defined lines rippling softly as he breathes. You take a second to just look.

Every line and curve, all sharp and toned.

And you’re suddenly aware of your own softness—how your skin gives more easily, how your curves feel vulnerable under his hands.

Chris sees it in your eyes.

He pauses. His hands still. And when his gaze rises to meet yours, there’s nothing but warmth there—gentle, careful, sure.

“Okay?” he asks, voice low, eyes searching.

You nod. And then, a little bolder, you pull your shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving you in just your bra and jeans.

His breath catches.

It’s not a sound of disappointment, shock, or surprise—it’s awe. He exhales and his eyes roam over your skin. Fingers tracing the lines drawn with his eyes.

“You’re…” He swallows, and looks right up into your eyes. “You’re beautiful Y/N.”

His hands settle at your lower back, wide and warm, pulling you close as he leans in and presses his mouth to the swell of your breast. Soft at first—gentle kisses over your skin. Then his lips part slightly, mouth trailing warmth as he tastes the curve of you, nuzzling into the softness.

You shiver. Not from cold. Not even from his touch. But the feeling of…being enough.

One of his hands slides up, fingers splaying wide as they explore the line of your spine, up between your shoulder blades and down again. The other curls around your waist, anchoring you to him as he mouths at your skin with growing hunger.

Your fingers thread into his hair, those familiar soft curls, tilting his face just the way you need.

You reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra, the straps slipping down your shoulders, the lace sliding between your bodies as you let it fall away.

He exhales—shaky and stunned, like he’s seeing something sacred. His hands lift, slow and hesitant, like he doesn’t quite believe he’s allowed. When he finally touches you, it’s with a softness that sends shivers through every nerve.

“You’re perfect,” he breathes. Like it’s not just a compliment, but a truth he’s only now allowed to say out loud.

His palms skim the outer curve of your breasts, large hands cradling you as if he's afraid you might disappear. Then he leans in again, mouth open and warm as he presses a kiss over your heart—then to your breast.

When his lips close around your nipple, your breath stutters. His tongue flicks softly, then again, and you feel it everywhere. Your hands tighten in his hair, hips shifting closer, your thighs tightening around his waist as his mouth grows more confident.

His hands stay steady at your back, one slipping lower, tracing the dip of your spine, pulling you gently against him. Your bare skin slides against his chest, and the friction is almost too much but not nearly enough.

He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin, and it makes you arch into him. Your clothed core pressing against his hard length.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmurs, voice gravel-thick. “About you. But I never thought I could…”

“You can,” you whisper.

Chris finds your lips again, lays you down gently on his hoodie that was tossed aside only moments or might have been hours ago.

His hand lingers at your waist, eyes drinking you in as if committing the sight of you to memory. Then he starts fumbling with the button of your jeans, fingers clumsy with urgency.

“Sorry—”

But you’re giggling, he’s so cute. Even like this. Heart racing you reach down to help him, shimmying your hips and wriggling out of them with a graceless little huff.

He watches, transfixed, as you kick the denim free from your ankles, leaving you just in your panties beneath him.

Chris’s gaze flicks down, then back up to your face. He leans in, one hand bracing beside your head, and captures your mouth again.

His kiss is slower now, deeper—less rushed, more sure. His body settles over yours, the weight of him grounding, electrifying. You gasp softly against his lips as his hips dip and his clothed length presses against your centre—just fabric between you, the friction melting and maddening.

He presses down again and this time you both groan. The sound tangled between your mouths. He breaks the kiss just enough to press his forehead to yours, breath ragged, his voice a rasp.

“God, you feel—”

You rock your hips up gently, and his answering grind nearly undoes you. Every nerve is alive, every inch of you aching and alert under his touch.

Chris shudders, one hand gripping your thigh, pulling it around his waist like he needs you closer—like closer still wouldn’t be enough.

Your leg hooked around his waist, his body heavy and perfect above yours. The fabric between you is suddenly unbearable. Every movement rubs you together in maddening friction, your soaked panties clinging, his shorts stretched tight around the hardness pressing against you.

Chris groans again, the sound rougher now, closer to a plea. His hand slides down your side, over your hip, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear. He pauses, lips hovering above yours, eyes searching.

“Can I?”

You nod, your voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a yes.

He smiles softly down at you, his dimple caught in firelight, eyebrow arched, half teasing. “Words baby.”

Something inside you swells at the way he says it.

“Yes. Please.”

He slips his hand beneath the waistband, eyes never leaving yours as he peels the last bit of fabric down your thighs, slow like he’s unwrapping something precious. You lift your hips to help, feeling the night air kiss your bare skin as the panties slide free. They join your jeans somewhere in the dark.

Your hands move next, fingers tugging at the hem of his shorts.

“Your turn,” you murmur.

He bites his lip at the sound, sitting up on his knees just long enough to drag them off, boxers too. The firelight flickers across his skin—bronze and shadowed, all muscle and tension and beauty. He’s bare now, fully, and so are you.

You both just look for a moment.

No teasing. No coyness. Just quiet reverence in the space between your breaths.

Then Chris lowers himself again, this time with nothing between you. Your thighs part easily for him, giving him space to settle fully over you.

Your skin is flushed where his touches yours—his hand cradling your thigh, his mouth trailing slow, open kisses across your collarbone. He’s everywhere, not rushing, just feeling.

And when his length slides against your slick heat, unhurried, teasing, you gasp—arching up, hips chasing his.

“Chris…”

He groans at the sound of his name from your lips, deep and wrecked, and mouths at your throat, his hand tightening on your thigh, trailing his mouth down, down, lips brushing your breast, your ribs, your stomach. His hands map the curves of your waist like they were carved just for him, and then he settles between your thighs with a look that makes your breath catch.

His mouth finds you in a slow, deliberate sweep of his tongue—and your back arches before you even realise you’re moving. Your fingers fly to his hair, tangling deep, anchoring yourself to the feel of him. He groans into you when you tug gently, and the vibration pulses straight through your core.

The sky spins overhead, velvet dark, stars scattered like shattered diamonds. You're distantly aware of it, of the fire's flicker and the cool brush of mountain air on your skin… but none of it matters. Not when his mouth is working you open like this.

He's good—so good. Focused and unrelenting, tongue drawing lazy, devastating circles like he has all the time in the world. Like he wants to know every part of you by heart. He moves with precision, with intention, with devotion, and you're unraveling faster than you ever thought possible.

“Chris—” you gasp, hips lifting, chasing his mouth. “Oh my god—”

He hums again in response, hands pressing to your hips to hold you steady, to keep you right where he wants you. And when his lips close around your clit just so, you make a sound you never knew you were capable of. “Chris—close—!”

And then you’re there.

You cry out—raw and real and loud—because there’s no one around for miles. Nothing to muffle the sounds he’s pulling from your chest. No walls. No neighbors. Just the stars bearing witness as he takes you apart.

No one’s ever made you feel like this.

No one’s ever made you sound like this.

And Chris knows it.

You see it in the way he glances up through his lashes, eyes burning with something primal and softer, all at once.

He doesn’t stop—not until your thighs are shaking, your hands tugging at his curls in disbelief, and your breath is coming in broken little gasps.

When he finally comes up, lips slick and glistening with pride, he kisses the inside of your thigh.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers, voice husky.

Even after you’ve come undone beneath his tongue, even after your hips have settled and your fingers loosen slightly in his hair, he stays nestled between your thighs like he belongs there. Like he never wants to be anywhere else.

His hands caress slowly up your sides, then down again—soothing, grounding, coaxing your body into something softer, more open, even as the tension simmers again, delicious and low.

His lips return to you—softer now, unhurried. He kisses the inside of your knee, the dip of your hip, and then he trails back to your sensitive core.

Then he starts to pull back—maybe to give you space, maybe to speak—but you’re already rising, already reaching. You tug him up with you, mouth crashing into his, all heat and urgency and tangled fingers.

This kiss is no longer sweet.

It’s starving.

Your hands find his jaw, his neck, the sweat-damp curls at his nape. You pour everything into it, everything that’s been building since the moment you caught him watching you out of the corner of his eye.

He groans into your mouth, like he can taste how much you still need him, like the sound is being dragged out of his chest. One of his hands finds your waist, the other your cheek, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss until you’re both gasping between each slow, claiming press of lips and tongue.

“Chris,” you beg.

His eyes are dark and wild and focused entirely on you. “Tell me,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “Tell me what you want.”

You lean in, lips brushing his, the words barely more than a breath.

“I want you.”

“You got me baby.”

You raise your hips, and guide him in.

Your bodies meet in a slow, aching slide that steals your breath, that makes him gasp your name like a prayer half-spoken. He fills you inch by inch, careful, until you’re seated fully in his lap, thighs trembling around his hips.

It’s overwhelming—how full you feel, how right.

He holds perfectly still beneath you, letting you adjust, letting you feel. His hands cradle your lower back drawing soothing circles. You lean in, forehead resting to his, and for a few heartbeats, there’s just that—heat and silence and shared breath and the wonder of him inside you.

He’s so big. Bigger than you imagined. And you had imagined. He might be your best friend but you were never immune to him.

You experimentally roll your hips, just a little.

Chris’s breath catches. His hands tighten. And you move again, slowly, setting the rhythm, deep, unhurried, savouring how he feels inside you. Every pulsing inch of him.

“God, baby,” he groans, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw.

You kiss him again, tongue and teeth, thighs burning. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and Chris understands, cradling your back he manouveres you easily, laying you back on the hoodie, settling over you. He moves slow, achingly slow and so deep. Rolling his hips, his body a warm shield to the cool night air.

Your breath shudders as his hips draw back, just enough, before he sinks into you again. And again and again. Deep. So deep.

His pace is slow, unhurried, but every thrust is measured. Purposeful. Like he already knows every tender spot inside you. Like he has your body mapped out already.

One hand cradles the back of your head, the other sliding down to anchor your thigh around his waist. You arch into him, meeting him thrust for thrust, each one sending sparks spiraling up your spine. And all the while, he’s watching you—his eyes locked on yours.

The stars spin slowly above, distant and eternal, but the only galaxy you care about is the one you’ve found in his eyes.

Your fingers trace the curve of his spine, the sweat-slicked muscles beneath skin that trembles with restraint. You can feel it—how tightly he’s holding himself back. Every shallow breath, every subtle twitch of his hips, every heartbeat pressed to yours.

“Y/N,” it’s a groan. A plea. A prayer.

His lips drag from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck, where he lingers, tongue tasting the salt of your skin, teeth grazing lightly as you shiver beneath him. You wrap your arms around his back, feeling every shift of muscle, every ripple of his control.

His mouth moves lower—across your chest, down your breast, kissing the curve, your nipple, back to your mouth, like he can’t choose where he wants to be.

His fingers stroke along your waist, the curve of your stomach, then upward to cup your breast, his thumb brushing a tight, sensitive peak.

You gasp again, and his rhythm stutters—just for a moment—like he’s feeling it through you, his breath warm against your neck. You can feel it, his restraint thinning. How close he is.

“Chris—”

“Almost there, baby?”

You whimper in reply. Your hands tangle in his curls, tugging gently as you arch into him.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs again. “Come with me.”

And you feel it.

The slow rise of heat blooming outward from where he touches you. The build of pressure that spirals through you like the last inhale before a plunge. You hold onto him tighter. Dig your heels into the backs of his thighs. Feel your body clench around him in anticipation.

“Chris—”

“I’m here,” he breathes. “Let go.”

And you do.

With a cry that tears itself from your throat, you shatter—waves of pleasure rolling through you so powerful they leave you breathless. Your body clenches around him, trembling and slick and warm, and he follows you instantly, thrusting once, twice more before he lets go with a moan against your lips.

He spills into you, deep and pulsing, as the stars spin wildly above.

For a moment, the only sound is your panting, your heartbeats, your bodies trying to remember how to come down.

You blink up at the stars, skin damp, chest heaving, Chris still inside you, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“Still not a fan of camping?” you whisper, dazed and trembling.

He laughs softly against your lips. “I take it all back.” Kissing the tip of your nose. “Every damn word.”

You lay there for a moment, still catching breath between giggles before Chris carefully pulls out of you, kissing you softly as he does. He finds his discarded t-shirt and drapes it over the lower half of you, his arms warm and firm as they curl around your back. He shifts just enough to pull you fully against his chest, skin to skin, his heart a steady drum beneath your cheek.

He kisses the crown of your head once, then again. Softer. Longer. Like he’s pressing every unspoken thing into you—thank you, I’ve wanted this, you matter to me. You look up at him, searching.

His gaze hasn’t changed.

Or maybe… it has.

It’s still full of that familiar fondness—the easy warmth, the safe kind of love he’s always given you. But now it’s something deeper too. Like some dam inside him has finally burst, and all that affection he kept just under the surface is rushing out, flooding you both in the quiet.

You let your fingers brush down his jaw, chasing the softness there.

He smiles, slow and sure, and kisses you again—gentle and grounding, like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. Then you ask it, because you have to.

“What did you wish for?”

Chris leans back just slightly, eyes still glowing with the stars reflected in them. His lips curve, but he doesn’t answer right away. He dips his head, gives you another kiss, this one playful, lingering, before murmuring against your mouth: “Wi-Fi.”

You smack his shoulder with a groan. “Chris.”

But you’re already laughing, the sound bubbling out of you too fast, too giddy, too happy. He’s grinning too, cheeky and proud.

“What about you?” he asks, stroking a length of hair away from your face. “What was your wish?”

“Marshmallows.”

He laughs, against your hair before he catches your face in his hands—thumbs brushing along your jaw—and kisses you again.

This one is slower. Deeper. No rush. Just you and him beneath the stars, your bare bodies tangled in the soft earth and the afterglow of something that’s no longer just tension or friendship or longing.

It’s love, in all its newness and possibility.

The stars still shine above you, ancient and endless, but tonight… they feel different.

Because now they hold stories of you.

Of Chris.

Of this moment.

Of every kiss yet to come.

♡ If you made it this far, thank you so much for your support!

♡ please consider leaving a comment, like or reblog. I love hearing your thoughts!!

390 notes · View notes

planetaryupscaled · 1 year ago

Text

Disenchanted 6

Male Reader x Karina

Tags: 2k, cheating, creampie, cuckold, daddy kink

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

It was well past 2am before Karina and I finished our marathon sex session. The ravishing woman having run out of energy, just letting me lazily pump her cunt with the last of my load for the evening.

It was a surprise that Jaewook was still asleep throughout the ordeal, given the fact that Karina and I really didn’t hold back, I even held her face against his thigh at one point, while railing her from behind, the slaps of flesh distorted by Jaewook’s snores.

I left an exhausted looking Karina to get some much needed sleep, lying face down next to her husband, covering her silky naked form with the sheets before closing the bedroom door behind me. There was an ache in my legs as I slowly descended the wooden stairs. I must have emptied at least five loads inside her that night, my sack was still reeling from the demands I put on it, my cock slowly getting accustomed to not being snugly sheathed within Karina’s tight body.

Opening the doors and slipping into the early morning air sent a ripple of energy spiraling through my senses. My eyes perking up suddenly at the rush of cold wind now billowing all around me as I retired back inside my homely lodge just in time before the heavens opened up with rain coming splashing down on the wooden roof. In many respects, tonight had been more extreme than the Yeonjun, Hajoon affair, it was with her husband, one she shunned for most of the night. Not that Jaewook caught on at first, but I had a feeling he was starting to connect the dots, the longer the three of us fucked. It was the little things, like the eye contact she gave me while we made love, not the same if any when it came to her husband. It was almost like he was, as she described Yeonjun and Hajoon before, a prop. It would not be too long till that final blow would be dealt, to my knowledge we were going to tell Jaewook in a few hours, not knowing what the best time to spill the beans was, if ever. Little did I know the blow would be dealt far sooner than expected and in the most brutal fashion imagined.

—

“Hey...can I come in?” Karina said, amidst the increasingly loud pitter patter of the rain outside.

I must have fallen asleep, checking my watch it was now half five in the morning with the birds already chirping outside.

“Hey...sure...come in.” I replied, getting up and ushering a soaking Karina in.

She was drenched, wearing nothing but a white bra and matching underwear, as she strolled into my posh glamping abode, a wicked smile strewn across her face.

“Karina, you are soaked...” I said, wrapping a towel around her and bringing her into the warmth by the fireplace.

“More than you know.” She chimed back, looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers.

I felt like she wanted to tell me something, something important, there was a level of excitement emanating from her that I could not quite pinpoint.

“So...I had a talk with Jaewook” Karina said, “it’s over...” with finality, running her hands along my arm.

“Um...what...I thought we were going to do it tog...” I started.

“It’s better this way.” She replied with a smile.

“How...did he take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not good at first, there were tears, his tears that is and then anger, then tears again. I left him in the bedroom to think it through, but I am pretty sure he has passed out again.” Karina said.

“Wow...so...” I replied.

“So...I guess that’s that...” Karina said, closing the gap.

“I’m yours...” She followed up.

“Seriously Karina, you wanna fool around after such a big decision has bee...” I started again, before getting interrupted by a kiss.

Her soft lips melded with mine, as if we were made for one another, the warmth of the fire stoking our bodies as I pulled her closer for a deeper embrace.

“You know...we were meant to do this together right?” I said, staring at her beautiful face.

“Guess...I’ve been a bad girl...” Karina replied, placing her hands on my chest.

“You know what happens to bad girls right?” I replied, catching onto the sudden erotic turn of events.

“What’s that?” She said, biting down hard on my lip as I felt her hands roam into my pants and grab harshly at my sack.

“They get...punished...” I replied, moaning at her touch while simultaneously man handling her to the bed.

“Wait...” Karina said.

“Film it...” She followed up with a cheeky grin.

I walked over to the side table, propping up my phone and pressing record, making sure the lens captured everything. This was to be our second video, and I wanted it to be hotter than the last.

“Ass across my lap, young lady.” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Karina presented her pert derriere to me.

“You ready?” I asked, palms already about to strike.

She looked at me, over her shoulder, in anticipation, sucking down on my thumb from my free hand.

“Don’t hold back...be rough with me...Daddy.” Karina said, seductively, before tensing her rear for me in quiet trepidation.

I drove down with full force, not holding back as I connected with Karina’s ass cheeks, the ripple effect causing a loud slapping noise to ring off the walls.

“Ahhhhh...Daddy...” Karina wailed.

“You like that?” I replied, coming down harder this time, slapping her rear while squeezing her red raw flesh under my hands.

“Yes...AHHH...harder...ahhhh.” Karina screamed, her rear now getting battered from my slaps.

Karina started whimpering with each subsequent smack, her body trembling under my grasp, till the brunette turned around over her shoulder, eyes watering slightly at the force of my strikes.

“Fuckkk...fuck me now.” Karina said breathlessly.

I was lost in the moment, my hand still shaking after smacking her ass red raw, staring down at Karina’s tight body, I slipped out of my boxers and rammed myself as far as I could into her married cunt. My tip piercing her silky folds with ease as I split the mother of three open with my cock, my crown roughly smashing up against her cervix with a thud as I bottomed her out. Karina felt different this time, kinkier in her requests as if the ante had been dialed up a few more notches as she pushed back onto my deep hard thrusts. Her walls sucking my shaft off as I drilled her mercilessly into the mattress, adding a few more slaps to her ass each time I pumped her cunt with more of my dick.

“Pull...my hair...” Karina said between moans, sucking on my fingers as I pried her mouth open with one hand and yanked on her hair with another.

It was the roughest we had ever been, but she loved it, arching her back to allow me to penetrate her pussy to the fullest, filling her pink chamber with my meat as I stuffed her unfaithful cunt with cock.

“Ughhh…Minho...yes...fuck...dadddyyyy...” Karina moaned, her eyes locked on the camera as I railed her in the prone position.

It was just in that moment that the front door swung open. her husband Jaewook standing a few feet away from us, a look of horror on his face. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, words failing him as he just watched, slack jawed as Karina and I stared back at him.

“Moree...give me more...” Karina demanded.

We were too far gone, not giving a shit about other people’s feelings at this point, we just needed to get off.

“You like that?” I asked, spanking her rear.

“Uhhh...yes...just...like...that...daddy.” She replied, biting her lips.

“Better than your husbands?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I fucked more of my straining cock into her tight pussy.

She raised her head, looking Jaewook deep in his tearful eyes as I penetrated her cunt.

“Worlds...better...” She replied with little remorse, pushing back on me as I flipped her over onto her back.

“Spread your legs baby.” I said, rubbing furiously at her throbbing clitoris.

She complied, parting her bronze thighs for me as I pierced her folds with my dick once more. I could sense her eyes ever so often glance over at a frozen Jaewook, his face not showing anger or sadness anymore, but acceptance as I spread his wife’s legs wider, spearing her cunt with deep rupturing strokes.

Karina’s cries of pleasure were mounting, her body was shaking as the brunette hung her head of the side of the bed, allowing me to plough into her marital pussy over and over again, ripping through her pussy with a hunger what needed to be satiated. My cock irrigating her womb of air, the more meat I fucked into her, forcing it out in a hurry, causing a highly erotic farting noise to ring out from between her legs.

I slipped my fingers into her mouth, pumping my dick deeper into her womb, feeling the warmth of her cunt urging me for release as we locked eyes.

“I want to feel you cum...” Karina moaned.

“Wai...” Jaewook spoke, his voice feeble in the distance.

We ignored his plea, locked in our own mating ritual as Karina pushed her hips towards me with each thrust, goading me into seeding her pussy.

“Fuck a baby into me...” Karina whispered, into my ear, loud enough for the killer blow to be heard by Jaewook.

It was enough to set us both off as I fucked my cock deep into Karina’s cunt, exploding at the tip as my pent up sperm peppered her cervix, leaking into her uterus as I injected her twitching womb with my thick milk.

“Ughhhh...baby...fill me...fill...me...up.” Karina groaned.

Her own orgasm triggering as I pumped her pussy fill of cum, my seed dribbling out the sides off her slit as I felt a rush of fresh fluids rush against my cock. She was gushing, the mix of my seed and her juices now coalesced as I force fed her married pussy more of my meat and sperm, right in front of her husband. I felt wave after wave of my cum, pump into her luscious cunt, spurt after spurt painting her insides in my sticky white milk.

Karina was dripping from the rear, as I finally stopped twitching inside her. The slickness of her womb bore the fruits of our labor as her gushing ceased, the stickiness smeared all over her inner thighs, dripping down her red raw ass cheeks as she got up and lay beside me in a huff. We stared at each other for a long moment, forgetting our unwanted guest for a few seconds as his sobs started again. Looking over, Karina purposely strode over to him, still leaking her womanly fluids form her slippery well fucked pussy.

“Jaewook...it’s over.” She said firmly, before turning to me wearing a smile on her face.

I looked at her, amazed and slightly shocked at the brutality of it all. Everything was caught on camera, the sex, the moans, the spanking, the lot. Rolling her hips on my lap while Jaewook took a last look at his wife, she turned to me, taking my tongue between her lips and sucking me firmly.

“Now...fuck me till I pass out...” Karina said, slipping my spent cock back into her freshly claimed cunt.

In that moment, she belonged to me, and she knew it, presenting her body to me for me to claim, claim her mind, body and soul, Karina was mine.

#karina smut #aespa smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #female idol smut #male reader

1K notes · View notes

holdinbacksecrets · 3 months ago

Text

love drunk voicemails from ex!seventeen

it’s been way too long since i’ve posted blurbs for svt >.< i hope you enjoy them! as always, thank you @un-love for sharing thoughts and helping me assign <3

seungcheol: “you used to be the easiest person to reach. for five years, i knew you’d answer my every call. now, i tell myself i was too young to understand the security of that and the luck, but i knew then. sometimes, after you answered, i wouldn’t say anything because if i stayed quiet long enough, i would hear my name. i loved the way you’d say it with a hint of annoyance, but it was annoyance through a smile. that’s the only kind i want around because it’s drenched in love. it was the only kind you knew. no one else does annoyance like you.”

jeonghan: “i’ve never seen you drunk, and i can’t sleep, so i ended up thinking about the times you were really honest—never-ending rambles that you didn’t have the awareness to cut off. it only happened when you were exhausted, but i loved it, and i decided that’s how you’d be drunk. i recorded a few of your rambles, and i play them sometimes. i’ll walk around seoul and listen to nothing else but you at 2am or 3am. my favorite one is from 6am when i picked you up from glamping for that bachelorette party. you were miserable, but we couldn’t go home until you saw the ducks at the pond. i didn’t know which pond, you forgot the name, so we kept driving until you were happy with one.”

joshua: “did you see me last weekend? i swear it was you. we were on the train, on opposite ends. i don’t think you looked my way once, and i convinced myself you saw me first but couldn’t handle seeing me again. i also tried to convince myself it wasn’t you, and it was working until you crossed your legs and i saw your ankle tattoo.”

jun: “do you still have picnics by han river? i’ve thought about going on a thursday night at eight, and i’ve wondered what i would do if i saw you. would you let me join you? what if i sat a few feet away? would u listen if i spoke without looking at you? talking towards the river with words meant for you… tell me this doesn’t feel right to you too.”

soonyoung: “where do you go when you miss me? is that conceded to ask? i always go to the mall when i miss you. it’s embarrassing, but i smell every perfume you’ve worn, at least the ones i can remember. i accidentally cried a little once. i think the employee noticed, so i bought a bottle because it felt wrong not to after subjecting the poor woman to my tears.”

wonwoo: “i know you’re dating. that fact rolled through the grapevine, and the final person let it slip like a senseless game of telephone, so i left the restaurant before my meal arrived and picked up something from a street vendor while i walked home. the walk home was miles. i couldn’t tell you how long it took. i kept stopping to catch my breath every time i thought about someone else’s hands on you. don’t date. what are we doing?”

jihoon: “we used to have a whole routine when i’d go on tour. it was so well thought out that i looked forward to missing you. i loved missing you. i loved having someone to miss, someone to come home to—an apartment warmed by your love.”

seokmin: “you called me on accident last night. it was so loud in the background. i knew you were out. i heard laughter and my eyes rolled back. then, you cursed and hung up, and i slumped over. call me again. laugh in my ear again. curse against my ear again.”

mingyu: “i still buy your grocery list. at least once a month i buy your favorite things, and i eat every last bit, but it’s all for the reminders. i stand in the kitchen to wash strawberries and cut them into halves and then quarters, and i reminisce the conversations we used to have. back then, i thought i’d hear your strawberry conversations for the rest of my life. i don’t want anyone else to. i can’t help but think no one will appreciate them like i do… did… would if you’d let me again. can we get a take two? redo? a second chance. i can love you better.”

minghao: “it’s raining. i feel like that’s all i have to say for you to know exactly what i’m thinking—all the things i’m feeling. what was it about us and the rain? did you ever figure it out? sometimes i wonder if you still try to, or if you’ve moved on, but i miss us when it rained. you sat backwards on the couch to watch the city lights blur. you talked about life like you were from another time and blamed it on the weather. you talked about me with complete certainty.”

seungkwan: “do you think about getting back together? how would you feel if i asked? i keep dialing your number first thing in the morning, before i’m wide awake, before i’ve completely lost the dream you were in, and the wanting makes me feel blissed out and uninhibited. then, i blink too many times and never do it. i wish you would reach out to me. i’d be so happy to see your name on my phone again. i took all of our calls for granted. i was too confident in us. there was never a reason not to be.”

vernon: “the courtyard behind the contemporary art museum is having a free concert this saturday. i’m going. it starts at 7, ends at 9. it’s supposed to be cold, so you should wear layers and cover your ears—the wind won’t be kind. i’ll bring a green tea with soy milk, so don’t worry about a drink. it’s a folk singer. you probably know her.”

chan: “i hope you’re still laying in the grass and using the moonlight to write in your journal. i hope there’s a ladybug on your cheek and sand in your socks. i hope you’re laughing and loving life and crossing items off on your mundanity list—or are you calling it a bucket list now? i hope you finally took that cake decorating class. i hope your mom’s healthy.”

360 notes · View notes

hoernypie · 7 months ago

Text

tags: pregnancy mentions

As both of you lay in the bed, looking at the sky covered in stars you gently squeezed his hand. "You know... Thanks for taking me here, I wasn't convinced about the whole glamping idea but it's actually cool," you said quietly looking at the shooting star, "The view is beautiful." He hummed quietly before speaking, "The view might be beautiful but it's nothing compared to you. Especially in like 5 minutes," and before you can say anything back the only thing that comes out of your lips is a quiet snort knowing he's right.

Of course despite your protests that someone will see you through the plastic walls of the bubble tent, he smiles proudly saying that they should be grateful for seeing something more stunning than the stars-filled sky. "For real, someone will see us and we don't have any protection-," you pant out while the embarrassingly wet squelches of your pussy fill the tent while he fingers you. "I wouldn't mind knocking you up, you'd look so cute with a round belly. All mine to worship." A month later you just know that the lady that rented you the tent didn't lie that many couples visiting them end up with kids.

285 notes · View notes

dreamcubed · 4 months ago

Text

paper rings | fred weasley x reader

song; paper rings [taylor swift] pairing; fred weasley x fem!rich!pureblood!reader genre; forbidden love, s2l word count; 4k timeline; goblet of fire —> order of the phoenix warnings; swearing, strict parents, fake friends, references to severe injury, slight discrimination of muggle-borns summary; you and fred were from different worlds, and in your family's eyes never should have crossed paths— but after a surprising interaction, an off-script story unfolds

this is the penultimate piece of the lover anthology!!

masterlist

"i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings."

———————————————————

One of the many luxuries that your family's status and wealth could provide was coveted seats at the Quidditch World Cup when it took place in England. And, after indulging in the enthusiasm of the crowd and countless souvenirs, you made your way back to your spacious tent with your parents feeling rather giddy. You were camping— although, with the quality and amenities of your set-up, it was more like glamping— in a more expensive and less crowded section, along with other wealthy families. So, as you settled into your double bed, you were confused at the sense of unease rippling inside of you. Still, you brushed it aside as adrenaline from the match, and finally cosied into a somewhat restless sleep.

When you woke up to the sound of screams and explosions, you realised that your instincts had been spot on, and shot out of bed to find your parents. They were hurrying out of their separate rooms just as you did, and your father quickly moved to peek out the door.

His face quickly paled, "Death eaters," he said hoarsely, and your mother gasped.

While your parents would probably never allow you to marry a muggle-born, it was not to say they didn't consider them as true witches and wizards. They were completely against You-Know-Who and his disciples— they simply didn't want their centuries-old bloodline tainted. In itself, it was still questionable, but you knew that you were lucky compared to other status households.

"Y/N, grab your wand," your father ordered, "We have to leave."

Your mother interjected, "We're pure bloods, they won't—"

"It's dark outside, they won't stop and assess who each person is," your father snapped back, moving to fetch his own wand, "Besides, they're starting fires. Wands, now."

You did as your father said, and pulled your shoes on in the process, readying to leave.

"Head towards the stadium— they're coming from the campsite entrance. Stay with us, Y/N."

The three of you left the tent and began the sprint towards the woods, your parents frequently using shielding charms as stray spells were flying all over the place. Soon, you were more protected within a crowd, but it became difficult to stay close to your parents as panicked people surrounded on all sides. As you broke the threshold of the trees, you were separated from them, and in frenzied fear you found yourself getting knocked over and rolled over the ground. Some people trampled over you, until a silhouette stopped above you and held out its hand.

"Come on, quick," you heard him say, and you took his hand and let him pull you up, stumbling to begin running alongside him.

"Thank you," you gasped out, as your legs moved as quickly as they could, now aware that it was one of the Weasley twins, from the year above.

"Don't mention it," he yelled back, slowing down slightly to match your pace.

You felt bad, and hurriedly said, "You don't have to stay with me."

"No, I don't." But he did.

Whichever Weasley twin it was seemed to somehow rejoin with his siblings, pulling you along with him. Your ears were ringing so much that you didn't see when Harry Potter and his two friends, one of them being a Weasley, disappeared, instead blindly following the twins and the only Weasley girl. That was when a horrifying yet grand formation of the Dark Mark appeared in the sky above you, making you grip the arm of the twin who had saved you. In spite of how terrifying such a symbol was, it seemed to have a positive effect, as the screaming stopped and spells were no longer being thrown around.

"They're retreating!" someone yelled, and relief washed over you.

"We should head back to the tent," the other twin said, then remembered you were there, "Where's yours?"

"Uh, in the— I'm in purple camping," you felt embarrassed to admit that you were in the wealthy campsite, especially in front of the Weasleys, who were well-known for being incredibly poor.

None of them commented, however, and the same twin continued, "Fred, you take her back there, I'll take Ginny back to ours."

Fred Weasley was the one who saved you.

***

When you arrived back at your tent, you didn't hesitate to call for your parents, "Mother? Father?" you shouted, but heard no response. Your tent was heavily fire-damaged on the outside, but perfectly fine on the inside— yet there was no sight of them. Anxiety began to rise within you again.

"I'm sure they're okay," Fred rushed to assure you, "They just haven't got back yet. I'll wait with you."

You nodded, and sat down next to him.

"What's your name, by the way?"

"Y/N," you said quietly, "Y/N L/N."

You saw his eyes widen at your last name, but he said nothing, "'M Fred— Weasley, but you probably guessed that."

A small chuckle emerged from you, "I know who you are."

"You go Hogwarts?"

"Of course."

"Yeah, I suppose we're quite famous there, me and George."

You agreed.

The minutes ticked by, and you were becoming increasingly worried.

"Look," Fred said, "My family will be getting worried about me, so I need to head back. You can come with, of course— maybe leave a note or something?"

With panicked breaths, you stood up and muttered a charm that displayed words in the air in front of your tent.

'Mother, Father— I'm safe. I am in the main campsite with the Weasleys.'

And with that, you followed Fred to where the majority of the tents were, and watched as what appeared to be his elder brothers hugged him.

"George told us where you were, but you took a long time," one of them said, as they all noticed you, "Your parents weren't there?"

You shook your head, "I left a note saying where I'd be."

He nodded, "'M Charlie, this is Bill— we're the oldest Weasleys."

"Y/N," you replied with a forced small smile.

"Any idea where the others are?" Bill asked.

Fred shook his head, "Haven't seen 'em since we were with George and Ginny."

"Shit."

Thankfully, only a few minutes later, Harry Potter and his friends returned with the Weasleys' father, who was sporting a grim expression. A discussion concerning death eaters and the Dark Mark ensued, somehow involving a house elf, but all you could do was sit there quietly. It wasn't until the conversation finished that the new arrivals noticed you. "Who's this?"

"Y/N. Y/N L/N," Fred said, "Found her in the woods."

"Where are your parents?" Mr Weasley asked.

You shrugged, "I have no idea."

The man's eyebrows furrowed, "Rich pure bloods missing," he said slowly, "Peculiar." His suspicion of you was evident.

"They're not death eaters," you said quickly, "I've— I've seen their bare arms a countless number of times."

"She's right," Bill said, "The L/N family don't exclusively wear long-sleeves like all the families who were suspected of it."

Mr Weasley seemed to ease up at that, "Sorry, just being cautious, I'm sure they're here somewhere."

***

As it turned out, when your parents had been separated from you, they had gone back to look, and gotten severely injured in the process. They had both been admitted to St Mungo's, where they wouldn't be able to leave for a few weeks. You were grateful that they were alive and seemingly mentally sound, but your large house felt even emptier than before without them.

To pass the time, you wrote a letter to Fred, thanking him profusely for saving you from being trampled to death, and informing him of your parents' situation. You handed it to your owl after pressing your family's wax seal on the envelope, before heading to the household library.

You never told your parents what happened to you that night, mainly because they hardly gave you a chance to speak as they fussed over the fact you were alive and unharmed. It was strange, how this was a secret that you kept all to yourself, at least from the people in your social circle. Complete strangers knew where you were when the death eaters attacked, but your closest friends and family didn't. Not that anyone asked— your friends knew that you went to the quidditch game, and they would have heard about what happened, but not a single one had reached out to check on you.

***

The first bit of post you received was not from friends, but from Fred Weasley, in reply to your letter. He told you that any decent person would have done the same, and that you probably would have been fine without him. He also said that he looked forward to seeing you when school restarted, before asking how your parents were. So, for the first time since they had been hospitalised, you told someone of their injuries, and how long their recovery would be. You briefly alluded to how alone you were in your house, and how he was the first person to ask about you.

Your correspondence continued right up until you boarded the train to Hogwarts, walking down until you found your friends. As you entered the compartment of your fellow Ravenclaw girls, they gave you scornful looks.

"What?" you said instinctively, confused and hurt by their reactions.

"Go away, death eater," Janice, the girl you would have considered your best friend, spat.

You furrowed your brows, "What are you talking about?"

"Your family were at the Quidditch World Cup and haven't been seen since the attack," another of your friends stated accusingly, "It's pretty fucking obvious that they're in hiding."

"No, we're not— they're not— they're in the—"

"Save it," Janice cut you off, standing up and walking towards you, making you back up out of the compartment. "We aren't friends with death eaters."

"My parents are in—" but Janice had slammed the door shut and locked it, glaring at you through the glass as she sat down.

Tears pricked at your eyes, and as a result you made no further effort to talk to them, instead continuing down the corridor in hopes of finding the one person who you knew wouldn't turn you away. It wasn't long before you found him in a compartment with his twin brother and Lee Jordan, known for his quidditch commentary. You gently tapped on the glass, making them turn their heads.

As you waved, attempting to swallow your sobs, Fred quickly slid the door open and smiled at you.

"Y/N! Good to see you," he beamed, only to notice your quivering lip, "Are you okay?"

You nodded with a sniff, "Can I come in?"

"Of course, take a seat," he moved aside to allow you entry, resuming his sitting position.

You gently lowered yourself, playing with your hands nervously. The three boys were watching you carefully.

"What happened?" Fred asked carefully.

"My friends- uh- they accused me of being a death eater."

"What the fuck? Why?"

You met his eyes slowly, "Because my parents haven't been seen since the attack."

"But they're in hospital?" George spoke up, relaying information that Fred had evidently told him.

"I tried to tell them that."

"That's fucked up, man, they're not good friends," Lee said.

"Well, we know you're not a death eater," Fred moved to sit next to you, "You can hang out with us. Right, guys?"

His brother and friend immediately nodded.

"I mean, c'mon, you were with us that night and just as scared as we were," he continued, "Even if your parents were, that wouldn't necessarily mean you are."

"Yeah, try telling that to them," you muttered bitterly.

"I would, but I don't think it's worth it."

"Yeah, if they were your real friends, they would've given you a chance to explain," George added.

"You think?"

"One hundred percent," Lee said, "They had no solid proof, they just made assumptions."

You couldn't help but smile at their instant support of you, which was exactly when the train's whistle went off, signalling departure. The three boys quickly settled into a conversation of upcoming pranks and creations, surprising you with their incredible ideas: they were a lot smarter than they let on.

"Oh, by the way, this shit is top secret, yeah?" Fred said to you, "Don't tell a soul."

"My lips are sealed," you replied, just as the trolley lady appeared outside the compartment.

"Anything from the trolley, loves?" she asked after sliding the door open.

You nodded, "Three chocolate frogs and jelly beans, please," you requested, and turned to the others, "Do you guys want anything? On me."

"You don't have to do that," Fred replied.

Reaching in your pocket, you pulled out a few galleons, "I insist. It's no trouble."

You felt guilty when their eyes widened at the sight of the coins, but less so when they started ordering things.

"So good," George commented as he chewed on a jelly bean.

"Got lucky with the flavour, then?" Lee laughed.

He hummed, "Strawberry."

"Knowing my luck I'll get bogey," Lee sighed, but popped a jelly bean in his mouth anyway, before immediately spitting it out, "I was right," he gagged.

You all erupted in laughter.

***

Not a single soul had expected the announcement that came during the welcome ceremony: the long-banned Triwizard Tournament being re-introduced, and the impending arrival of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students. Soon, you were sat with Fred and George in the courtyard as they discussed their plans to enter, despite the fact they weren't old enough.

"An ageing potion?" you raised an inquisitive eyebrow, "You truly believe something so simple will get past a barrier that Dumbledore set?"

"Have some faith in us."

You rolled your eyes, "Whatever. Don't come crying to me if it fails."

"Oh, but what if I so desperately need your comfort?" Fred teased, draping his arm over your shoulders.

"Then tough shit, Fred."

"You're mean."

You rolled your eyes, "I'm realistic."

"Just you wait."

***

"So, this is what I was waiting for?" you suppressed a laugh as George and Fred walked towards you with full beards and long hair.

They rolled their eyes in sync, but could not stop the smiles on their faces-- they had never been the type to get embarrassed, and that in itself was refreshing. Fred sat down beside you, and asked, "You have a razor, by any chance?"

Somehow, you found yourself roped into cutting their hair back to its normal length, and then using a charm to turn it back to their iconic ginger roots.

"Thank you, love," Fred muttered at the end, which created a warm feeling in your chest, but you ignored this.

"Is now a good time to say I told you so?" you chuckled, standing before both of them.

"Yeah, yeah, you were right, we were wrong, you're so smart, Y/N."

"I know," you beamed, ignoring the sarcasm.

***

It was hard to miss the scornful glances that your ex-friends threw your way, especially as you still shared a dormitory with them, but it was elating to watch them see you with the Weasleys, and, by consequence, Harry Potter. They were evidently too proud to admit that they were wrong about you, despite such blatant proof of associating with famous anti-Voldemort individuals.

"What lies do you tell them?" Janice scoffed one night as you entered the bedroom.

You chuckled to yourself.

"They'll drop you just like we did when they realise the truth."

With a hum, you replied, "Yeah, the truth that my parents have been in hospital since the Quidditch Cup."

Janice's eyes widened, making you remember that you never quite got around to telling her such a vital piece of information: you had been so busy with the Weasley twins that you hardly thought about her anymore.

Still, she doubled down, spitting, "What a convincing lie."

"Go to St Mungo's and check for yourself, Jan," you shrugged.

"Maybe I will."

"Do what you want."

***

On a fateful and agonising Wednesday after the Yule Ball had been announced, you realised that you very much wanted Fred to ask you-- in fact, you genuinely feared that you might die if he did not, and went with someone else. You felt hints of jealousy towards Angelina Johnson, who had been nothing but lovely to you, but was quite close with the twins.

As if to spite you, the universe then sent a Hufflepuff boy asking out a Slytherin girl before you, the latter saying 'yes' very eagerly. The thing was, you should not want Fred to take you to the Yule Ball-- while your parents would have no problem with you befriending someone working class, they would never allow you to date, let alone marry one. Marriage was viewed as a transaction in the pure-blood society: one married to solidify status and continue the blood line. Although, Fred was a pure-blood, so maybe your parents would allow it?

You shook your head-- you were being delusionally hopeful, besides, Fred had done very little to indicate romantic affection towards you. All of these thoughts were moot points.

It was when you were sat on the Gryffindor table with Fred and George, that such a mindset changed: the twins were bickering with their brother, Ron, when the topic of insult turned to Yule Ball dates.

"Well, where's your date then?" Ron said bitterly to Fred.

Your crush rolled his eyes before turning to you, "Y/N, you, me - Yule Ball?" He made a motion of ballroom dancing as he asked, making a situation where all you could feel inside was butterflies comedic.

"Al- Alright, then," you replied as calmly as you could.

Fred then winked at Ron, who rolled his eyes.

You felt ecstatic happiness for the next hour, until it dawned on you that Fred may have only asked you to prove a point to his brother, and you happened to be the convenient option. That was a painful perspective, that you were simply convenient-- a space-filler until he found the right person.

What did it matter anyway? Your parents would never approve.

***

Admiring the baby blue ballroom gown that had been personally crafted for you upon the notification that ballroom attire would be required at the end of Summer, you could not help but feel pretty. You had spent ages on your hair and make-up, and even taught yourself how to walk in high heels, all for this fateful night. All, shamefully, in the hope that Fred would compliment you.

So, when you emerged from the Ravenclaw tower, to find Fred waiting patiently outside for you, your nerves spiked to dangerous levels. A lump grew in your throat as you approached him, unable to even force a small smile.

He whistled, "Well, love, you are a stunner."

Only then did a smile crack through your anxious visage. "You're not so bad yourself, Weasley," you said quietly, grateful that your foundation covered your blushing.

"Shall we?" he presented his arm to you.

"We shall."

From dancing with Fred to stuffing your face with the buffet, from laughing with your arms around his neck to watching George dance with Angelina-- it was, by all definitions, a perfect night. Never had you felt more alive, more care-free, which could only explain why when Fred went to kiss you as you ran from the Great Hall with your heels in your hand, you kissed him back without reservation. Without a single thought for your parents' approval. Without a care towards what was expected of you.

As he pulled away, he said, "Your parents probably wouldn't approve."

Quickly, you placed a finger over his lips, "To that, Fred, I say fuck it."

***

The Christmas holidays arrived, and your parents were still in St Mungo's, so you spent Christmas Day at the hospital with them, chatting amicably. As much as part of you wanted to keep your secret, you knew that you had to tell them-- not for their sake, but out of respect for Fred, and the fact you were not ashamed to be with him.

"Mother, Father-- how would..." you took a deep breath, "How would you feel if I married someone poor, even if he was of pure blood?"

They both went silent, your mother's lips even pursing, "We would not be... pleased."

"You know what marriage means for families like ours," your father added, "It is not a decision we make based on feelings."

You exhaled slowly, "Well, I do not think power and status is more important than happiness."

"You are young and naïve. You don't know what to think," your mother said calmly.

"I know that you both aren't happy."

"Watch your mouth," your father said harshly, "You don't even know what happiness is."

"I know it's not only seeing your spouse at the dinner table," you snapped back, surprised that you were standing up for yourself.

You observed your mother's eye twitch, "It sounds a lot to me like you are seeing an impoverished young man."

"Maybe I am."

"You will cease such relations immediately," she replied, "Our family's reputation is at stake if you are seen frolicking around with a respectless house."

Angrily, you stood up, "I see that reputation is more important to you than your own daughter." And, with that, you stormed out of the room.

***

After that Christmas, you stopped sending letters to your parents, and delved even deeper into your relationship with Fred.

"Am I really worth losing your relationship with your parents?" he asked one Summer afternoon as you lounged by the lake.

"Yes," you said without thinking.

"I just don't want to be a cause for regret for you."

"Even without you in the equation, I would still be angry about the principle," you sighed, "Their values are not in the right places."

He hummed, "I don't want to hold you back."

"Fred, everything in my life has been dictated for me-- which classes I took, what I could wear, who I could consider dating-- this is the first time I have made a decision for myself. Don't try and take that away from me like they did."

Wrapping his arm around you, Fred smiled, "You're right, I'm sorry. I just care about your wellbeing."

***

ONE YEAR LATER.

***

"Will you come with us?" Fred asked you, after explaining his and George's grand exit from Hogwarts during exam season, "It's completely up to you, of course, don't feel pressured."

"My parents will hate me even more."

"So?"

"Rowena knows I'll probably be expelled."

"You don't have to."

"Yet, for some reason, every bone in my body is screaming for me to go."

Fred smiled, "You will?"

"Fred, I would go to the end of the earth if it meant being with you."

"Is that a yes?"

You grinned from ear to ear, "Of course it is, silly."

"Okay, okay, great-- because this leads into my next question."

"Oh?"

Shock coursed through your veins as Fred kneeled down before you, delicately taking and kissing your hand, "Y/N, I know your parents disapprove, I know we're only young, I know I can't afford a ring-- and I know this is a stupid decision, but nothing makes me happier than making a stupid decision with you."

You gasped.

"Let's get married, let's elope, even."

"Oh, Fred," you said softly, "Nothing makes me happier than making stupid decisions with you, too."

"So, will you marry me?"

You laughed, leaning down to whisper into his ear, "Fuck it."

***

Dearest Mother and Father,

You will be disappointed to know that I just married an impoverished man.

Kind regards,

Y/N Weasley

———————————————

masterlist

written; 03/01/2025 —> 22/03/2025 published; 22/03/2025 edited; —/—/——

348 notes · View notes