#he doesn’t hate him (quite the opposite actually)

[wikitpowers]

i sometimes lie awake at night thinking about that kit and julian scene in sobh when kit thinks julian doesn’t wanna see him bc he’s on “ty’s side”

[unnerving-presence]

anybody else kinda scared in the re5r they’re gonna make wesker angry as fuck the whole time with little to no actual character besides being angry plus sometimes a cocky asshole

[solaceseven]

breath of fresh air

you storm out in the middle of an argument. featuring: gojo satoru, geto suguru, kento nanami, ryomen sukuna, toji fushiguro.

GOJO - the second you stormed out, gojo was right behind you.

you heard his footsteps almost immediately, quick and determined. of course, he wasn’t going to just let you go—not without a fight.

“leave me alone, gojo,” you snapped over your shoulder, picking up your pace.

“nope.”

you groaned. “i need space.”

“i need you to not walk around alone at night,” he countered, effortlessly keeping up.

you whirled around, frustration bubbling over. “i can protect myself.”

gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know you can. you’re strong, way too strong for me, honestly—i think about it all the time, actually, how you could probably throw me into the sun if you really tried—”

“gojo.”

“right, right, focus.” he exhaled. “i know you can handle yourself. that’s not the point. i just—please, come back home.”

you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms. gojo loved your stubbornness—adored it, actually. but right now, he just wished you’d listen to him.

when you didn’t say anything, he groaned dramatically, throwing his hands up. “come on—don’t make me get on my knees.”

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would. right here. in the middle of the street.”

you rolled your eyes, turning to keep walking. when you finally took in your surroundings. without even realizing it, you’d walked all the way to a 7-eleven.

gojo followed your gaze, then brightened immediately. “oh? a sign from the heavens?” he turned to you with a grin. “ramen?”

you sighed, and gojo, ever the opportunist, pressed on. “my treat.”

“you always pay,” you deadpanned.

“exactly! so, technically, i didn’t even have to say that—but i did, because i’m a generous and loving boyfriend.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “…yeah, okay.”

gojo beamed like you had just accepted a marriage proposal. “knew you couldn’t resist me.”

you shot him a glare, but he just threw an arm around your shoulder, steering you inside like you hadn’t just been arguing minutes ago.

as he grabbed entirely too many snacks, sneaking extras into your basket with a shit-eating grin, you felt the weight in your chest ease just a little.

you weren’t done being mad at him—not completely. but as he stood beside you at the register, arms full of junk food, nudging you with his elbow like a lovesick fool, you realized—

yeah. you’d be okay.

GETO - suguru doesn’t stop you.

not because he doesn’t care—no, quite the opposite. he watches as you grab your coat, as you storm out, and he lets you go. he knows you need space, and he respects that.

but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to find you.

you don’t know how long you’ve been walking, the frustration from your argument still lingering, but eventually, you find yourself stopping by a quiet street corner. you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face, trying to steady your thoughts—

and then you hear it. a smooth, familiar voice from behind you.

“you’re really making me work for it tonight, huh?”

you whip around, only to see geto standing there, hands tucked casually into his sleeves, watching you with that unreadable expression of his.

you glare. “how did you even find me?”

he tilts his head, amused. “you’re predictable.”

you huff, crossing your arms. “if you’re here to drag me home, don’t bother.”

geto steps closer, slow and easy. “i’m not dragging you anywhere.”

you raise an eyebrow. “then what do you want?”

he exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “you’re upset. i get it. but you know i hate leaving things like this.” he steps beside you, hands still tucked into his sleeves. “so, i figured i’d come find you.”

you don’t answer right away, staring at the ground. then, without warning, your eyes begin to sting. you blink rapidly, willing the tears away, but it’s too late—geto sees it instantly.

his expression shifts, the tension in his shoulders vanishing in an instant. before you can turn away, he’s already in front of you, his hands cupping your cheeks with the kind of gentleness that makes your chest ache.

“hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, tilting your face up to him. “don’t cry.” his thumbs brush lightly under your eyes, catching the first traces of tears. “look at me.”

you do, even though it only makes your throat feel tighter.

his brows furrow, guilt flashing across his face. “i’m sorry, okay?” his voice is soft, sincere. “i didn’t mean to upset you.”

you swallow hard, blinking up at him. “…you were being an ass.”

a small, breathy chuckle leaves him. “yeah,” he admits. “i was.”

you sniff, and he immediately wipes away another tear before it can fall, his touch warm and steady. “but i didn’t mean to be,” he continues. “you know that, right?”

you nod.

geto exhales, relief evident in his expression. his hands don’t leave your face, his thumbs still tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“come home?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

you glance away, mumbling, “still mad.”

“i know.” his lips quirk into a small smile. “you can be mad at me at home, too.”

a pause. then, finally—

“okay.”

he doesn’t say anything, just lets his forehead rest lightly against yours for a moment before taking your hand in his, squeezing it once before leading you back home.

NANAMI - the argument had left a bitter weight in your chest, one that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you wanted to. the walls of your shared home felt too tight, too suffocating, so you did the only thing that made sense—you grabbed your coat and walked out.

you didn’t have a destination in mind, just the simple need to move, to put some distance between you and the words that had been thrown too carelessly.

at first, you thought you were alone. but then, a few blocks in, you heard it—steady, familiar footsteps trailing behind you.

you sighed. “kento.”

a pause. “hm?”

you turned slightly, just enough to glance over your shoulder. sure enough, he was there. hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, but present nonetheless. he didn’t try to walk beside you, didn’t call your name or tell you to come home—he was just there.

“you don’t have to follow me,” you muttered.

nanami exhaled slowly, adjusting his tie as he kept his pace behind you. “i know.”

and yet, he didn’t stop.

you didn’t push him away, either.

the night air was crisp, the streets quiet save for the occasional car passing by. you walked, and he followed. neither of you spoke. the argument still lingered between you, raw and unhealed, but for some reason, his quiet presence made it easier to breathe.

eventually, your feet carried you to the park. it was empty this late, just dimly lit by a few scattered streetlights. you found yourself heading toward the swing set, your steps slowing as you lowered yourself onto one of the swings. the chains creaked slightly under your weight.

nanami hesitated for only a second before taking the swing next to you. he didn’t say anything, just sat there, hands resting on his thighs, eyes fixed ahead.

the silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just… there.

after a long moment, you broke it.

“we’re going to be okay, right?” your voice was quieter than you intended, but you didn’t correct it.

nanami didn’t answer immediately. he let out a slow breath.

“yeah,” he said, firm, certain. “we’re going to be okay.”

and for the first time since the argument, you let yourself believe it.

SUKUNA - the door had barely swung shut before you heard heavy footsteps behind you.

you had barely made it down the front steps when a clawed hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

sukuna’s grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm—unrelenting. “where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, edged with something unreadable.

you didn’t turn to face him. “i need to cool off.”

his fingers twitched against your skin. “tch. you can cool off inside.”

you exhaled sharply, attempting to pull away, but he didn’t let you. his grip remained steady, grounding. “i don’t want to be inside right now, sukuna.”

“and i don’t want you wandering off alone.”

you finally turned, eyes burning with frustration. “i can take care of myself.”

his expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his crimson gaze. “i know you can.” his tone softened, just barely. “that’s not the point.”

silence settled between you, tense and heavy. the night air was cool against your skin, the world around you quiet. your breathing was uneven, your heart still pounding from the argument. you wanted to be stubborn, to keep walking just to prove a point.

but sukuna didn’t let go.

for a long moment, he just looked at you. not with anger, not with amusement—just quiet, unreadable intensity. and then, after a sigh that sounded almost reluctant, his grip loosened. his hand slid down to take yours, fingers wrapping around yours in a way that felt less like restraint and more like holding on.

“come back inside,” he muttered. his voice wasn’t commanding, not like before. it was something else. something almost pleading.

you hesitated, still upset, still wanting to fight. but his hand was warm, solid, there. the fight had drained out of you, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

after a long pause, you sighed, giving his fingers a small squeeze before turning back toward the house.

sukuna didn’t say anything, just followed beside you, his hand never leaving yours. when you stepped inside, he made sure the door was locked behind you, his movements slow, deliberate. neither of you spoke as he guided you toward the bedroom, the silence no longer suffocating but something quieter, softer.

the argument wasn’t over. you weren’t ready to let it go. but as sukuna’s grip lingered, steady and sure, you knew—

you two were going to be okay.

TOJI - toji doesn’t follow you. at least, not right away.

he watches as you storm out, jaw clenched, arms crossed, your anger still crackling in the air like static. he lets you leave, doesn’t call after you, doesn’t chase you down. he just sits there, rubbing a hand over his face with a deep sigh.

but after a few minutes, he clicks his tongue, grabs his jacket, and heads out after you.

he knows you—knows you’re stubborn, knows you need space, but he also knows it’s late, and he’ll be damned if he lets you wander around alone.

it doesn’t take long to find you. you’re sitting on a bench at some quiet little bus stop, arms hugged around yourself, your knee bouncing impatiently. toji exhales, shoving his hands in his pockets as he makes his way over.

you glance up when he steps in front of you, glaring. “go away.”

“not happening,” he says flatly.

you scoff, turning your head. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

“good,” he deadpans. “cause i ain’t here to talk.”

you blink, caught off guard, looking at him. he just shrugs. “you needed space, so i gave it to ya. now i’m just gonna sit here and shut up.”

and with that, toji plops down onto the bench next to you, spreading his legs wide, leaning back like this is the most natural thing in the world.

you stare at him. “you’re kidding.”

“nah.” he closes his eyes, tilting his head back. “go on. be mad.”

you are mad. but suddenly, it feels a little ridiculous.

the two of you sit there in silence, the sounds of the city buzzing faintly in the distance. the weight of the argument still lingers, but toji’s presence, solid and unshaken, makes it feel smaller. like it’s not going to swallow you whole.

after a while, he cracks an eye open, side-eyeing you. “you done sulking yet?”

you huff. “i’m not sulking.”

“yeah, yeah.” he stretches, rolling his shoulders. “c’mon. let’s go.”

you hesitate. “i dunno…”

he stands up, glancing down at you. “i’ll buy you food.”

you squint. “bribery?”

toji smirks. “call it what ya want. just get up.”

you sigh, but when he holds a hand out to you, you take it. his grip is warm, steady, and when he tugs you to your feet, he doesn’t let go.

“where are we going?” you mumble.

“dunno.” he shrugs. “we’ll figure it out.”

and somehow, that’s enough.

[novascharms]

calming angry rafe down..... i NEEEEEED himmmm asdfghjkl

“wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, leaning toward him, your hopeful gaze searching his face.

he shakes his head faintly, eyes closing as he rests his head back against the seat. “nothing to talk about. just topper being topper—trying to get me to break his fucking kneecaps.” his tone is flat, but the undercurrent of frustration is unmistakable.

you blink at his casual mention of violence, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “he doesn’t like me very much, does he?”

at your words, rafe’s irritation flares visibly, his fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to punch something. “he just needs to piss off. fuck,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “and i know—i know—he can’t stand it. he hates that i get close to someone he can’t touch, someone who’s fucking mine. he’s a pissy little bitch, and the next time i see him—”

“rafe,” you interrupt softly, sensing the dangerous direction his thoughts are heading. “calm down…” you murmur, your voice soothing as you lean in to press a featherlight kiss to his cheek.

his breathing is still uneven, his chest rising and falling with controlled restraint. “you’re getting way too worked up,” you whisper, cradling his face with one hand, your thumb grazing along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

his lips remain tight, his gaze hard, but he doesn’t pull away. you take the opportunity to scatter soft kisses across his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips. your touch is gentle, alternating between quick pecks and lingering brushes. at first, he’s unresponsive, but slowly he starts kissing back, his lips yielding to yours in unspoken surrender.

you trail your kisses lower, down along the line of his jaw to his neck. you feel the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, the tightness in his posture softening under the warmth of your lips.

your hand glides down his chest, your fingertips barely grazing the ridges of his abs, tracing slow, soothing patterns. his breaths come slower now, steadier, the anger slowly ebbing away with each kiss you leave on his skin.

rafe remains still, his arms resting at his sides, his body still tense under your gentle touch and then your hands find the edge of his sweatpants.

your hand is halfway in when he tenses, "you don't have to do this—" he starts but you're cutting him off. "i want to." you whisper softly and he knows you want to, you've been trying and asking for days. he was the one to insist you go slower which was fair since you were the one who wanted to go slow in the very beginning. that all changed the moment you two made out for the first time. you'd quickly thrown 'slow' in the trash.

you kiss your way back to his lips, "will you tell me how?" you'd seen videos and could also imagine what to do but actually doing it was a lot different. rafe hums against your lips, "take it out first," he mutters with his lips inching yours.

you glance down and slowly take his semi-hard cock out of his pants. you stare at it for a couple of seconds. it's heavier than you'd imagined, fat and veiny with this glossy pink tip that makes your mouth water just a little. without a word from rafe, you're curiously running your hand along it.

you don't expect rafe to tense at your touch and you're immediately looking up at him in surprise when he does. "did that hurt? did i just hurt you?" you ask and his smile is genuine, "quite the opposite." he rasps and then his hand is covering yours gently. he guides your hands up and down along his fat cock and you're a little mesmerised watching it slowly grow in size.

rafe's heavy breathing tells you it's going good so far but you want to get it in your mouth. the nerd in you is trying to calculate how it would even be possible, how you could get such a big dick past your lips without choking on it.

you're lowering your head to get him into your mouth when he stops you gently, fingers on your chin. "no teeth." he explains and you're nodding before you're desperately trying to get down there again. he stops you, again. "just..take it easy, start with the tip and slowly take more." he continues, eyes boring into yours. you could see the lust in them, just pooling in his eyes as he watched you practically drool to get his cock in your mouth.

the moment he let go of you, your tongue was darting out just enough to slowly lick along his fat tip. rafe hissed and gripped the car handle, "fuck," he whispered lowly. you pulled back and looked at it. you weren't sure why you expected it to do something and when it didn't, you just gave it another experimental lick before slowly wrapping your lips around the tender head, suckling gently.

"that's it, baby..take it easy.." rafe is muttering as you suckle on his warm tip. you hesitate for only a second before you're taking more of him in your mouth and you don't expect the tears to come so quickly. they don't really bother you. you realize nothing really bothers you while he's in your mouth. your mind has gone completely empty, void of any noise or thought, he's all you can feel, all you can sense is him filling you up.

it doesn't take long before you're bopping your head up and down and drooling all over his cock. rafe is groaning and grunting every couple of seconds and his hands are in your hair but you can feel him resisting, can feel the moment he wants to push your head down but every time, he stops himself and just lets you go at your own pace.

you whimper when you attempt for the third time to get his entire lenght down your throat and almost want to cry in frustration that he just won't fit. rafe is holding your head back, trying to say something but continously getting cut off by his own moans. "p-perfect, baby, fuck, that's perfect.." he tilts his head back and holds onto you so you stop moving for five seconds. you were eager, so goddamn determined. "stop forcing..you'll hurt yourself." he grunts before he's letting you go and your mouth is right back on his cock, seeking that fuzzy feeling, that instant quietening of the mind.

you know he won't fit unless rafe bucks his hips up and fucks your mouth and you know he won't do that so you settle for using your hands for the part of him you can't reach. you stroke him up and down and your drool helps keep it all smooth and wet. "jesus..fuck, fuck.." rafe moans, voice low, and then you're speeding up, just a little. you just want more, want it to take you over, want to make rafe feel good.

something seems to snap in him because his hands fly to your hair and he's groaning, shoving your head down onto his fat cock. he forces you to take more and more of him and the noises you make are filthy and down-right obscene. you're whining, high, and desperate around his veiny cock as you try to keep up with how he's pushing your head down over and over.

you're choking around him, tears streaming down your cheeks and he's doing all the work now, gripping your hair and shoving your head down, pushing your mouth onto his cock. "g-god..that's it..!" his hips stutter, and then he's hurriedly pulling your mouth off of him as his cum squirts out and covers his cock and a bit of his shirt.

you stare at his tip, a little dazed while you catch your breath. you watch the creamy white lines cover it and without giving it much thought, you're licking the cum off his length and tip. rafe hisses at the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip, "if i knew you wanted it, i would've come in your mouth." he's mumbling, and only then do you look at him, "why didn't you?" you ask, mind still a little fuzzy.

"because a lot of people don't like it." he's got this lazy smile on his face as he runs his fingers through your hair. you blink at him and try to think of a reason someone wouldn't want it. all that hard work for nothing?

"did you like it?" you ask him as he sadly puts himself back in his sweats. he's chuckling, "did i like it? that has to be a rhetorical question." he pats his leg gently and you're on his lap in a matter of seconds. "i liked it." you mutter as he presses a couple of kisses to your lips. he pauses and cups your cheeks gently, "are you sure you liked it?" he's whispering softly, "you seem..out of it."

you were out of it; eyes still dilated, mind still fuzzy, brain still empty. you'd never ever felt like this. "i'm really sure i liked it." you nod and rest your head on his shoulder. "i wanna do it again." you confess which has him chuckling again. "you won't hear a complaint from me.

snippet from 'teach me' series

[fireinmoonshot]

misunderstanding | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When you overhear Joaquín talking about you being clingy, you assume he secretly hates that you have been lately. Joaquín sets out to make you realise it was all just a misunderstanding. Warnings: Mentions of food. Word Count: 3.1k A/N: This was requested and I loved the idea so much so I just had to write it. It took me a few days but I've gotten around to it. I love how it turned out as well – it ended up being one of my longer Joaquín fics!

“So, is Joaquin your boyfriend?” Cass Wilson, Sarah’s oldest son, asks.

You’re sitting in the living room at Sarah Wilson’s house with her two sons sitting on either side of you on the couch. You’d offered to babysit them for a bit while Sam and Bucky took Joaquin out for some training and Sarah finished up with her shopping in town. For a while you’d been watching something on TV, but then the boys had gotten bored and started an interrogation instead.

“He is,” you confirm.

AJ, the youngest, nods, as if pleased by your answer. “Are you an Avenger too?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m not an Avenger. I’m just a normal person.”

“That’s a bit boring,” AJ sounds a little disappointed.

It’s then that you hear the sound of a car door closing outside, followed by the sound of laughter – Sam, Bucky and Joaquin are back from training, saving you from a possibly awkward conversation with Cass and AJ. You stand up from the couch. 

“It sounds like your Uncle Sam is back, I’m gonna go open the door for them, okay?”

Your hand is on the door handle, about to open it, when you hear what the men are talking about. It makes your heart drop into your stomach. 

“Yeah, she’s really clingy lately,” Joaquin says, his voice unmistakable. “It’s kinda weird cause she never was before, but after everything happened and I was in hospital for a while, she has been.” 

Your hand falls away from the door handle and as you hear footsteps coming up the stairs, you step backwards away from the door, feet leading you away before you can think too much about it. You walk straight through the living room, ignoring AJ and Cass’ confused voices asking you why you were going in the opposite direction of the front door, and head upstairs, going straight for the bathroom – one place you can trust Joaquin isn’t going to barge in looking for you when he notices you’re not downstairs. 

With a deep breath, you lock the door behind you and put your hands down on the edge of the sink, trying to calm yourself down and slow your heartbeat. Joaquin’s words are on repeat in your mind. She’s really clingy lately. Had you been? You hadn’t really meant to be. It was true that you’ve never been a particularly clingy girlfriend before, but after almost losing him, maybe you had become one of them. 

And Joaquin doesn’t like it.

Joaquin, who is quite possibly the most clingy boyfriend on the planet, doesn’t like having a clingy girlfriend. It’s almost laughable. You stop yourself from actually laughing out loud, which ends up being a good thing when you hear a knock on the bathroom door.

“Angel, you in there?”

Your head snaps towards the door and you stifle a groan. While Joaquin wasn’t going to barge into the bathroom looking for you, it clearly wouldn’t stop him from knocking and sussing out where you were. There are only so many places to hide in this house.

“I’ll be out in a second!” You call, trying to keep your voice steady and not show how much you’re hurt. You don’t want Joaquin to know that you overheard him, but it’s clear to you now more than ever that you can’t be clingy to him anymore. He wants his space or he wouldn’t have been telling Sam and Bucky all about how clingy you are.

When you exit the bathroom, after splashing some water on your face to try and calm yourself down a little more, Joaquin is still out in the hallway, leaning against the wall opposite the bathroom and scrolling on his phone. He looks up as soon as he hears the door open, a smile on his face. 

“How did training go?” You ask, trying to be casual about it.

Joaquin puts his phone back in his pocket and walks towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist in greeting. It’s only been two hours since he last saw you but to him, two hours is basically the equivalent to two months. He can’t help but notice the way that you don’t drape your arms over his shoulders like you’d usually do.

“It was good,” he replies. “I kicked Sam’s ass, actually. Bucky was even impressed.”

You give Joaquin a tight lipped smile and extract yourself from his arms. “That’s awesome, baby. I’m proud of you.” You can hear voices downstairs – Sam, Bucky and Sarah, who has obviously returned back from town while you were in the bathroom. “Is that Sarah I hear downstairs? I promised her I’d help her with dinner tonight.”

Before Joaquin can so much as utter another word, you’re walking down the stairs. He watches you, confused, and shakes his head as he follows you downstairs to the kitchen where Sam and Bucky are helping Sarah put away the groceries. 

He really had had a good training session. It was nice to spend some one on one time with Sam and Bucky like that, to learn different things from each of them and watch them sparring together. If he was even a little bit of a better fighter after it, he’d consider that a win. 

The fact that he couldn’t stop talking about you on the way home had probably lost him a few points with Sam and Bucky, though. He couldn’t help it, though – you’re the love of his life and you’d offered to look after Sam’s nephews so they could go out and train. He’s always thinking about marrying you and starting a family with you, so to see you do something like that just made him love you even more. 

Even though he really would have loved to have you come and watch him train. 

When he’d mentioned that to Sam and Bucky though, they’d given him a strange look. 

“You two aren’t one of those couples that can’t ever be separated, are you?” Bucky had asked, looking a little disturbed at the idea. 

Joaquin snorted. “Did you not just notice that I spent two hours away from her so I could go and train with you guys?” 

“Yeah, and talked about her for at least an hour of that,” Sam added.

“It’s no secret that I’m clingy as hell when I’m around her,” Joaquin shrugged as they got out of the car and started walking towards the house. He had a skip in his step just at the thought of you being inside the house. “But to be fair, she’s been really clingy lately. It’s kinda weird cause she never was before, but after everything happened and I was in hospital for a while, she has been.” He paused to smile to himself. “I love it though. She should be clingy with me more often.” 

They’d walked inside then and the first thing Joaquin did was ask the boys where you were. They said you’d just run upstairs, so Joaquin assumed you were in the bathroom and headed straight upstairs to check on you.

Now, as he walks into the kitchen behind you, he doesn’t even think twice about placing his hands on your hips as he stops behind you. He’s glad when you don’t immediately shake him off. You’re standing next to the counter, right by the door, watching as Sam and Bucky argue over which cupboard salt goes in.

Sarah rolls her eyes and snatches the salt from Sam’s hands before putting it in the correct cupboard in an attempt to stop the men from arguing in her kitchen. You laugh a little as you meet Sarah’s eyes and she just sighs and shakes her head.

“You want me to help you and Sarah with dinner too? I don’t mind,” Joaquin says in your ear, his hands still on your hips. He’s completely unaware that you’re fighting your instinct to lean back into his chest and also trying not to pull yourself out of his grip.

“It’s fine, baby,” you say, voice only loud enough for him to hear. “Sarah and I will work better once all of the men are safely out of the kitchen.” It’s a little harsh but it’s true.

Joaquin laughs, the sound making you feel warm and comforted. “Yeah, I’m actually gonna agree with you on that one, angel.” He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before stepping away from you. He doesn’t want to leave, but he can sense that you’re not yourself and until he can get some alone time with you, he doesn’t want to push you. “Guys, lets go show AJ and Cass that new move you taught me and leave the ladies alone for a bit, yeah?”

Somehow, his words actually work and Sam and Bucky leave the room after Joaquin. It’s remarkably more quiet inside now that they’re gone and Sarah lets out a breath of relief.

“I’m actually impressed Joaquin didn’t join in on that and managed to get them outside,” Sarah admits. “That kid can usually talk more than Sam and Bucky combined.”

You chuckle and walk further into the kitchen to help Sarah finish unpacking the groceries that Sam and Bucky hadn’t gotten around to. “Yeah, you’re right about that one.”

Outside, Joaquin is smiling as AJ and Cass freak out over how cool the new move is after Joaquin shows it to them. But in the back of his mind, he’s still worried about you. Something is off – with the way you’d pulled yourself out of his grip upstairs and the way you’d been less affectionate with him downstairs. Has he done something wrong? He can’t think of anything off the top of his head. Everything has been normal with you until now.

“Hey Cass,” Joaquin starts, pulling the older boy to the side as AJ asks Sam and Bucky to show them some more cool moves. “Did something happen with my girlfriend while we were out?”

Cass looks up at Joaquin, confused. “No, we just watched a show and talked. Then she said she was gonna go open the door for you guys and then she came back through and went upstairs really quickly.”

Joaquin thinks. What were they talking about as they were walking towards the house? It hits him, then. He was talking to Sam and Bucky about how you’d been clingy ever since he’d gotten out of the hospital. You had to have overheard him… had he said something that had hurt your feelings? Whatever it was, he needs to fix this right now. 

He doesn’t even bother to tell Sam and Bucky where he’s going, just thanks Cass and heads straight for the house, ignoring Sam as he calls out to ask him where he’s going. There’s only one thing he needs to do right now and it’s not out here.

You’re still in the kitchen, mid-way through washing some of the vegetables that Sarah had gotten to cook dinner with tonight. Sarah is cutting up the ones you’ve already washed. She looks up as Joaquin walks in the room, a little breathless from having basically ran back inside the house. 

“Everything all right, honey?” She asks him. 

“Yeah,” Joaquin nods. “Can I borrow your sous chef for a second though?”

From your spot at the sink, you put the vegetables down and grab the hand towel to dry your hands. You hadn’t expected Joaquin to come back in so soon, letalone to ask to talk to you. But maybe you hadn’t been as successful at hiding your hurt as you thought you were.

“Of course you can,” Sarah says, watching as you walk over to him.

Joaquin reaches down and grabs your hand before tugging you out of the room and up the stairs towards the bedroom that you’ve been sharing while you’re visiting Sarah and the kids. He’s a little surprised that you don’t resist him, but once the bedroom door closes, you drop his hand just like he’d expected you to do since he first took it.

“What’s this about, Joaquin?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest.

He looks at you for a moment, trying to read your expression but failing. “I owe you an apology, angel. I think I said something earlier that hurt your feelings. That’s why you brushed me off earlier and have been kinda short with me, right?”

Joaquin is more perceptive than you’d thought and there’s no point in trying to deny it when he already somehow knows that he said something that hurt you. 

“You did,” you admit. “I didn’t think you minded that I’ve been clingy with you since your accident, especially because you’re so touchy with me. But I’m sorry, Joaquin. I never meant to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like I don’t give you space.” 

You watch as Joaquin opens his mouth, then closes it again. He furrows his eyebrows and runs a hand through his hair. “Wait, what the heck are you talking about? When did I say that I didn’t like you being clingy or that it makes me uncomfortable?”

“Earlier,” you frown. “When you were coming back inside after you went out with Sam and Bucky. I was at the door and I heard you telling them that I was clingy. That I never used to be but ever since you were in hospital I became that way.” 

Joaquin laughs softly and runs a hand over his face. “Okay, angel. You didn’t hear everything I said, did you? When you ran off upstairs like the boys told me, you left before you finished hearing what I said.” He steps towards you and takes both of your hands in his. “You missed the part where I said I love you being clingy with me. That you should be clingy more often.” 

For a moment you just stare at him, a little confused. “Are you just saying that to try and make me feel better or something?” You ask, apprehensive.

He shakes his head. “You can even go and ask Sam and Bucky if you don’t believe me. They heard me say it,” he says. “I mean, come on, angel. I’m clingy with you, why would I not love it when you’re the same to me? I love it when you touch me, when you put your hands on me or when I hold you and you lean into me. I love that you’ve gotten in the habit of randomly kissing me whenever you see me and texting me in the middle of the day to check in whenever we’re not together. I mean that.”

Much to your dismay, tears start to form in your eyes. The second Joaquin sees them, he drops your hands and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. One of his hands rests on the side of your head, stroking your hair gently.

“Angel, why are you crying?” His voice breaks a little. He can’t help it. Joaquin always gets emotional whenever you do. It’s something deep within him that he can’t control.

“I feel like an idiot,” you mutter into his chest, your hands balling up in the back of his shirt. “I misunderstood what you were saying and I’ve been treating you badly for it ever since you got back without even hearing your side of it. I just assumed.”

Joaquin sniffs, rubbing your back. “You are not an idiot. If I’d heard you saying something like that, I probably would’ve jumped to conclusions as well. Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay?” 

You pull back from the hug a little, but keep your arms around him. You don’t want to let him go, especially when you see the tears sliding down his cheeks. “Joaquin, why are you crying?” Your eyes widen, one of your hands moving to his cheek to wipe away a tear.

He lets out a breathy laugh. “Cause you’re crying! And I’m the reason you are.”

“No!” You shake your head. “I’m the reason I’m crying, baby.”

“Yeah, but I’m part of the reason,” he mutters.

You wipe another tear as it falls down his cheek and he does the same for you, gently swiping underneath your eye too. You stare at each other for a moment before both of you begin to laugh. 

“I bet we look ridiculous right now,” you grin up at your boyfriend. “Both of us, standing here in the middle of the room crying our eyes out. It’s a good thing you picked this room for us to have this talk rather than the backyard, for example.”

Joaquin laughs. “Yeah, Sam and Bucky would think we’re going insane.”

You lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, still a little wet from the tears that had been falling down it only moments earlier. “You are not the reason I was crying, Joaquin. I shouldn’t have assumed that you hated it. I should’ve finished listening to what you were saying before I ran off and hurt my own feelings. You’ve never made me cry.”

“I hope I never do,” Joaquin mumbles, tightening his arms around you. “I’m still sorry that something I said hurt your feelings, even if I didn’t mean to, angel. Do you accept my apology for that? I’m not gonna be able to drop it unless you do.”

“Yes, Joaquin. I accept your apology.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “I suppose I should return you to Sarah,” he sighs.

“Not just yet,” you shake your head and move closer to hug him again, resting your face against his chest. His warmth spreads through you, giving you comfort after all the stress of the last hour or so. It’s a good thing Joaquin is a quick thinker because if you’d had to sit and stew on all of this for a bit longer, you would’ve been a bigger mess. “I just want a few more minutes with you now that you’ve told me you like me being clingy.”

Joaquin smiles. “You know I’m not gonna leave you alone for the rest of the night once you and Sarah are done cooking dinner, right? I’m gonna be glued to your side. Sam and Bucky might tease me about it forever but it’ll be worth it.”

“Good,” you hum. “I missed out on some of my favourite kinds of PDA when I was hurting earlier, so we have a little bit to make up for. I want a hand on me at all times. You got that, Torres?” 

He chuckles softly. “I think that can be arranged.” 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.

wc: 26.7k; warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smoking cigarettes, negative attitudes about smoking, quitting smoking; mentions of misogyny in South Korea; slow burn; constant bickering, tbh; smut (fem reader, striptease (?), heavy making out, scratching, penetrative sex, he puts his hand over her mouth and she licks it, multiple orgasms, handjob, fingering); non-idol!AU - smoker, pining, bratty!JK x cold, independent, insomniac!reader; reader's POV

--

“Got a light?”

You reached in your pocket and pulled out the lighter that you always kept on you. It had a dragon insignia etched into the black metal. Heavy and substantial. Serious enough to bruise if thrown with enough force. You flicked it open with your thumb and raised it.

Jeon Jungkook leaned in, holding a cigarette between his lips expectantly.

You made your distaste evident in your expression.

He smirked.

You pressed the button and the orange flame shot up. Burning paper and tobacco. The end of the cigarette glowed red. You pulled your hand away, flicking your wrist to extinguish the flame. Slipped it back into your pocket and resumed not looking at him. You heard him inhale with a satisfied sigh before bleeding out smoke to the sky.

“You smoke too?”

“Fuck no,” you snapped. “I’m not disgusting.”

There was a sharp sucking sound of Jungkook’s incredulous annoyance. “Hm. Then the lighter’s just for me, huh?” His voice was throaty with nicotine. You hadn’t moved away yet. He nudged your shoulder with his knuckles. You didn’t react. “You like me that much?”

You could smell the fumes in the air even though he was attempting to be careful about it. That was the thing about smoke. It got everywhere. A gaseous parasite. You didn’t reply. Instead, you stuck your hands in your denim jacket pockets and acted as if he wasn’t there. Predictably, not a single person looked your way, even with your pleated blue plaid miniskirt was grazing the bottom of your ass and your black pleather corset showing off the ample curve of your breasts.

No one wanted to deal with the big tattooed guard dog smoking just behind you.

He was trying to stand close but not too close. You wondered if Jungkook was aware of how much subtilty he lacked. He likely had no clue. He called your name, casually, desperate for some sort of attention.

“Just say it.”

You turned your head maybe an iota of a degree in his direction, glaring at him from under your black baseball cap. Seething.

“The lighter is not for you, Jeon Jungkook.”

His lips twisted into a pout. He ran a hand through his shaggy black hair which definitely worked on other people. Just not you. He held the lit cigarette away from you, and so you spared him a little more of your gaze, pivoting your black boot to view him at an angle.

“You’re lying,” he asserted with false confidence. “You’ve always got it when I ask.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean that it’s for you. Could be for someone else.”

This revelation did not pacify him. The opposite, actually. His brows knitted together. The corner of your lips ticked upward. This pissed him off even more as you seemed to imply scenarios that he very much did not like. You were curious on what how he would approach it.

“Yeah, right. Sure.” He took a quick drag and blew it towards the sky. His dark eyes locked on you. He called your bluff. “You don’t like smoking. There’s no way you would hang out with anyone else who does. You already told me that’s the reason we’re not dating.” Uncertainty etched into his stern expression. “… Right?”

You tilted your head at him.

You watched your silence infuriate Jungkook. He puffed up his chest a little, which was admittedly impressive even in his oversized black t-shirt. He had big pectoral muscles. He had picked up working out to add an addiction in attempt to subtract one. He did smoke less in your presence. But not zero.

“Right?”

He was being very demanding and prissy right now.

You pursed your lips and sucked on the side of your teeth. Then you said, “Yup. That’s the only reason.”

Despair ghosted over his features. He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. There was slightly more than three-fourths left. His eyes went from you to the concrete sidewalk and then back again. You frowned.

“Don’t even think about littering,” you warned.

He clicked his tongue and flicked ash behind him. “So? Who is it?”

“Who is who?” You taunted back in the same irked tone, minus the underlying insecurity.

“The other person you’re cheating on me with,” Jungkook snapped.

You weren’t bothered by his fury. “I’m not cheating on you if you’re not my boyfriend to begin with.”

He shot you a look that could have scalded most. “And whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

“Tch, then be my girlfriend and take them from me.”

“Not how this works,” you countered, shifting your stance away from him. Slight panic flashed over his features. You ignored it. “My bus is coming soon.”

“Ugh,” he tutted. “I hate that you go to concerts alone.”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t spend your money on smokes, you could join me.”

“I asked,” he growled. “I have the money. You said no.”

You sent him a soulless smile. “Because you smoke.”

Jungkook looked ready to put out the cigarette on his own arm. But you were already backing away. He half-followed, still talking.

“You’re going dressed like that? You’re going to get groped.”

You did your best to not call him stupid. You settled for an eye-roll. “Why do you think I stuck around after you asked for a light?” You stopped. So did he, avoiding closeness. He looked confused. “Men stay away from me when they smell smoke on my clothes. Either I smoke or I’ve got a boyfriend who does. Either way, not attractive.”

He flinched at your double-edged comment. Then, with a measured amount of bravery, Jungkook took a step forward and tapped your chest with his hand that held the cigarette. You made a displeased face. A tendril of smoke drifted upwards for the suspended second that he held his fingertips to your skin. You narrowed your eyes at him. He backed up, lifting both hands up in defeat. He licked his lower lip, looking down at you.

“If the lighter’s not for me, then what’s it for?”

There was a metal screech of heavy brakes behind you, closer to the street.

You glared up at him, wishing he picked better addictions.

Only time could tell.

“Arson,” you replied, and turned around to step onto the bus, leaving Jungkook alone once again. He would tire of it soon enough.

-

You scowled.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

The crowd was parting as you were heading to the train station. Just before you were meant to enter, a man approached you with a plastic bag and a bottle of water. He looked almost as aggravated as you felt. His hands were occupied so for once he couldn’t ask for a light.

“Is that any way to greet someone waiting for you?” Jeon Jungkook growled.

You were far from impressed. “Did I ask you to wait for me?” You answered yourself. “No, I didn’t. So, you’re the stalker here.”

His dark eyes shifted over the passerby you had no interest in. He looked back at you with a peeved expression. “Better me than an actual creep.”

“Spoiler alert: you are an actual creep.”

You kept your distance, wary, and made to walk around him. Something flashed in his gaze but he shut his eyes and sucked in the side of his cheek with a sharp sound. His body turned, semi-following you. You noticed he was wearing a black leather jacket, a different cream shirt, and dark olive cargo pants. Same black sneakers from earlier though. His black hair seemed faintly damp. He must have taken a shower. Perhaps he went to work out while you were gone for hours.

“At least take the water and food,” Jungkook scoffed, holding out the items. “You’re probably dehydrated and hungry. Don’t your feet hurt from standing so long?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.”

You stopped and stared him down. He rolled his eyes. He seemed hurt. It didn’t matter if he was avoiding your gaze; you could tell. There was no reason to soften your tone, but at the very least you reached out and took the water bottle from him. The condensation felt nice on your palm already. You unscrewed the cap with a cold expression and heard the plastic crack. He hadn’t tempered with it, at least. A part of you felt bad for assuming the worst, but, then again, this was South Korea. You took a sip and pointed with the cap to the plastic bag.

“What food?”

Jungkook started, diverting his peek at your reaction in hopes you didn’t notice. You had. “Pan-fried tteokbokki,” he mumbled.

One of your favorites. At least he used his ears sometimes. “You really balled out, huh. How much I owe you?”

He took offense. “You think I don’t make enough money to treat you?”

“What do you need to treat me for?”

“Aren’t we friends?” Jungkook shot back.

You were mid-sip when the damage was already done. You saw him freeze up and then quickly look away. People walking past were giving you both weird looks, splitting around the two of you as a river does to a pesky rock stuck in the middle. You lowered the water bottle. He shoved his free hand into his front pant pocket. His knuckles indented the fabric. You looked from them, to back up to his face. His brows were knitted together and he appeared to be biting back an insult.

Or something else.

You reached for the bag.

Hooked your fingers around the handles. He didn’t let go. Nor acknowledge you. You tugged lightly. He remained an immovable statue. You took a step forward and pulled up, turning your face away from his chest in the process.

Jungkook whipped his head back and glared down at you.

His grip tightened. You pressed your lips together as the side of your fingers touched the side of his. He smelled fresh. He had definitely showered. The stale scent of his cigarette from earlier still lingered on your denim jacket. You shifted your eyes and made eye contact. Close. Not touching, though. Just enough for a misunderstanding that wasn’t going to happen because both of you were crystal clear on your stances.

He let go of the bag.

The weight fell onto your fingers.

He was searching for the words but you interrupted his thoughts.

“You gonna make sure I get home safe?” you asked.

He looked away. “Don’t be stupid.” Tightened his jaw. “What kind of man would I be if I just let you wander around at night by yourself?”

You watched his profile. He didn’t turn back. You stepped back. His eyes followed, as unnoticeable as he believed, and you let him have that, choosing instead to start walking.

“Might as well eat while it’s warm. I could sit down for a bit.”

You didn’t look back to see if he was after you. You heard him bite back his reply and swiftly pivot, and then it was both you against the night of blaring headlights and a dissipating crowd, feeling two kinds of alone despite all the people around. You ended up at the underground food court. Probably where he purchased the tteokbokki to begin with. Found a table and unwrapped the container. A paper-sleeved wooden skewer was tucked against the lid.

Jungkook threw himself into the seat across from you and pulled out his phone, beginning his doomscrolling.

It was still warm. Lightly spicy. Probably a bit too heavy for late night but that was why it tasted better than usual. You caught his darting glimpse as you ate. Raised an eyebrow. He pretended not to notice. Or was it that he pretended not to care? You raised the skewer and tilted it towards him. He continued to ignore you even though his body was halfway turning.

“Want one?”

“I’m fine,” he instantly answered. Almost smugly.

You knew what he was doing. Still, you acted as if you didn’t. “I can’t eat it all anyway. Don’t waste.”

Those dark brown orbs shifted back. His eyebrows furrowed. He did his best to sound annoyed. “You don’t eat enough.”

“Even if I didn’t, I should eat something healthier,” you pointed out, keeping your face neutral.

He reached for the skewer and you pierced one of the rice cakes instead. Soaking it in the sauce and holding it out. Jungkook locked eyes with you. You slid the container closer so he could lean over it.

He took the skewer from your fingers and fed himself.

All while staring at you.

The eye contact was broken by his eyes closing. Enjoying the food. Crispy, warm, spicy. Chewy on the inside, in that satisfying way that one could enjoy the seeping heat all over the tongue. He stabbed another and ate that too, without asking. You hadn’t expected him to. You hadn’t expected him to do any of this, actually. You drank another sip of water.

“I’ll take the train home.”

“I don’t think so,” Jungkook grumbled with full cheeks, sliding the container back to you and shoving the wooden skewer in your hand. His brief touch lingered. You searched for his expression but he covered the lower half of his face with his other hand, keeping his eyes shut and chewing as he spoke. “I came on my bike. I’ll drop you off at your place.”

Now that was sounding a little too familiar. “I’ll be fine on my own. I’ve done it before.”

He cracked open an eye and you could tell he was frowning even though his hair had fallen over his temples. “Just because you’ve done it before doesn’t mean it’s smart or safe.”

He underestimated your resting psycho bitch face. You speared two pieces of tteokbokki and crammed them in your mouth. Chewed with irritation. You swallowed. “No one is out to get me.”

Those three-quarter moons remained unconvinced. “That you know of.”

You raised your eyebrows and moved to continue eating. “You watch too much true crime.”

“You don’t watch enough. You are the one that should be cautious,” Jungkook retorted.

“I am cautious.” You glanced at him above pan-fried rice cake. “But you can’t live always being afraid of possible horrors. If I did that, well, I would sleep even worse than I already do.”

You ate.

Jungkook lowered his eyes and went pensively silent.

There wasn’t anything to say. You cleaned up. Threw away the remains appropriately. Began to walk with him subtly leading the way. The night felt darker. Quieter. The concert crowd was gone and now the streets were full of night owls on their own lonely missions. You pretended passersby parted to let you and him through. The more likely answer was avoidance though. There wasn’t anything that friendly about Jungkook’s rigid presence and your inherently cold one.

In a parking lot now.

His black and chrome motorcycle was parked. A beast in its own right. Lately, you had been thinking of his addictions. Tattoos. Motorcycles. Cigarettes. Chasing after the un-chasable. Was he simply a thrill seeker or was he attempting to break an internal perfection that he had been living by for far too long? Or just doing anything that came to mind to try and feel something? You stopped walking when he did. He did his thing. And then Jungkook held out a lump of black fabric to you.

You raised your eyebrows.

He half-shrugged. “You can’t get on the bike in that skirt.”

He was right. You didn’t want him to be right. You took the lump that turned out to be a pair of his sweatpants. The Nike ones he usually wore to work out. You made a face. He rolled his eyes as he produced the helmet.

“They’re clean,” he huffed. “I ain’t nasty.”

You had quite a few comebacks for that but you kept your mouth shut. You wondered if he noticed how he slipped out of his practiced Seoul dialect for half a sentence. You noticed. You averted your eyes. It was late. The adrenaline was wearing off to soreness. You could only give about a rat’s ass of a fuck right now. Fuck it. You started bending down.

“Woah!”

All of a sudden you felt a strong grip on your forearm, pulling you back up and dragging you forward, sandwiching you in between the large motorcycle and Jungkook’s scowl, quickly letting go once you glared. You narrowed your eyes. He gave you a disapproving frown.

“I’m wearing shorts under this,” you hissed under his chin.

“Booty shorts, maybe,” he snapped back. “Also, shorts or not, they don’t hide your shape. Idiot.”

He was wrong. You were wearing black boyshort-style panties. Semantics. Instead of bending down, you raised one leg to lower the inner zipper of your boots. Immediately, Jungkook caught your shoulder, steadying you. You didn’t thank him. You glowered. He glowered back as you undid the other one. You stomped down and bunched up the legs of the sweatpants, first sticking in one foot and then the other, doing a little dance in and out of your boots, before forcefully yanking them up your legs. He didn’t let you fall, but he also didn’t look either, swiftly turning his head to stare out into the street. There was a brief moment where you had to decide to tuck in your skirt or let it flare out over the top of the pants. You opted for the latter, straightening and smoothing out the pleats over the crotch of his borrowed sweatpants.

He glanced back and frowned.

You noticed. “What?”

His eyes drifted up. Brow knitted together. He let go of your shoulder. “Not fair that you look cute,” he muttered.

“I look dumb as hell.” You bent over and rezipped your boots, adding under your breath, “But it’s better than nothing. I guess.” You stood up again.

There was a shifty, expectant silence.

You wanted to go home and sleep. At the same time, you wanted to be awake. Jungkook hesitated for a moment and then handed you the helmet in his hands before circling around you to grab the other one he had stored, leaving you to figure that shit out on your own. He avoided your gaze as surely as you did his. The whole scene looked less weird that it felt. You heard the engine purr to life. He said something and you ignored him, buttoning up your jacket so your valuables wouldn’t fall out. Not your best look, however, you had not planned any of this in any capacity.

Jungkook was already seated, his long legs extended to the asphalt to steady himself.

“So, you–”

You placed your hand on his bicep and stepped onto the footpeg, nimbly swinging your leg over to balance behind him. Underneath your hand, you felt him stiffen as you settled, sliding your other arm around his back and temporarily landing on his hip before you removed the hand on his upper arm to grip his waist.

“O… Oh.”

He cleared his throat.

“I’m good,” you confirmed even though he hadn’t asked.

He felt warm and solid and you did your best to ignore it.

“R-Right.” A pause before he said, “Hold on, alright?”

You squeezed his waist.

“Mhm.”

Jungkook took you home.

-

“I’ll get the pants back later,” he said as you handed him the helmet back. “Go on up.”

You observed him. Jungkook did his best to be calm and not jittery. He gave you a strange look, realizing that you were analyzing him. He had killed the engine so he didn’t have to shout. He cradled the helmet you had borrowed with one hand, the other on the handle of his motorcycle for a moment before using it to raise the visor to uncover his dark eyes.

You paused.

Then, you unbuttoned your denim jacket, reaching into the inner pocket for your lighter.

You held it out to Jungkook.

He glanced at it, and then at you.

You ticked your head. “You’ll need a light again. Inevitably. Take it.”

His gaze sharpened. He looked away quickly, and you could tell by the contortion of his features that he was shoving his tongue into his cheek, letting out an annoyed huff. Then, he shook his head, as if your audacity was something to behold. Jungkook then transferred the helmet to the crook of his arm and shoved his dominant, tattooed hand into the inner pocket of his leather jacket, ripping out a slightly crumpled cigarette box with one corner torn open.

He slapped it over your dragon lighter.

“Shit.”

You stared at your palm. And then at him. Jungkook glared back, exhaling hard.

“Take ‘em,” he mumbled. His Busan dialect was even more obvious now. His voice was gruff and his manner blunted. “Just fuckin’ take them.”

“I don’t want these,” you retorted.

“Yeah?” His eyes narrowed to daggers. “Neither should I.” His eyes shifted down and then back up. “Inevitably. You’re so fucking full of it.”

You almost flung both objects at his face. Almost. Yet something made you reconsider. Something about Jungkook’s demeanor shifted. He tried to keep his tone sharp but it was dulled by his body language. He cocked his chin in the most falsely cocky way.

“You think I’m gonna want ‘em?”

Your gazes locked.

“Then I’ll have to come to you to get ‘em.”

You pursed your lips. “I’m going to throw them away.”

He dared you. “Do it.”

“You’ll waste your money and time.”

“And I’ll be reminded you’ll never let me live it down,” Jungkook growled. “I’ll think twice before putting myself through that fire.”

Silence.

Eye to eye.

You held his stare.

Then, you lowered your hand, clutching his cigarettes and your lighter, backing away, and quickly spinning on your heel, striding into your apartment building. You punched in the code. Behind you, you heard the swift kick of an engine roar and then a fading zip away as you yanked open the glass door. You didn’t look back. You pocketed Jeon Jungkook’s cigarettes.

-

Nights later, you sat on the floor next to your bed, flicking your lighter on and off to kill the flame and revive it. Over. And over. You stared at the tiny orange burst. Then extinguished it. Then ignited it again. Such a small light. So fragile and yet so capable of burning this entire apartment down. You breathed out. Fixated on the dancing flame. Time passed.

You sat in silence.

You snapped the lid closed, snuffing it out.

The room was semi-dark. Your bedside table lamp was the only light on. The curtains were open, giving you a view of the city skyline etched into the black sky. The area was actually pretty quiet. You got lucky with a neighborhood full of older folks who mostly minded their own damn business. The apartments were older in a homely sort of way. The most telling trait of the apartment complex was the general unease in the air. Probably because some of the older folks had died in their apartments before. People could be superstitious like that. Maybe you were too. You just didn’t see it as a negative.

Which said a lot about you.

You looked up to your nightstand. Next to the dingy chrome base of your lamp was an open pack of cigarettes. The box was missing maybe three or four of them, you guessed. You hadn’t torn it open to confirm.

Behind your head, your phone began to vibrate.

You lifted your hand and placed your lighter on the nightstand. The lines of the dragon engraving caught the low light, casting shadows over it. Your hand pivoted and you felt around the bed. Found the smoothness of the screen and pulled your phone to you, lowering it to your lap before looking at the caller ID. You frowned slightly once you noticed the time. That late, huh? And this person almost never called or texted. Well. At least not to you.

You accepted the call and brought it to your ear out of habit.

“Ya. You,” mumbled the slurred, distorted voice of Jeon Jungkook.

You responded just as politely. ���What?”

He let out a huff. There was a fair bit of rustling and maybe the sound of glass on table. “I want you to know something.” You didn’t reply to that. It wasn’t a question. He paused anyway. Maybe expecting you to reprimand him. You stayed silent. “Ah, fuck.” He exhaled hard into the microphone. You held your phone slightly away from your ear even though you couldn’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “Look. I’m not drinking because I need a smoke.” You doubted it. “I just felt like drinking. It’s Friday.” He wasn’t wrong. “I… I get it, okay? I get why you don’t like it. Makes sense and all. I…” He trailed off again, struggling to find the words. “But I’m not like you. I’m not. I don’t have my shit together.”

“I don’t have my shit together,” you interjected. Should be obvious from you answering his call perfectly awake at three in the morning. He didn’t seem to be thinking rationally at the moment though. If he ever did.

“Fuck off.” He lost control of his Seoul dialect. Kept going back and forth between upstanding citizen and gruff Busan satoori. You wondered if he was aware. Probably not. “You have it way more together than me. I’m fuckin’ trying. Ugh.” His tone tightened. “It’s not… It’s not how you think it is. It’s not.”

You weren’t sure you thought it was anything but you let him talk. Nothing else to do, after all.

“I have great parents, you know.” He sighed. Despondently annoyed. “They’re awesome. I wanted to be a good son. That’s… I mean, doesn’t everybody? I listened to them. I listened to be teachers. I listened to my classmates. I wanted to be a good person, so I did everything asked of me from others.” His voice deepened to a soft growl.

“But… People take. I didn’t even realize it.”

You realized that Jungkook sounded sad.

“They take when they know you give. And I gave, because my parents taught me to be a good person and I didn’t want to disappoint them by people calling me heartless or cruel. But…” Mumbled something you didn’t catch. Cleared his throat. “It was becoming too much. I got fed up. I had to start saying no. But not before I had already said yes to a lot of stuff that I shouldn’t have said yes to. I had already developed bad habits by then.”

A few seconds of silence.

You broke it. “You’re too easily influenced,” you accused.

“Yeah, fuck me,” Jungkook grumbled. “Fuck me for not knowing that there are people are out there don’t have my best interests at heart and want to see me fucked up because they feel some type of way. My bad.”

You figured that was common sense. But maybe not. Maybe not, considering the way he talked about his parents. You pushed back your own personal biases despite their intrusive nature.

“Is your family disappointed in you?” you quietly asked.

“Me?” He let out a humorless laugh. “No. No, they’re supportive. Even if they don’t like my tattoos or the piercings or whatever, no one has ever made me feel shit about it. Everyone is positive. Even began to like those things about me when most elders would lose their shit.” He sighed. “But… I still didn’t quit the cigarettes. Just didn’t smoke around them, because I didn’t want to see my mom sad. But still. I didn’t even want to try to quit.”

A moment of reluctance.

“Until… Until I met you,” sighed Jungkook, his deep voice heavy.

Was that supposed to be flattering? You didn’t have time to ponder it.

“Hmph… I’m so envious of you.” A light thud. More rustling. He sounded a little muffled and a lot out of it. “You’re never ruffled. No matter what anyone says or does, you’re always yourself. You don’t relent even when I act like a prick. It’s so… Hah. I can’t do that.” He sounded defeated. “I try to not care too. I’m trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. The second I think I’ve got it, yes, this is me, I remember it’s not. It’s not. I just copied someone else I saw that I thought… Copying you… You’re right. Lots of people told me to quit. Or keep going, it’s not that bad. They can all fuck right off, until…”

A weak shuffle and then you could barely hear the whisper in between the phone lines. His face was seemingly buried into something. He sounded both far away and so very close at once.

“What am I doing…? It doesn’t… Doesn’t make sense.”

You almost said something. It wasn’t the right time. You shifted your position on the floor, leaning back against the bed. He must have heard that you were still on the other side of the line. He dragged more strength into his voice. As much as he could muster, anyway.

“How…” He shuddered. Whispered your name under his breath in the same way sailors called to stars to navigate the sea on a cold night. “You told me I should quit and… Yeah. I know you’re right. I know. I… The other night…”

The night you attempted to give him your lighter to keep.

Jungkook sniffed. “You can’t… Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter how you do it,” he mumbled. “You do. You just do. And so do I. I gotta just do.”

You finally spoke.

“Yes,” you sighed. “That’s the truth.”

Cradled the phone, leaning it against your temple.

“The world doesn’t care.” He sounded resigned but no longer on the edge. “Everyone just does what they wanna do.”

A long pause. For some reason, you had the impression that both of you were curled up somewhere at home suddenly feeling not at home. Maybe it was the time of the night. Or the alcohol on his end. Or the insomnia on your end. The long seconds marched on. Then, Jungkook asked you a question with a statement.

“I wish I knew what… What I wanna do.”

Silence.

You half-smiled knowing he couldn’t see it. Preferred, actually, that he didn’t. “Gonna be honest,” you chuckled. “I don’t know what I want to do. I follow my instincts and accept wherever I end up.”

He snorted. Haughtily. It was meant to dent to your demeanor and it was about as effective as a puff of popcorn. “Of course. Hah.” Exhaled hard, taking the fight out of himself. “You really… You really don’t know…?”

You debated what you did and didn’t know. “About what?”

An irritated huff. Something about your tone seemingly made him hesitate, though. He caught the gist of what was unsaid. Maybe it was because he was drunk. Sober Jungkook could never.

“If.” Just that. If. “Ah…”

He breathed out your name. It was very late. The darkness was at its peak. But Jeon Jungkook breathed your name with the capacity of a dreamer, half-conscious and losing fast.

“I won’t let it end like this.”

There were a few minutes of quiet.

You hung up before he could start snoring in your ear. A small part of you kind of wanted to hear it. But, instead, you hung up. Placed your phone on your lap. Stared straight ahead, to the windowsill and the peek of the city skyline against a black sky. You thought about his voice on the other end. Calling for you. You sat in silence. Night bled away. You wanted to reach for the lighter again. Your instincts told you not to.

So, you hoisted yourself up and crawled under your covers, giving in to exhaustion’s embrace.

-

The next time you saw Jeon Jungkook was an evening at a convenience store. It was a coincidence. Or perhaps one of fate’s great jokes. You spied him the second you walked into the small establishment. He was talking to a tall man with a sun-kissed tan and longish black hair in soft curls. They obviously knew each other. Jungkook’s laugh was his typical bright guffaw that he tried to stifle to not be a public disturbance.

For a second, you almost forgot that call from a few nights ago.

You looked away, heading to the other side of the store.

Before you did, though, he had glanced in your direction and done a double-take. You moved into an aisle, out of sight, heading to the back, changing your original intent for being here. This particular convenience store was family-owned. It had a small section where the owner’s wife prepared fresh gimbap daily. You wondered how many people knew about this, because it was always stocked. Maybe they preferred to buy from bigger stores, not trusting a small business. You grabbed a tray of heftily-filled tuna gimbap before heading to the fridge section for drinks.

Jungkook was standing there.

You pulled back into the aisle.

His back had been to you, so he didn’t have the chance to notice. Half-in the fridge, picking something out among the electrolyte replenishers and flavored waters. He carried a black backpack that seemed heavy with things. Workout stuff, you assumed. His companion earlier had a towel around his shoulders and had worn a red tank top with exaggerated armholes, revealing a built chest and defined arms. Jungkook’s black hair looked slightly damp, possibly sweaty, pushed back and away from his forehead. He was wearing an open navy hoodie, white tank top, gray sweatpants, and white sneakers. It was safe to assume the backpack had workout shit in it. You wondered where the other guy was. He had been very tall. Easy to spot over the tops of the aisles, but he seemed to no longer be in the store. He must have left, then. No one to distract Jungkook any longer. Hm. You still wanted a drink, but.

Not that badly.

You zipped your black hoodie over your exposed stomach once you noticed the cashier was the elderly woman. You probably would have zipped it no matter who it was. The older generation just tended to be less subtle about their judgements. You approached the register and she smiled, greeting you. You slid the tuna gimbap over to her.

He was behind you.

You glanced at the glass behind the cashier. The cabinet held various brands of cigarettes. It was very well-polished, and you could see Jungkook behind you, sternly staring at the back of your head. You turned around.

He shot you a questioning look, furrowing his eyebrows.

“The total is–”

In his hands was a big bottle. Some kind of sports drink. You took it from him, and put it next to your tuna gimbap. The old woman didn’t quite register the speed of your action, blinking several times.

“Sorry,” you said. “Could you please add this too? Thank you.”

Clearly, she could only focus at one thing at a time. She did not realize you had snatched the drink from the man behind you, which would immediately raise eyebrows. Instead, the older woman was preoccupied with searching for the barcode, turning the bottle this way and that, poking the scanner against it.

Adding it to your receipt.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

You pulled out your card as the cashier stated your new total. Tapped it as Jungkook hissed your name under his breath, but you ignored him, accepting the purchase as the cashier carefully packed up your meal and someone else’s drink in the same small clear plastic bag. She smiled her customer service smile and then noticed the disheveled punk behind you with a slight widening of her eyes.

You thanked her again and wished her a nice day before gripping his hoodie sleeve and dragging him with you.

Immediately let go when you exited the establishment, finally paying heed to the muttering of curses behind you. You reached into the thin plastic bag and pulled out his drink, pivoting slightly to give it to him. Jungkook snatched it from your hand, scowling.

“I don’t need your fuckin’ charity,” he snapped.

You wondered if he even remembered his drunken laments. “It’s not charity.” You affixed an impassive expression. “Not for you, anyway. Just making it easier for the cashier.” You began to take a few steps in the direction you needed to go.

He scoffed, “What are you doing, anyway?” and cocked his chin at you. “Stalking me now?”

You wondered if he was wishing for that. “I’m retrieving dinner like everybody else at this hour. ‘Cept you, I guess,” you added, unzipping your hoodie again even though the sun was dropping fast.

“What the–”

And Jungkook quickly jogged up beside you, shielding your body with his.

“The hell you doing?”

You glared but didn’t stop walking. “What?” Impolitely.

He pointed to your sports bra with a flick of his wrist. “Uh, you can’t leave the house like that.”

“I already have,” you pointed out. His eyes were glued to your sports bra and the low-waisted black Nike sweatpants clinging to your hips.

“And you think nothing is going to happen to you?” Jungkook indignantly shot back, blocking your way and darting his gaze around as if offenders were already on the horizon.

“Whether it does or not has no bearing on what I’m wearing,” you dryly replied. He was repeating a tale as old as time. Not that that made it any less real. It was all heard before, though. “You act like I haven’t lived for decades knowing the horrors of the world.”

His expression changed. Still frustrated. Slightly put off by your wording. And, sadly, comprehension. “That’s not what I mean.”

“That’s what you’re coming off as.”

“Not my intention,” he grumbled.

“Intentions don’t mean much in the face of what actually happens,” you said, glancing at him.

He shut up.

You almost regretted spilling your honesty.

“Sorry,” he said softly.

He seemed beaten down by your response. Eventually he shook his head and ran his free hand through his windswept black hair, trying to sneak a glimpse at your face. You were already staring at him. That threw him off. He looked away, flustered.

“Can I at least accompany you back?” he offered. Awkwardly.

You ticked your head. You knew that his gym was near that convenience store. “Don’t you live around here?” He had mentioned it, once. “I need to take the bus.” Earlier, you were aware that there was definitely a chance for you would run into him once you chose your destination. But it was the closest spot to buy liquor, and you hadn’t felt like traveling further. Then the original plan changed once you encountered Jungkook. Remembering all that made you pause. You diverted your gaze, adding, “Forget it. Go home.”

Monotone.

Your dismissal clearly annoyed him. He let out an exaggerated exhale and blocked you again when you tried to walk around him. You narrowed your eyes but didn’t raise your head. His tank top was tight, revealing the contours of his muscle. The shoulder of his hoodie had slid down, exposing part of his tattoo sleeve. Dark rings of petals in a hypnotizing mandala. The artist was talented enough to make you pause to admire. Then you swiftly looked away, anywhere else, shifting to his jaw. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and steeled himself.

“Fine.” He came to a conclusion, apparently. “I need a smoke.”

A ripple of aggravation shot through your temple. You turned your stare to fixate on Jungkook. He glared back, twice as stubborn.

“You serious?” you snarled. “Go back to the store then and buy some yourself.”

He rolled his eyes. “The fuck is the point of giving them to you, then?”

You jerked back, disgusted. “I didn’t fucking want them, asshole.”

“Yeah, well,” he pressed, becoming more resolute by the second. “That was the deal.”

You planted a palm on his chest and shoved him out of your way. Unbelievable. “There was no fucking deal,” you retorted, walking fast. He kept up because he was an annoying prick. You glowered, bristling at his presence. “What? You think you can do whatever you want, Jeon Jungkook?” The audacity of this bitch. “I’m not gonna fuckin’ give them to you anyway. So, promptly, fuck off.”

His fingertips touched your shoulder.

You yanked your body back as if scalded.

“Don’t touch me.”

He pulled his hand out of the air but didn’t back down. Those dark brown eyes narrowed. His lips thinned. Anger clouded his features. And. You felt your icy composure become brittle when you observed the distressed sadness poorly hidden underneath said anger.

A tense stillness.

“They’ll kill you,” you steely stated.

His gaze shifted. Contorted. The expression of all too well.

“Yeah.” He exhaled hard. “That’s the truth.”

Then his eyes drifted back to you.

All the fight in the air drained out. Neither of you dared to speak. There were volumes written within this shared quiet. Strangers walked past, sending you both strange looks. You and him were too busy being struck in three-in-the-morning thoughts shared during an impromptu phone call. You looked away. So did he. There was a loud screech of metal and heavy tires on asphalt. You didn’t say anything. You only had time for an instinctive decision.

You tapped Jungkook’s forearm and waved, quickly running to catch up with the bus.

Less than a minute later, him and you stiffly sat next to each other on worn seats, trying your best not to glance at one another or make eye contact with anyone else. It was mostly successful, other than a strong-smelling middle-aged man that was eyeing everybody a little too closely. He settled on you for an unknown but undoubtably nefarious reason. Jungkook shoved you against the side of the bus and firmly put his backpack in his lap, blocking the view of your torso from the stranger’s perspective. Either the random man noticed the silent hostility or lacked object permeance when drunk. He changed course.

Both of you relaxed slightly.

You zipped up your hoodie anyway. Couldn’t hurt. You lifted your head. By mistake, your eyes locked with Jungkook’s. He looked like he wanted to say something but he stayed mute for now. It was a quiet bus ride, leaving both of you in roads of thought neither of you wanted to be in.

-

“You can go home now.”

Jungkook reminded you. “I need a smoke, remember?”

You held your apartment keys and frowned at him. He gave you a casual shrug you didn’t trust. He held onto his backpack and the drink you had bought him, now half-empty. You turned away, licking the side of your teeth. Glanced from all the closed doors around you. You couldn’t shake the tension at your shoulders. Passed by his face. There was something in his expression. You let out an exhale through your nose and shoved your key into the lock, harshly twisting it.

“Fine. Go look for them,” you invited not-so-invitingly.

The door was old and jammed in the frame. You shoved it, hard, and it swung open with almost too much force. You grabbed the knob before it could hit the wall in a practiced motion, crossing the threshold to remove your shoes and scoot them by the wall. He followed, somewhat startled by your daily habits. You ignored him. Instead, you headed for the tiny kitchen with your tuna gimbap, intending to devour it as Jungkook did his search. Chopsticks from the drawer. Taking out the tray of food and placing it on the counter while you balled up the plastic bag to put it in the correct recycling bin. Yanked off the lid and picked up the end piece to eat.

You chewed.

It was fresh. Pretty good.

Without turning around, you removed your hoodie and threw it to the side. It shot to the back of the sofa and clumped. You kept eating. You had already heard Jungkook lock the door, remove his shoes, and dump his backpack on the hardwood floor with a thump. The cigarettes were exactly where you left them. Next to your bedside table lamp with your lighter leaning against them. You ate another piece, staring at the bottom of your gray-stained cabinets, and only now realizing how hungry you were. Huh.

It was eerily quiet.

Weird.

You chewed on your third piece and twisted your body to find Jungkook still standing by the door, staring at your living room with wide eyes. The apartment was quite small. Maybe a little bit crammed. The living room had a black fabric sofa, a dark-stained coffee table that had seen too many late-night dinners, and the TV on a low storage unit.

And mirrors.

Mirrors all over the walls. Most of them were small. Some were vintage with aged metal frames or darkened bamboo frames. Some of them weren’t in the best shape, the reflective glass becoming patchy and spotted. Some were a little more than smoked glass. They were all from thrift stores or resell markets. There was no real rhyme or reason to their placement all over the living room other than chaotically aesthetic. The ones on the bookshelf unit by the window were all lined up. Unique pocket mirrors with various shapes. There were a few anime and cartoon character motifs sprinkled in.

“What the fuck…?”

He finally gave you a look slight frightened concern but mostly confusion.

You shrugged. Casually. “I like to collect mirrors.” You munched.

“No shit?” Jungkook still looked mildly appalled. He furrowed his brows to regain some sort of control over his face. “And you called me a creep.” Still, he shuffled further in, peering over them. “There’s so many of them… The fuck you need all this for?”

“Nothing.”

He shot you a look over his shoulder and quickly diverted his eyes once he noticed your exposed shoulders. “Nothing?” he echoed indignantly.

“There’s no real purpose,” you reaffirmed, grabbing another piece of gimbap with a click of your chopsticks. “Why does anyone have a collection?”

Jungkook snorted. “Collecting music albums or even plushies is less weird then…” He paused. Then angled his body slightly, as if to listen to what you had to say without directly viewing you. “Is there a reason you collect mirrors?”

You, too, stilled. Seeing the back of his head and his broad shoulders suddenly reminded you that this was the first time you had ever invited Jeon Jungkook into your space and rather impulsively at that. You faced the counter again. The gimbap was about three-fourths gone. It was probably a good idea to finish it all now. You chewed on your lower lip, debating on whether or not to tell him the reason.

“When I was young,” you said, directed to the unfinished gimbap. “I didn’t like looking at myself in mirrors. Guess I had some kind of complex about them.” You didn’t elaborate. You positioned your chopsticks over another piece of the roll but didn’t yet pick it up. “When I moved in here, I didn’t really care about decorating it either. Figured it didn’t matter. At some point, I got tired of the blank walls, so I went to a secondhand shop to find something to put on the wall, and I remembered I don’t like mirrors.”

Hated them, really.

“So, I brought one because I thought the design was cool. And kept buying them.”

You half-laughed, mirthlessly.

“I decided it’s stupid to hate something like that, anyway,” you muttered, and chomped down another piece. You should have gotten out the soy sauce. Hah. With self-exasperation, you opened a cabinet to take out the small glass dispenser. Poured a little on the edge of the tray to dip the last few pieces in.

“That’s cool.”

His voice seemed louder, somehow. “You called me a creep,” you hummed.

“I didn’t call you a creep,” Jungkook said behind you.

You turned around, bristling. He was distracted, looking around your relatively neat kitchen. Probably taking note that there were no mirrors here. You restricted your collection to the living room walls to prevent overbuying. His eyes stopped at the gimbap on the counter at waist height. His dark eyes raised. Tentative. Your pulse accelerated a bit. You kept your expression neutral, chewing slowly.

“Thought you needed a smoke?” you asked after swallowing. You waved your chopstick towards the bedroom. “Be my guest.”

The tips of his ears flushed pink. He was sort of looking at you but also not. You tried not to notice that his navy hoodie had fallen off his shoulder, revealing his defined, tattooed right arm all the way to his elbow. His hands were shoved into the side pockets of his sweatpants. He was in the middle of scrutinizing yours.

“Are those mine?” Jungkook asked, completely ignoring your question.

You flicked the side seam by your thigh. “I’ll wash them and give them back. Seemed pointless to wear them for only a short while and wash immediately.” You leaned against the counter. “I haven’t forgotten. Don’t worry your pretty little head.”

His eyes shot up to your face at your comment. You shared a glare. Both of you held it more out of stubbornness than intimidation. For what reason, you weren’t sure. There were only parts of him you disliked. Not all of him. Well. Maybe if you and him dialed back the hostility, then.

Both of you broke eye contact at the same time.

“They… They look good on you.” It wasn’t said in a sarcastic way. The sincerity was somehow more alarming. “Keep them.”

“No thanks,” you retorted with more familiarity than you intended. “I don’t need your charity.” You shouldn’t have said that.

It didn’t end up mattering, though.

“Do you remember when I called you a couple nights ago?” Jungkook suddenly blurted, thrusting you both into whiplash of conversation topic change.

You froze.

There was no cue to tell you what was the right thing to say. It was best to glance at his expression to find out, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. There was something about the distance of a phone call that made deep conversations easier. But you realized from his abruptness that he, too, must have been struggling to bring up the elephant in the room. Could have let it sleep, but this guy wouldn’t let it be.

Still, you understood him.

You pursed your lips and rubbed your collarbone with your free hand. “Only one of us was drunk and it wasn’t me,” you finally sighed. Raised your head.

His ears were very red now. You saw Jungkook battle between being a smartass and his natural self. You saw him wish he was a natural smartass. He cleared his throat, his chest tensing. “Uh… Sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry about… Calling so late.” He cleared his throat again despite his discomfort being purely emotional. His eyes shifted. “I didn’t think you’d answer… But you did.” He chanced a glimpse at your reaction.

You shrugged.

Casually.

He nodded quickly even though you hadn’t said anything. “I don’t remember everything I said,” he rambled in a tone that clearly indicated he did. “So, don’t, uh, don’t take it too seriously.” He was taller than you but it didn’t feel like that right now.

You considered his words and quietly replied with, “Okay.”

His eyes drifted to the kitchen counter. Lingered on your waist, but not for long. He ticked his chin towards the leftovers. “Can I have a piece?”

Wordlessly, you held out the chopsticks so he had access to the other, unused end. He hesitated. Then pulled a hand from his pocket. You moved out of the way as he retrieved the chopsticks from your grip and took a step to be closer to the counter.

It was weird.

Standing in your small kitchen next to Jeon Jungkook eating your dinner leftovers.

Mostly it was weird because it didn’t make you highly uncomfortable or positively annoyed. It felt normal, which is what made it otherworldly odd. As if you were getting used to his presence beside you. You winced and tried not to make it obvious. You heard him try to say your name between bites.

“Chew your food,” you muttered, angling your face away but not your body. Couldn’t bring yourself to watch him eat. You heard the rattle of the plastic tray against the counter as he dipped in the soy sauce. Then you felt a nudge by your arm.

Before you could stop your natural reaction, you were face-to-face with Jungkook who was holding out the last piece to you with full cheeks and an expectant expression. You blinked at him. The blunt end of the chopsticks was used, but he was holding out the gimbap with the slender side. The end you had been eating with. The seaweed glistened with soy sauce. His free hand was under the chopsticks, cradling air in the dire last resort that it fell. He roughly swallowed, looking more annoyed with each passing second.

“Open up.”

“No,” you automatically replied.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

You made a face. “This is weird.”

He made a face back. Disturbing. “Shut up and open your mouth.”

“I wo–”

That was precisely the moment Jungkook shoved the chopsticks into your mouth. Instinctively, you lowered your jaw to catch it all, glaring at him. He scowled back, about to remove the chopsticks before you caught them in your teeth with your mouth full of tuna, vegetables, and rice. There was a brief, pointless tug of war before you pulled your head back rather than let him perform the action. Jungkook squinted at you, irritated, and you were just as perturbed, chewing decidedly before swallowing.

Sudden silence.

He lowered the chopsticks to balance them on the empty tray. You ran your tongue over your teeth to catch any rice stragglers. It became hard to maintain eye contact. Now he was facing the cabinets and you were facing the living room of mirrors. Minutes ticked by.

The quiet became violent.

You whipped your head to Jungkook. “So, what–”

He spoke at the same time. “You know I’m not joking, right?” he asked softly.

His profile was statuesque. Instantly recognizable. Imprinted in memory. And then his dark eyes shifted, his black hair framing his temples, and now Jungkook was searching for your eyes that remained on him. You shut your mouth. He realized he had interrupted you.

“What did you want to say?”

You faltered and then shook your head. “Not important.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t–”

“Joking about what?” you interjected. “Don’t try to distract me.”

He was, rightfully, irate. “You–”

You wrapped an arm around your midsection, suddenly feeling cold. “Is this about you quitting smoking?”

Immediately he noticed. Your demeanor demanding him to answer was a little too intense to be ignored, though. “That’s…” He tutted, his voice deepening slightly. “I’ve already quit.” You raised an eyebrow. “What?” He was trying to unconvincingly convince you. It had barely been a couple weeks, anyway. ‘Ugh, okay, fine. Maybe I bummed a cig a couple of times. But only for a couple puffs. Don’t fucking look at me like that,” Jungkook snapped. “Like you don’t have any bad habits.”

“I have bad habits,” you answered coldly. “But I also deal with how I feel. Something you should get started on.”

He threw up his hands and began to back away from the counter, until.

“Is this how you want to spend your life?” you asked.

His back was to you now. Reluctance took over, rendering his movements as statuesque as he looked moments before. You stared at his back, wondering if you had gone too far. Wondering if these shared moments were all for naught. Not really in the very real chance that he could leave and never look back, but in the very real chance that he did and nothing changed for him. Or for you. In the chance that your interactions would ultimately mean nothing in this life when it was very clear that both of you wanted to mean something. Anything.

“I don’t.”

You looked up and Jungkook was looking back at you over his shoulder. He lowered his gaze when your eyes connected before half-turning to face you, halfway between running to and running from. You asked yourself, if it was anyone else, would you stay this silent? Before it registered, you reached out and tugged his hoodie sleeve.

After all, you did always have a light for him.

He raised his eyes.

“You’re trying. Aren’t you?” You gave him a dry smile before letting go.

His lashes lowered to waning half-moons. Then he ticked his head, asking, “Do you really hate it that much?” His eyes found yours. He already knew the answer and was asking it anyway.

You told him the truth. “Yeah.”

The corner of his lips flicked upwards wryly. “Damn. So honest.”

You almost laughed. “Well… You wouldn’t like me at all if you knew I was a liar.” Then your words caught up to you. “Not that you do,” you added after a beat.

“I do,” corrected Jungkook before looking away.

Maybe he was embarrassed by his admission. You, however, were preoccupied with other thoughts. The mirrors. Your insomnia. His tattoos. His cigarettes. Your coldness. His fire. The way you tended to lock down your deep emotions and the way his tended to spill out when they overflowed. You held the lighter. He longed to burn. You liked him. That thought lingered. You hated the smoking, true, not only because of all the obvious discomforts, but also because you had a feeling that he knew he could quit and only did it to further punish himself for things he didn’t do.

You just had a feeling since you, too, punished yourself for things you didn’t do.

You felt something soft brush against your shoulders.

His hoodie smelled like him, herbal and fresh with depth, with a vague hint of washed-out acid smoke. You glanced over. He looked apologetic, gesturing to your arm over your midsection. His built chest and sculpted shoulders were mildly distracting. His white tank top clung to his body, not leaving much to the imagination. You frowned. Jungkook saw your face and braced himself for a reprimanding.

You asked him a question you had been wondering for a while now.

“Did you plan this?”

That wasn’t what he expected. His features twisted into confusion. “Uh?” He seemed to forget his anxiousness for a moment. “Plan what?” The perfect deer-in-headlights look.

You angled your body to better face him and held the edge of the hoodie, narrowing your eyes. “You know what I mean,” you warned.

He sensed danger and held up his hands in defeat. “I don’t?”

Those big brown eyes begged you to believe him. Either he was stupid or a really good actor. You relaxed slightly. You weren’t banking on the latter and really hoped you were right. You grimaced, backing away. It wasn’t fair to let learned behavior judge him yet constant vigilance was also needed for survival. You sighed, stepping around him.

“Never mind. It’s late. Just sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“The fuck?” Jungkook followed, infuriated, much like the rest of the night. “I can’t do that.”

“The buses aren’t running this late,” you stated matter-of-factly. You waved him away, plopping onto your sofa with a tired exhale. “Or you can call a taxi, I guess. You want money for that?”

He smacked his hand down on the back of the sofa and scowled, bending down to intimidate you.

“I am not some kid!”

You looked up at him.

Jungkook froze, realizing the closeness.

He was naturally a very handsome man. You had always thought so. Never told him. He had probably heard it enough. He faltered, losing the fight but not yet letting go of the sofa. You observed the line of his jaw and thought about how hard he had to work to fulfill the image others had of him. How hard he worked to break that image, only to shoulder a different set of expectations, for only a certain level of coolness could combat the goodness he lost. If not one thing, then another. He must not have felt that he fit those ideals either. He couldn’t win.

You worried that he simply liked you in a vain attempt to feel some level of control.

Crestfallen, his eyes wandered, then realized he couldn’t because then he would be staring down your chest or at your thighs. He pretended that he wasn’t looking and raised his head, saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I feel like I don’t know you at all.”

It wasn’t so much accusatory as it was a revelation.

You lowered your gaze and realized you were staring at his chest or his crotch. That was out of the question. You almost wished he would sit down next to you, but he was right. There was a moment where you considered brushing him off as you did with everyone else. Your eyes connected. As you stared into those dark brown orbs, your instincts taunted you, asking you want you were afraid of.

“There’s nothing good to know,” you admitted. “Better to keep things to myself.”

His expression told you he fucking hated that.

He looked up to the mirrors around the room. You could see he was still a bit creeped out by them and tried very hard not to say it. Your elderly landlord did often joke about how you were inviting spirits into your home with these old mirrors. You usually countered with they also symbolized fate, to which he guffawed and asked how many fates you needed.

Sometimes, it felt like you needed every chance you could get.

“I can’t sleep in your bed,” he finally concluded, steeling himself.

“Your smokes are on my nightstand. So is my lighter.”

The door to the bedroom was partway open but Jungkook even didn’t look in that direction. His ears were slowly turning scarlet. He distracted himself with your statements. “What? Why?” He frowned. “I thought you threw ‘em away.”

You shrugged. “Seemed like a waste of money.”

He muttered under his breath. “Yeah. That’s what they are.” He looked a little ashamed. Shook his head, trying to convince himself. “Even more reason not to go in there and be tempted.” He began to step around your legs, shooing you away with a gruff, “Move.”

You didn’t move.

“You hate my bed that much even though you want to get in it?” you quipped.

Jungkook started. “That’s–”

You stood up abruptly.

It was so fast that he had no time to react. One moment you were sitting and the next you were standing right up to him with only a whisper of breath between your bodies, peering at his face. His hoodie fell off your shoulders and onto the cushions. His eyes widened, lips parting, and you witnessed him holding his breath as if that would somehow stop time.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by.

You wondered how it would feel to be held by him.

“Fine,” you whispered, staring into his eyes. “I’ll get you a blanket and a pillow.”

And you walked around, letting him breathe again.

-

Being awake was torturous due to constantly fighting invasive thoughts. Being asleep was worse due to remaining imprisoned in those intrusive thoughts blended with uncontrolled imagination, which was your presumed explanation for your insomniac nights. Yeah. And people wondered why you kept to yourself. Such was being human, so once again you gave into the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result because it could not be avoided.

Everyone had to sleep, after all.

And you woke up a few hours later, as predicted, wrenching yourself out of a dream you didn’t want to be in, trying your best to remember none of it. You were used to it. Routine of the night, so to speak. That made it more annoying than anxiety-inducing. You laid on your back in relative silence, staring into the darkness of the ceiling and running your fingers over your sheets. A folded portion of the duvet was trapped under your left side and you impatiently yanked it out from under you, forgetting the images of betrayal in the wake of another’s selfishness.

For tonight, anyway.

There was a loud snore on the other side of your bedroom door, offending your ears at this late hour. You sat up. You had been a little surprised at Jungkook accepting your offer. Then again, everything was happening because of split decisions and obvious desires. And some logic. Just not much. You hadn’t talked much after you handed him the extra pillow from your bed and a soft fuzzy blanket. There wasn’t much to talk about, not to mention both of you were trying to pretend as if this wasn’t happening. In movies and television shows, this would have gone in a whole different direction. In reality, it was a lot more awkward and untimely.

You glanced over to the nightstand that held his cigarettes and your lighter, barely making out the outlines of the items. Maybe his initial intention really was to come just to get them. Or maybe it was to put you in a compromising position or something like that. Neither of those things happened because neither of those things were who he was, only ideas of what he thought he could be, but he hadn’t thought any of it through, so now he was snoring up a storm on your sofa without a care in the world.

Unlike you, it seemed like his sleep was solace rather than a battleground.

You tapped a finger against the bed and then sighed, pulling yourself out from under the duvet to grab a large t-shirt to pull over your head. Headed to the bedroom door and opened it quietly, slipping out to the kitchen accompanied by Jungkook’s noisy and uncoordinated nose symphony. He was facing the inside of the sofa but, unfortunately for you and fortunately for him, had powerful lungs. There wasn’t much worry about rousing him. You opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water, hoping the cool liquid could refresh you somehow.

You faced the sink and took a few sips.

Was friendship even the correct word for what you and Jeon Jungkook had? It was more closeness from coincidence rather than a direct seeking out of the other. Closeness that became closer before either of you realized it, slowly losing all the people in between until only you and him were left. Maybe that was why he had a sort of fixation on you since everyone had distanced themselves for various reasons, relationships, careers, adventures. Then again, fixation seemed to be his defining feature.

You almost snorted, and would have if he wasn’t sleeping on your couch.

But maybe not, as he had paradoxical, flighty tendencies too. Always influenced by someone or some media he consumed. You weren’t without your own flaws, you knew. Deep thought and constant existential crisis didn’t exactly make for good company. Sometimes it was better not to think so much, which was why you tried to fight your instinctive nature at times. You looked over to the mirrors on the living room walls, taking another drink. They were small, not very useful as a looking glass or for nitpicking an outfit before leaving. You had not been lying when you told Jungkook that you bought them to get over your hatred of them. There was a time when you hated seeing your reflection because the person in the mirror wasn’t matching up with the person in your head.

Irrational, yes.

Reality was irrational.

You rested your ass against the bottom cabinets of your kitchen and sipped from the water bottle. You knew you weren’t a good person since you had long given up aspiring for something great. Anyone worth anything aspired for something great. Not even failure was frowned upon the in the presence of a dream nowadays. You didn’t understand why Jungkook was snoring in your apartment right now, why he cared if you got home in one piece, why he was trying so hard to quit smoking for someone like you who lived in irreverence. South Korea valued productivity, beauty, and giving away one’s humanity for the cause. Not giving a fuck made you no better than the bottom of the barrel.

You couldn’t answer what he so heavily hinted at because it just didn’t make any sense.

Maybe he was just dumb.

Jungkook snored particularly loud and choked, throwing himself into a coughing fit.

You frowned and made your way over to him as he shrimped up and groaned, highly displeased and groggy from this turn of events. There was no obvious reaction to you approaching him. Either he didn’t hear you or didn’t register where he was.

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Nrgh…”

“You alright?” You kept your voice low, a level above a whisper. “Want some water?”

He said your name as if underwater. Muffled and out of it. You pulled your hand away as he turned over and sat up, squinting hard. “Uh?” He was still wearing his tank top which was now wrinkled around his waist. The top of his chest glistened with sweat. He probably usually slept shirtless and didn’t do so to be polite.

You held out the plastic bottle in your hand. “Water.”

He wasn’t thinking straight because he grabbed the bottle from you without objection, as if he wholeheartedly accepted you were the cold-water fairy of his dreams. He drank without so much of a thank you and with his lips right against the opening, crushing the latter half of what was left in only a few seconds.

“Uwah…!”

He dropped his hand, breathing out hard. You glanced at your empty hand. Comtemplated on giving him a reality check of what he just did but instead decided to let it go.

“Uh… Why are you awake?” he asked you blearily, becoming more awake by the second.

Some truths were better left unsaid for now. “Getting used to your snoring,” you mused, dropping your hand.

Jungkook seemed embarrassed. Looked from the water bottle to the coffee table behind your legs. The distance was too great for it to be casual. He clung onto it for emotional safety. “S-Sorry about that,” he mumbled, straightening his tank top and rubbing his neck.

“It’s probably a side effect of your smoking,” you commented.

He shot you an angry pout but there was no retort when you were right. “It’s probably my rhinitis,” he huffed. An uncomfortable, short silence.

Once again, both of you were reminded of a late-night call in the dead of night.

You held out your hand for the water bottle. After a moment, Jungkook handed it back. Apparently, it still hadn’t occurred to him why it was half-empty.  He seemed more curious about you being awake. You wondered that too. You gestured to the pillow.

“It’s not comfortable, is it?”

He followed your gesture and half-heartedly shrugged. “I’ll be okay.” He shot you a look. “Worried about me?” His deep, sleepy voice sounded a lot cockier than he looked. He looked like a puppy that had just woken up after napping in a weird position. His black hair was sticking up every which way.

“I’m always worried about you,” you replied with a deadpan face.

His eyes widened.

You followed up with, “You’re an idiot.”

That pissed Jungkook off. He reached up to smack you and you caught his hand in the air. That woke him up. But honestly you were losing sleep and energy fast. It made you catch his fingers at an odd angle, almost a caress, and you were too tired to care, sighing before backing away, slowly letting go of his hand. His fingertips slid over the inside of your wrist. You turned your back to him.

You headed to the kitchen and tossed the bottle in the proper recycling bin.

He called your name.

“What?” you grumpily replied, straightening.

“You’re not wearing pants…” Jungkook reminded you.

You had to bend over to access the sorted trash. “Lucky you.”

His tone became gruff. “Don’t be so reckless in front of a guy.”

You half-turned and raised an eyebrow. He was still firmly seated on your sofa. “You act like I’m not standing in my kitchen next to my knives,” you pointed out, ticking your head in the direction of your knife block. “Also, are you implying that you’re a trashy guy?”

“I’m not a trashy guy,” he snapped angrily.

“Then what do I have to be worried about?” You took the steps towards your bedroom door.

“I just don’t like how you obviously have no interest in me,” Jungkook muttered under his breath, throwing himself down onto the sofa and turning his back to you.

You stopped in the doorway.

He was not provoking you. He sounded more like a kid that didn’t get his way rather than an adult trying to reverse psychology you. His words were not meant to change your mind. Yet, all of a sudden, you began to wonder what the fuck you were dancing in this limbo for. All because you didn’t want to be someone’s reason for anything? Well, congratulations, you failed. You failed your dream of a pointless existence. Woohoo. You rolled your eyes to the sky and turned around.

He was still pill-bug-positioned when you grabbed his shoulder and yanked him from the cease in the sofa, lowering your head to hiss, “Stop being a fucking brat.”

You expected him to tense up. His head jerked around and Jungkook stared at you. Wide-eyed, as if you had just pulled him out of a top hat by his ears. You glared, physically tired and tired of this shit, sliding your hand down his collarbone and cupping his chin, pulling him to better face you, tilting your head to narrow your eyes at him.

He sputtered. “W… What?”

“You heard me,” you answered in a clipped tone. “Get up.”

“Huh?”

You let go of his chin and slapped his upper arm. “Get up.”

In a tangle of long limbs and bewilderment, you yanked him up by his forearm, snatching the pillow from under him. Dragged him and his twisted blanket skirt into your bedroom. You hadn’t given him enough time to unravel himself. You let go of his forearm and slammed the pillow onto the empty right side of the bed, pointing rudely to the rumpled poof.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

Jungkook waved his hands, panic rising in his gravelly voice. “I can’t–”

“I don’t give a fuck,” you interrupted and marched behind him, shoving the small of his back. He got the hint after a short flailing about, shuffling towards the side of the bed before flopping onto the duvet like a caught tuna. He tried not to make eye contact, but you weren’t looking anyway, too busy crossing over to the other side and slinking under the duvet.

He squeaked out an, “Um…”

“Shut up,” was your automatic grumble. “Go to sleep.”

He answered in a small voice. “But… What if I snore…?”

“I know you’ll snore,” you grunted, reaching to him and pinning his shoulder down. He was above the duvet, half-wrapped in the blanket you had given him earlier. You had noticed he was still wearing his gray sweatpants so he wasn’t indecent. Not that it mattered. “I’ll get used to it.”

“I…”

You made a growling noise in warning, squinting at his face.

He gulped. “I just… Wanted to say thanks…”

You let go of him and turned your back, firmly closing your eyes. Jungkook was right there. You had a queen-sized bed. Big enough, but not so big that he could pull himself far away from you. You could feel his presence. It wasn’t a bad thing, though.

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled curtly and didn’t say any more.

-

When he opened the door, he looked disheveled and distractable, noisily chewing gum, jerking his head around your periphery as if he expected you to bring an entourage to shake him down. You stood at his doorstep, perturbed. His dark eyes flickered to you and nearly bulged out of his head.

“The hell are you wearing?” Jeon Jungkook blurted without any formal or informal greeting.

You thought you would be used to it by now. It was becoming kind of funny, in a way. “These are my work clothes,” you calmly explained. It was true that he hadn’t seen you in a nice silk blouse and fitted pencil skirt before. Dark teal and jet black, respectively. “I have a job I go to.”

This was the logical answer but it was not exactly the answer Jungkook wanted. You could tell by the knitting of his brows, his still open mouth, and the way he was just staring at your hips instead of continuing the conversation. His black hair was sticking up in the back. As usual, he was wearing casual clothes. A big, light gray t-shirt and charcoal sweats.

You raised your hand and shut his jaw so you didn’t have to view his half-chewed pink gum. “You’re going to the gym, aren’t you?”

It broke him out of his trance. He looked irritated, chewing again. More than that. He looked jittery. “Yeah.” He seemed to be having a mental debate. You wanted no part of that. “I was about to drink a protein shake while waiting for you.”

“Cool,” you said in an impassive tone that indicated you had no interest in protein shakes. You reached into your mid-size black leather bag and pulled out his black sweatpants, now clean and smelling of dryer sheet. “Here, then.” You lifted your head to hold them out.

Jungkook had abandoned his front door.

A muscle in your cheek twitched. His apartment was more modern, although about the same size as yours. Space was a luxury. The door was slowly closing without the aid of someone holding it. You smacked your palm against the light wood and pushed it open, your black heels clicking on the dark gray hardwood. Or was it vinyl? Hard to tell and you didn’t care to inspect. The walls were bright cool white. His big black backpack was on the floor of the short entrance hall. It was slightly open. Black boxing gloves with yellow accents and white towels were shoved in there. You expected him to be messy but all of his sneakers were lined up against the wall. Could use a shoe rack, though.

Jungkook reappeared, gum-less this time, carrying a shake tumbler with a vanilla-colored substance in it, clanging it about with one hand and trying to be chill. As chill as a nonchalant freak-out would be.

He coughed and asked, casually, “You go dressed like that to work?”

You weren’t sure why he gave a shit about what you were wearing. “Perks of an administrative desk job. Dress code.” You waved the rolled-up sweatpants in his direction. “Take these.”

He gave you a suspicious look as if you were the one to decide societal expectations for female office wear. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“The HR department,” you replied, deadpan. “I’d get fired if I showed up to work dressed like you.”

He nodded, agreeing but not convinced. “What if someone hits on you?”

“I set them on fire.”

Jungkook gawked at you.

You dropped your outstretched arm and clicked your tongue. “I don’t do anything. No one is allowed to date a co-worker and I’m not interested in any of them,” you explained. If only he knew that you sat alone in a cramped office and reviewed budgeting for university laboratories so no one was heedlessly using government funding. It was thrilling stuff. “Why do you care if someone hits on me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course, I care. I don’t want some asshole harassing you.” Before you could tell him to look in the mirror, he muttered, “Do you really think you won’t get hurt looking that hot?”

The real answer was that you didn’t care.

You tossed his sweatpants onto his backpack while saying, “Workplace harassment is very serious. I doubt my superiors want a scandal. You’re right. I’m considered attractive, so they want to keep me as a model employee and for gender equality points.”

“What about the train?” Jungkook pressed, stepping closer.

You almost rolled your eyes. “The subway is always shitty. Everybody knows that,” you said. “I’ve been taking the subway since high school. I’m pretty good at spotting psycho now.” You looked up at him with contained venom. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that,” he snapped, placing his protein shake on the floor before confronting you again. “I just don’t like it.” He glared back.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t like that I can take care of myself?”

“No,” Jungkook stubbornly repeated. Frustration crept into his features. “It makes me mad.”

One look at his face and it was obvious what he was implying. There was no reason to give in, though. “That sucks.” You patted the top of his chest condescendingly. “Maybe you need to see a therapist for that.”

He jerked his head towards the mound on his backpack. “Take the pants back and put them on.”

You wondered if he was being this way because he had paranoia or because he had nothing better to do. “No,” you refused. You crossed your arms. “Don’t be this way only for yourself. Plus, I just washed them.”

Like an ox, he didn’t relent. “Then I’ll get you a different pair.”

You noticed you didn’t smell the scent of smoke on him. Not strong or faint. It was obvious he didn’t smoke in his apartment, but he probably did at the roof of the complex or somewhere similar. You didn’t know him to be a heavy smoker, but it inevitably got onto his belongings. You tilted your head. There hadn’t been any smell that night a couple weeks ago when he slept over at your apartment where you had eventually forced him to snore on the bed.

You had woken up to Jungkook sprawled out, snoring into the pillow and one arm on your tits.

Explained your dream where you felt annoying pressure on your chest. That morning had been rather uneventful other than waking him up and kicking him out of your apartment. You had the decency to be more polite than that, but neither of you were in a state to talk about it. Neither of you seemed to be morning people. You simply told him you had work. He had mumbled he did too, and he had to race out to get ready in time. Only now had you found time to stop by his apartment to return his borrowed sweatpants. Maybe you had been avoiding it a little bit. Texts between you both were sparse. Asking for his address and asking if he’d be home. You peered into his dark eyes. Jungkook paused. He seemed to sense that you weren’t walling him anymore.

“When was the last time you smoked?” You made sure not to sound accusatory.

He started. “Uh…” He looked sheepish. “I’ve been trying to last a month at least…” He gestured behind him to what you assumed was the kitchen. You could see part of his living room from here but not much. His couch was cognac brown leather. “Been chewing gum and going to the gym a bunch to fight the cravings.” Frowned and sighed. “It’s hard,” Jungkook bitterly muttered. He glared. “Bet you’re loving this.”

Unluckily for him, you weren’t intimidated by puppy growls. You nodded, noncommittal, and looked down. His charcoal sweatpants looked soft. Worn in with wear. Your eyes flickered back up. His followed with slight confusion etching into his expression. You held his gaze until you felt his discomfort.

And then you made an impulsive, instinctive decision.

“I’ll agree to borrowing another pair of your pants,” you finally said. He looked relieved. “As long as I get to pick which pair.”

He seemed puzzled but shrugged. “Sure?”

You pressed for confirmation. “Agree or not?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook responded sharply. “What, you that desperate to raid my closet or something? Go ahead, then.” He waved a careless hand into the apartment.

But you stayed where you were. You stepped forward with a click of your heels. He stepped back in his house slippers, bewildered but still defiant, not yet realizing that you were not herding him further inside. He moved as if to let you lead the way, except you turned your body to block him, watching his every move.

His shoulder blades hit the wall.

Those big brown eyes blinked slowly. “Uh…”

You glanced down and then back up at his face.

Jungkook’s eyes tracked your movement. Didn’t get it. You repeated the dip of your chin and lashes, then back up. Dead silence. It slowly dawned onto him. You cocked your head, removing your crossed arms as his eyes became wider.

“W… What…?”

You didn’t let him hide his reaction, tracking every quiver of his lip and awkward chuckle. “They’re clean, aren’t they?” you asked as if it was the most sensible question in the world.

“Uh, well, yeah, b-but…” Jungkook stuttered, trying to decipher how serious you were or if he was even understanding the implications of your stare. “T-That’s…”

You backed up a step. “Then it’s a no?” you offered. “And you will stop trying to white knight my outfit choices?” You made yourself clear. “I won’t be changing them simply because you hate my clothes.”

His eyes narrowed. “I don’t hate your clothes. I like them. That is the problem,” he barked.

You gave him a blank look.

Jungkook sighed out of his nose before looking away and saying in a clipped tone, “Fine. I’ll change. Whatever.”

You moved before he could, blocking his way again.

He growled under his breath, glaring down. “What?”

You held aggressive eye contact. “We’re behind closed doors,” you reminded him. Gave him the pointed up-and-down. “Go on.”

Slight panic laced into his expression. “Uh… Are you serious?”

You already knew Jungkook wasn’t commenting on your fashion because he thought it was inappropriate. It was for the same innocuous reason that you were asking him for the charcoal sweatpants he was wearing right now. Well. Demanding.

“Deadly,” you answered him with a deadly smile.

He might be bigger and stronger than you, but he lacked the imposing audacity. You waited. He didn’t move. Ten full seconds passed. You had your answer, then. You gave him a curt nod and readjusted your grip on your work bag, about to turn away.

A strong hand wrapped around your wrist and gently pulled you back.

You backtracked to stand in front of him again. His eyes darted about somewhat nervously. “I get it…” he mumbled, still holding onto your wrist. His other hand was drifting down. He seemed uncomfortable but not in a bad way, which struck you as odd. He lifted the hem of his shirt a bit. It caught on the front tie of the sweatpants. The tips of his ears were pink. Jungkook hooked a thumb under the waistband and averted his eyes.

You reached forward and pulled on the end of the looped strings.

He nearly yelped and jerked back, causing the tie to come unraveled. You had leaned over a little to get access. Lifted your gaze to look up at his shocked face. He was speechless. You didn’t straighten up yet. Just stared into his eyes. His lips parted but no words came out.

You smiled.

He uneasily let go of your wrist. You backed out of his personal space. Jungkook gave you a strange look and stripped off his pants with a swift tug downwards, bending a knee to kick them up and into his hand, immediately holding them in front of his body.

“Here.”

He thrust the balled-up sweats into your chest. You looked at it. Then at him. Then tried to crane your head downwards.

“H-Hey!”

He waved wildly. You stumbled. He tried to catch you without dropping anything. Your hand came up to press against his chest, causing him to back against the wall again, clutching his pants in front of his crotch. You paused and searched his expression as you pulled back your hand. He was in between conflicted and stunned. His legs were quite defined. At least he didn’t skip leg day. You decided to do it. Lowered your bag to the floor so you had use of your two hands. You reached behind you for the invisible zipper of your skirt and pulled it down. Jungkook seemed to be in a perpetual state of silence. You had to wiggle slightly to free yourself of the tube of black fabric, stepping out of it primly before standing back up, leaving you in your sheer black stockings and with your blouse barely skimming the tops of your thighs.

Now both of you were holding your bottoms. One of you was simply dumbstruck. The other folded and rolled up the skirt, tucking it into your elbow, and stepped up to him. Immediately, his free hand shot up, planting right above your left breast, dark tattoos stark against his tan skin from the overhead light.

“W-Whoa, wait…!”

You tilted your head and rested your hand on the sweatpants he was now desperately clutching to his lower body. You tugged. He did not let go. You raised an eyebrow and began to lower your head. His fingertips hooked under your chin and yanked you back up to his terrified expression of wild eyes and fish mouth. You remained emotionless, giving him nothing. His cheeks flushed pink.

“I… I just need a second–”

You closed more of the distance, placing a leg in between his slightly open ones. His grip on your chin tightened. It didn’t scare you in the slightest. In contrast, big bad Jungkook looked like he was about to sink into the floor. You stilled. Maybe this was too far.

You leaned back a little but didn’t remove your leg. “A second for what?”

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze again. “U-Uh, j-j-just a s-second to breathe… that’s all,” he muttered.

“What’s the issue?” you calmly inquired.

“N-Nothing,” and that sounded like a whole lot of something.

You shifted your leg and your stocking-covered shin rubbed against his calf. Jungkook made a very strange noise and hastily pulled his hand back. You did not stop the contact. You simply watched the emotions play across his features as he shut his eyes, wordlessly mouthing swears before clenching his jaw and sliding up the wall to delicately back up.

“You sure it’s nothing?” Twice as unassuming and immediately tipping him off that you were aware of his predicament.

His brows furrowed. “Shut up.” He took in several deep breaths.

You hummed. “Is it that big of a deal?”

“Yes, it is,” Jungkook hissed. He cracked open one eye. “Have you no sense of danger?”

You did your best not to smile. Failed, but only just. “Not with you.”

Relief and annoyance washed over him. “Shut up,” he said again and you were beginning to realize he did not really mean for you to shut up. “Ugh.” He thrust the charcoal ball of fabric into your chest. “Here. Put it on.”

“No longer embarrassed?” you asked, catching a glimpse of his partial erection.

Jungkook pointedly looked away from you and stared at his own front door. “I’m not embarrassed. Put the pants on, damnnit. I can’t look at you.”

“Sure, you can,” you quipped as you slipped on his sweatpants. “I’m sure you’ve checked me out at some point.”

He sucked in the side of his cheek sharply. “It’s not the same. And, besides…” He trailed off.

You smoothed out the front and tightened the strings. Jungkook reluctantly brought his gaze back to you, checking you out. You tugged your blouse out of the pants a bit to give the two disharmonious pieces more balance. You filled out the top of his pants a bit more because of your ass. The whole ensemble was a little odd, but only if one looked too closely.

He frowned. “Why do you look good?”

“It’s the heels,” you absentmindedly replied. “Besides, what?”

For a moment, you thought Jungkook wasn’t going to respond. But then his eyes raised, locking to yours determinedly. “If I can make it to a month, then…” He faltered before regaining his composure. “No, I will make it to a month. And all the rest. But when you see how serious I am, then… Then I want you to seriously consider me.”

Now it was your turn to avert your eyes. You didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Guilt settled as you realized that he was more intuitive than you gave him credit for. But you came back to him, eventually. His dark brown orbs lit up as you spoke.

“Sure.”

-

In a surprising turn of events, Jeon Jungkook actually greeted you with a breathless, “Hey,” for once when you answered his call, only to follow that up with, “The fuckin’ gym is closed, fuck.”

You blinked at your phone, put it on speaker, and tucked it into one of your upper kitchen cabinets to prop it up. It was not a video call. However, your hands were currently occupied. “I’m sorry,” you replied dryly, turning down the vent fan.

“Ugh, I really needed it today,” he grumbled, mostly at himself rather than at you. You heard the sounds of traffic and the white noise of wind. “And it’s cold tonight, hmph.”

You mentally calculated the day as you picked up the plate and tongs again. “Why was it closed? It’s not a holiday as far as I know.”

“I dunno. Note on the door said family emergency, so I guess I’ll find out later from the manager,” he said absentmindedly. It was a bit weird that Jungkook was treating this like small talk when he almost never called. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do or say about his predicament, so you began to place the slices of meat onto the hot pan, which immediately began loudly sizzling with popping oil. It must have picked up on the microphone. You heard a startled noise and then, “Whatchu doing?”

“Making dinner. And meal prepping at the same time, since I’m already cooking,” you replied, nudging the slices to fit all the meat in. Hm. Wouldn’t be the first time. Hm.

“What are you making?” He was sounding a bit too eager.

“Braised vegetables and pan-fried samgyeopsal,” you answered, reminding yourself to check under the lid. The bok choy and enoki mushrooms were just barely done. You quickly removed it from the heat before returning it the sizzling pork belly.

“Ugh.” He sounded jealous. “I’m jealous.” Guess he was. You found yourself smiling and quickly stopped, lightly adding a little flaky salt before starting the process of turning them over. You might die from a heart attack but not without a full belly of pork belly. “You’ve made me hungry. Maybe I’ll go get some ice cream.”

You mused. “Gym closed, so ice cream on a cool night is the solution?” The edges of pork belly were becoming that sweet golden caramel. Your kitchen was becoming decadently fragrant.

“This night is shit, anyway,” Jungkook complained. “I’d come over but you’d kick me out.”

You paused at his words. Then you busied yourself with taking the plate to the sink while raising your voice so he could hear you. “I didn’t kick you out last time.”

There was a short muteness that your both mutually agreed on before he sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll go home without the ice cream.”

You tutted. “I’m not the food police. Go get your ice cream if you want to.” You began to portion out the vegetables into the glass tupperware that you had already lined up.

“Nah,” he muttered. He really enjoyed this seesaw, huh. To be honest, you didn’t mind it. Maybe calling it fun too out of line, but. “I shouldn’t go into the convenience store, anyway. I don’t wanna break my streak.”

Only stubbornness could solidify self-restraint, it seemed. You checked the pork belly. It was done, so you turned off the fire and began to plate up your soon-to-be and future meals. Took less time because you had boiled the samgyeopsal first to keep the meat tender, removed it before it was completely cooked through, sliced it, and then pan-fried to completion. You plated the last of the vegetables, added the final helping of pork belly, and drizzled a bit of soybean paste on top. A small part of you wanted to take a photo and send it to Jungkook. Rub it in, perhaps. You picked up your phone and opened the camera app.

“Hey.”

“Uh?”

You filled the photo space with a close-up shot of your simple meal and sent it to him. “Check your messages.”

There was a scuffle and Jungkook grunted before gasping and then bringing his phone back to his ear. “Hey, fuck you.”

You couldn’t help it. You laughed.

“Man… You suck.” He didn’t know the half of it. He was mumbling a tantrum on the street. “Ugh, now I’m so hungry... And mad. I’m mad at you.”

In between tee-hees and bites of your dinner, you placed your phone onto the counter. “If you buy me lunch, I’ll let you have one of mine,” you joked. Mmm, the meat was cooked just right. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

“No… I can’t do that,” he grumbled, taking your joke seriously. He scoffed. “Instead, I’ll bring a steak and make you cook it for me.”

“Steak?” You considered his suggestion. “Sure, I can cook steak.”

“Hah, see, you won’t – wait…” You heard a sputter and what sounded like a tumble. Or maybe the beginnings of one caught in the middle. He did have good reflexes. “O… Oh.” He sounded winded. “I thought you were… Thought you were gonna refuse.”

You nibbled on some delicious enoki mushroom. “Why?” You knew full well why. Just wanted to make him squirm. Also, him thinking you couldn’t cook a steak annoyed you. As if you didn’t know the value of medium rare. Hmph.

“A-Ah… Well.” He coughed and promptly changed the subject as embarrassed people do. “Are you eating right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’s very tasty. I did a good job.”

You could him suck in an inhale of childish disappointment. “I’m suffering here.”

“No one is asking you to.”

“Hmmmm, I don’t like this.” And yet he stayed on the line. It sounded like he was jogging the streets. Maybe trying to arrive home faster and keep his body temperature up.

You imagined it. Then you told yourself to stop that. “Do you have something to eat at home?”

“There’s probably something,” Jungkook puffed. “Probably not as good, but I’ve got freezer stuff. I can cook, though,” he insisted.

You hadn’t questioned it. But you did now. “Hm, really?” You half-smiled in between bites of bok choy.

“Yes, really.” Very adamant. “Someday,” he added, in the tone of someday proving it.

You remembered the last time he was in your kitchen. The last time he was in your apartment. You looked down to the cropped black t-shirt and the familiar charcoal sweatpants you were wearing. The scene was set. Still, it didn’t clarify how to feel about it. Answers were usually simple. Believing them was a different story. He called your name. Without thinking, you answered right away.

“Mhm?”

“I’m home,” Jungkook grunted.

Maybe you supposed to pop confetti. You let it go and asked, “Less angry about your lack of gym time?”

“Not really.” But he did sound less stressed somehow. Maybe it was the cardio of the jog. “I guess I gotta find something to eat now. Lemme put you on speaker.”

The number of times he could have hung up increased. And yet he hadn’t done so yet. You were almost finished eating. You could have ended the call right now. Said you were busy and done your chores without further distraction. It just didn’t feel right. That said enough. Well, at the very least, you thought you should accompany him on his food adventure.

He exclaimed loudly. “Ah! I found some corn ice cream at the bottom of my freezer! Nice!”

Your palm made contact with your forehead. “I guess you must be the gods’ lucky one,” you mused, mopping up your last bite. Time to clear the kitchen. Sad.

“You know it,” he cheered.

You heard him ripping open the plastic with gusto. Would have sounded cocky if it wasn’t for his barely audible happy noises. You began to tidy up the kitchen to distract yourself. Putting away spices, collecting the various cooking utensils into the sink, wiping down counters, putting the lids on the now cooled-down meals. You stacked them in the fridge. You didn’t try to hide what you were doing but, then again, Jungkook was seemingly too mesmerized by his ice cream to speak. Amidst your domestic tasks, you saw the parallels of being in the same place in your respective apartments, both together and apart at the same time with only a thread of technology connecting each other, and you glanced at your phone screen, wondering if he had hung up on you. The call was still active.

Such a mundane existence.

And yet.

You stood by your sink, the washing up the last to do, and you abandoned it to stand by your phone. It seemed so… annoying to have simple enjoyments taken away by complicated thoughts. Maybe there was a better word for it. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that you were listening to Jungkook enjoying his small happiness of the day and wondered if he intentionally or unintentionally shared it with you. Wondered if the intention even mattered in the face of what was.

You broke the relative silence. “When do you want me to cook that steak for you?”

The faint sound of licking lips. He must have scooted closer to his phone, because the volume of his words was louder than the sounds from earlier. “Uh…” You waited. “I think my one month of no cigarettes is coming up soon. Maybe then…?” He trailed off awkwardly.

The crumpled pack was still on your nightstand next to your lighter. You hadn’t touched either. They were collectively collecting dust. You opened your mouth, reconsidered, and then said what was on your mind.

“I never hated you just because you smoked.”

Maybe it was better that you couldn’t see each other. “Yeah, but…” He let out a breath. “It was the reason why you didn’t want to be around me.”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I get it, though,” Jungkook muttered softly. “I didn’t really want to be around myself either. Maybe I haven’t had any great failures, but… That means I haven’t had a chance to grow from hardships. Coasting, sort of. I need to push myself to be better, because I’m definitely not where I’m supposed to be.”

Your eyes raised which caused you to realize you had dipped your head. You wondered who put those thoughts in his head, but the answer was all around you. In the subtext of conversation of strangers, friends, family.

“It’s weird,” he continued, maybe forgetting you could hear him slurp in between words or because his ice cream was rapidly melting. “I was talking to a friend about you and he asked me if you ever needed anything from me, ever.” He sucked in a breath. “Tch. I kinda hate that, but also it made me realize… Isn’t that the most natural I’ve ever been with anyone? No expectations… Maybe even negative.” He laughed a little, and you could imagine him shaking his head. “Is this how you want to spend your life? No. I want to be someone that you might need someday.”

You didn’t say anything about him talking about you to other people. It was slightly funny of him to think of you as an enigma when you felt that you were so simple, really. Maybe that made you the root of his complicated thoughts. Maybe not. He was right in that you did your best to not depend on others, even going out of you way to not need others. Not expecting anything from them to not be disappointed. You didn’t see that changing anytime soon, but, an exception?

All rules had them.

“I’m looking forward to making you that steak,” you chuckled. “I need to finish up the dishes, so I’ll let you go. For now.”

“A-Ah…” Jungkook cleared his throat. “Okay. S… See ya.”

You half-smiled. Even though he couldn’t see it, you were sure that he could hear it in your tone. “You will,” and you ended the call.

-

You found a small package addressed to you in your mailbox. No return address, no postage, but it had relatively neat handwriting that seemed familiar somehow. You tucked the soliciting letters under your arm as you re-locked your postage box. The packaging was brown paper. You turned it over in your hand.

For your collection. Jeon Jungkook.

You almost snorted. He could have. But he didn’t. You suddenly felt odd, so you quickly walked back to your apartment, shouldering your mail and your work bag, fitting the small package into your palm. The mail room was on the ground floor. You went up the flights of stairs to the far-left unit. Unlocked your front door and went in, using your shoulder to push it open.

You closed the door behind you before you opened the brown-paper wrapped parcel.

The outside packaging unfurled. Tissue paper and a bit of foam. Something told you he didn’t pack this. This was the work of the elderly who sold it to him. Smooth steel. But you felt something on the side against your palm. You turned the disc around. It was one of those snap-close clay art mirrors. The kind delicately handmade by a practiced artisan’s hands. You ran your finger over it, entranced by the ridges and matte texture. The focal point was the gradient of orange depicting tiger lilies. The background was black, making the small imagery stand out.

Tiger lilies, huh.

You opened the pocket mirror and saw your bewildered expression staring back at you. Your initial compulsion was to look away. Your intrusive thoughts interrupted, asking you if you really hated what you saw. You looked and your reflection looked back. You lifted the mirror slightly, inspecting your makeup. You barely wore any to just barely get away with it at work. It still looked good.

You half-smiled.

“You’re so fucking full of it, Jeon Jungkook,” you chuckled, tucking the mirror into the pocket of your work bag before going about the rest of your night.

-

He was quite excited for steak day until you made him speechless.

“U-uh, hey! Ahem. Hey. I have the steaks. You didn’t say if I should bring vegetables, so I also got cabbage, carrots, shitake mushrooms, I didn’t know, I guessed, sorry, and I can help cook if you need someone to watch the vegetables while, uh, I can chop or clean or anything at all… um, why are you dressed like t-that…?”

If it was his plan to greet cool, calm, and collected, he failed. You opened your apartment door to gum-chewing, wide-eyed, rambling Jeon Jungkook wearing a baggy but heavyweight white button-up and dark blue jeans with white contrast stitching. Black belt with a bright gold buckle. The hem of the jeans draped well over his black laced boots. His black leather jacket was jammed in the crook of his elbow with the groceries. His jacket had silver zippers, which didn’t match his belt. The button-up was done all the way up to his neck, which didn’t suit him.

You let him go on his rant and tried not to smile.

The situation was not exactly funny. It was obvious that he was out-of-sorts by the frantic way he was gnawing on his gum like his life depended on it. You had to wait for him to take a breath. He was too far gone in his speech for you to interrupt him. You almost dared to call it adorable. Didn’t because that wasn’t part of your image even though clearly Jungkook had completely broke the image he wanted to craft for himself over his entire time of knowing you. For his sake, you pretended nothing was amiss. You simply took the groceries from his hands while saying, “Change of plans.”

His jaw was slack. You could see the pink wad of gum stuck to his molars. Lovely. “E-Eh?”

You noticed his black hair looked a little messy and windswept. It was longer now, too, giving him an unintentional rockstar vibe. Thankfully his brain was too preoccupied with being unable to catch up to the moment to notice you noticing him. You backed up into your apartment to place the bags on your kitchen counter, busying yourself with putting everything into your refrigerator.

“I want to take you somewhere,” you said to the shelves of your fridge, clearing out space. Oh, wow. He really did buy high-grade steak. Two of them. And a giant head of cabbage. “I don’t like carrots,” you commented. “But I’ll make them for you and you can take home the rest.”

He sputtered with the elegance of a caught bluefin tuna. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t – T-Take me somewhere?”

In the middle of placing the last thing, the bundle of carrots, into the fridge, you said it.

“Yes. I want to take you on a date.”

To be honest, you weren’t sure if it would come out as confidently as you heard yourself, but there was no going back now. You had debated before this day had come, turning over the tiger lily pocket mirror in your hand at night. Debated if the unwillingness was worth it and decided it wasn’t. You weren’t sure if Jungkook was thinking the same thing you were, but then he showed up. Over-dressed. Vibrating with nervous energy. Talking too fast. One look at him and you knew. You could think you had all the time in the world, but it wasn’t true. You turned around to see Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression at the entrance of your apartment and you knew.

Despite never believing in anything and thinking everything was going to shit, well, you might as well go down with a feeling of a life well-lived.

“A d… date…?”

You closed the door of your refrigerator. “A date. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you?”

He looked like he hadn’t. “I… uh… Yes?” You had meant the light jab to bring Jungkook back to Earth but both of you were currently stuck on cloud nine. “Is that why you…?” His hand raised and made a vague gesture.

Your own hand raised to smooth back your hair from your bare shoulder. “Ah. Yes.” Since your closet was mostly made up of comfy, work, and concert outfits – in that order – that amount of classy date pieces were slightly nonexistent. You had one black dress made of a slinky soft ribbed texture that was what you ended up wearing. It reached the floor, which suited the night climate of this time of year. The rest of it was quite sexy, though. The fabric made the dress cling to and accentuate your curves. The straight neckline and thin straps were maybe too flattering. Jungkook’s eyes were certainly wandering to the general area of your collarbones. You usually wore this dress in a very specific way, which you intended to do so tonight, but it couldn’t hurt to let him admire.

Yeah.

Admire was definitely the word.

Just like how you were letting him admire you walking up to him, sending him into a mild panic, knowing exactly what you were doing but trying not to think about it, instead focusing on what had been bugging you ever since you had seen it. “This… I’m sorry, but this doesn’t suit you,” you muttered, unfastening the first few buttons of the shirt and shaking it out to a more relaxed collar. He smelled good. Oh, wow, he smelled very good. Bergamot and cedarwood, it seemed. “It looked too stuffy.” You noticed the thin gold chain underneath. Oh. Perhaps the unintentional mixing of gold and silver was intentional after all. You righted the chain so it was more visible, his warm skin under your cool fingertips, and maybe you were imagining it or was that a shiver between you and him at the contact?

Your hands awkwardly hovered over his chest.

It was hard to look up but you made yourself do it.

Jungkook seemed startled but at the very least thawed from the initial shock. “O-Oh, but…” Surely he was not staring at your cleavage. Surely. You might have put it right in his line of vision, but, surely. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s c-cold outside. At least…”

It was certainly an exaggeration to call it slow-motion, and yet somehow that was the only way to describe it because now you were the one frozen in extended seconds as he tumbled his leather jacket into his palm, grabbing it by the collar and lifting it up, up and to his left hand, flaring it out with a loud flap before draping worn-in warmth over your shoulders. The sudden weight caused you to tilt forward lightly. Your open palms pressed against his chest to steady yourself. His hands stayed on your shoulders. Both of you were staring at each other for too long.

At least no one was here to record it.

He spoke first. ‘I, uh, I took a lot of my clothes to professional cleaners,” Jungkook said quietly. “Since… It gives me a good reason to not… It cost a lot.” His ears were probably as red as yours.

You inhaled, raising your chest, and noticed how new the leather smelled despite him owning it for a while now. Your faint smile was now inevitable. “I really appreciate it,” and you did. He didn’t have to, and he did.

The light in his eyes must have been your imagination. “R… Really?” Or maybe not. He was breathless and there was no obvious cause for it.

Never in wildest dreams and insomniac nights and daytime silence full of running thoughts could you have created this present time where you felt that you saw him and he saw you. From all the gray haze moments of the past to those bright uncertain days of small happiness in the future, you knew you could do it alone, but, for once, it seemed unbearable to do so.

You leaned up and kissed him.

Your eyes had closed as you tilted your head to close the distance. Maybe you should have considered seeing his surprise. Maybe you were too nervous to. It was only a simple press of lips-to-lips. Still, you found respite. A strange tingle shot through you as you felt Jungkook kiss you back. Somehow, you felt his relief of you taking charge of a moment that he had wanted to happen for a long time.

After a savored moment, both of you broke apart.

Afraid to overstep. Slightly shocked that that just happened. You snuck a peek. It was impossible to not call him adorable and thankfully you were too high off the moment to say anything. He caught your eye. You let him, gracing him a coy curve of your lips.

His cheeks bloomed pink. “Y-You… You wanna wear my jacket?”

You lightly shook your head, reaching up to touch the back of his hand. “You’ll be cold. I was going to wear a sweater over my dress,” you explained. His expression fell a little bit despite your logic. “But I wanted to wait to see what colors you were wearing so that I could choose something that pairs well. It would be nice to match somewhat, right?” Immediately Jungkook perked up again.

It was just a damn hot pot date. Why were you both grinning like idiots? The world never did make any sense, hmph.

-

In spite of best efforts, you dozed off on his shoulder.

Dinner had been a little bit awkward. Not so awkward it was unpleasant, but enough where you had to pull yourself together to bring him back to his usual self. You wore a fluffy, thick, cropped white sweater over your black dress, giving you some much needed warmth for the cool night and giving Jungkook back his sanity. Then you took it away by hooking your arm into his, holding onto him as you both rode the train in thoughtless silence. The hot pot restaurant had newly opened and was packed with curious customers. In a stroke of luck, the host managed to find seating due to your small party size. After a brief explanation, you made a beeline for the lineup of ingredients. It had taken a mountain of vegetables, shrimp, and fishcakes on a plate to break Jungkook out of his trance.

“W-Woah! You eat that much?”

You had tilted your head. “We’re sharing. Duh.”

A flash of annoyance. “How do you know what I like to eat?”

“What don’t you like to eat?” you countered.

Jungkook puffed a cheek. “That’s not the point!”

It wasn’t the most deep of conversations. Still, it did bring you both some peace to know that you hadn’t lost what you already had. There was always that fear and it was good to know that the fear was unfounded.

“I only want one egg.”

He spoke over you, “Too bad, you’re getting two,” using one hand to crack another to poach in your boiling bone broth. You made a face at him as you mixed minced onions and garlic into your chili oil, sesame oil, and soy sauce combination. He waved a third egg at you threateningly. You were adversely terrified. He became distracted by your concoction. “Let me try.”

“No. I’ll make you your own.”

“We’re sharing.”

“There are limits,” and you promptly walked off to do just that. For his credit, he didn’t snatch your hard work. Might have been because his food wasn’t finished cooking yet. Semantics. “It’s my treat, by the way.”

Irrtation was going to permanently furrow his brows if he wasn’t careful. “I don’t need your charity. Besides, you’re hurting my pride as a man.”

You cried for him. “Boo hoo.” Sarcastically.

“You’re not paying.”

“You wanna fight?”

His dark eyes narrowed. “Kinda if you keep this up.”

You pretended to lift your sweater.

Jungkook almost threw himself over the two boiling pots of broth. “Gah! What do you think you’re doing?!” He tried not to yell, hissing low between his teeth. “You’re crazy!”

“Putting you in your place,” you answered dryly.

His expression was between flabbergasted and aghast. “D-Don’t do that!”

Not the deepest of conversations. You smiled. He noticed, and looked away quickly, his ears turning pink as he busied himself ordering plates of meat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to cook the steaks like you had originally promised. It would have made a great first date, even. And yet. Yet, you didn’t want to, because for some reason following the original plan felt symbolic of something ending instead of a beginning. You were confident in your cooking, and still the possibility of even the slightest failure made it so that you couldn’t relax. Maybe it was selfish to drag out a promise. Nothing about Jungkook’s demeanor indicated he was against it, though.

“What?”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out in his direction. “Nothing. Just…” He frowned. You almost wanted to ask him if he was disappointed by this turn of events. He was already shoving a plateful of thinly-sliced flat iron steak into his hot pot. “Just realized we’re only here now because of a cigarette and a lighter.”

His eyes cast downward. “I’m sor–” he began.

“Who knew a bad decision could turn into such a good one.”

Jungkook snapped his head back up, surprised. You gave him an impassive expression complete with a raised eyebrow. The corners of his lips tugged upwards. He tried to hide it. He wasn’t as good at it as you were.

“Yeah. I guess…”

He sounded a little too happy for that lukewarm response. You reached into your bag, pulling out a pocket mirror to needlessly check your makeup. He noticed the tiger lilies nestled in your palm and positively beamed. You did your best to wipe your stupid smile off your face and clipped it closed to resume the meal. The rest of the dinner was similar. Well, largely focused on how many plates of shabu-shabu meat both of you could consume to make the restaurant regret seating you. At the very least, Jungkook had been impressed with your gall.

Points gained there, heh.

So, now, in spite of best efforts, Jungkook leaned his head against yours and dozed off with you on your sofa, curled up under the same blanket he had used to sleep over some nights ago. Sleep came a little too easily with full bellies. He had asked if he could sit down for a bit before heading back to his place. Because, you know, it wasn’t good if he became drowsy while driving his motorcycle. You had shrugged, casually, turning on your television to whatever late-night show was on to provide some form of mild entertainment. Distraction, really, so neither of you felt pressure to talk.

Turned out, falling asleep told you more than any conversation.

It might have been the food. The comfort of the blanket. Someone familiar being there. Whatever the cause, the stars aligned and you knew what it meant. One instance of sleep arriving quickly did not mean that you would never have a restless night again. It did not mean everything was different. But it did mean that what was already there wasn’t a lie. You thought you had done enough to spite him, but best efforts were useless in a wake of loud, hard-headed, brash Jeon Jungkook. It shouldn’t work. You were reclusive, blunt, guarded. An unfathomable match, and yet you could never seem to shake him. Apparently his fondness for you was so strong that continued meetings were inevitable. The prospect of the next time had become a regular instance. Monotone days were suddenly saturated with unexpected melodies. You kept telling yourself there was nothing else better to do than to put up with his antics.

There had been no real reason for you to believe that he would change.

He just did so he could define his own ideal of worthy.

Unconsciously, Jungkook was sinking into the cease of the sofa, into dreamlessness, taking you down with him into the cushions. You dozed practically on top of him, unknowingly nestling into his waning embrace. If you had your wits about yourself, you might have given him more conspicuous space, but he was so warm that you forgot that you didn’t typically like physical touch. Or maybe you didn’t mind as much because you knew deep down that he liked it. It was a small sacrifice for his happiness. Something like that. Ah. Right. Anyway, eventually you awoke to no-context ruckus on the television screen. Annoyed, you pawed for the remote on the coffee table and blindly turned it off. You wouldn’t have even bothered to open your eyes except for the fact that you were clearly on top on Jungkook, oh, and so you blinked slowly, line of vision shifting, realizing he wasn’t asleep.

He was pretending to be.

You placed a hand on his chest. One of his eyes cracked open. You raised an eyebrow. He almost jumped out of his skin. Probably not expecting you to be staring at him.

“Were you watching?” you asked.

“N-Not really…” Discomfort laced into his expression. “Um… You’re on my left knee a little weird.”

You shifted quickly. “Sorry.”

Relief. “No, uh, I fucked it up a bit while boxing a couple days ago,” Jungkook sighed. You could feel his inhale through your hand on his chest that you still hadn’t removed. “Think I hit it at a weird angle.”

You pointed out the obvious. “You’re not supposed to use your legs in boxing.”

He sent you the gift of a classic eye-roll complete with the bow of a scowl. “I lost my balance and fell.”

You calm expression didn’t change as you added, “Bad knees are the first sign of aging.”

His dark eyes narrowed into slits. “You–”

And proceeded to grab you by the waist. You shot up instinctively, straddling his hips, and your hand on his chest slid up. His eye went wide. He froze. You froze, realizing what you were doing. His hands were loosely around your waist with his fingers flaring out over the top of your ass. You moved your hand, resting it on his shoulder. Not on the offensive but on edge. You did your best to hold his gaze while in the precarious position. He immediately apologized.

“S-Sorry.”

“No, ah…” You shook your head. “I’m sorry.” You shouldn’t have moved to choke him out just because he was horsing around yet it was hard to really know with men these days. Still, thinking of Jungkook in that way after everything he had done for you was unfair. “I’m too used to having to protect myself.”

There was a sea of regret in those dark brown orbs. “I wasn’t going to…” Hurt you, and that part was obvious. He frowned, realizing your reaction and words said what needed to be said without saying it. “I promise. I’m not like that.”

You stared into his eyes. “I know,” and you did.

His expression became determined. “No, really.” He frowned. “I can’t help–”

You cut him off. “Is that why you have a hard-on right now?”

Dead.

Silence.

The cushions of your sofa were old, causing your knees to sink in further due to the prolonged concentrated points of pressure. You looked down. He looked up. Nobody moved. You had thought about it. Maybe. Not in any deep sense so as to not set any unrealistic expectations. He had very clearly thought about it if the rising tent of your dress in between your legs was any indication. You weren’t able to fully sit down on his crotch due to space constraints, but, even with jeans on, the distance down there was dwindling.

In short, Jungkook was obviously packin’.

You raised your eyebrows. He grimaced. He was trying not to stare at your thighs spread over him or how easily your waist fit in his hands. “Listen… Uh.” Brave of him to break the silence. “I… I’m not a disgraceful kinda guy, okay? I wasn’t planning anything. And I’m seriously serious.” His voice deepened as his eyes darted about. “Serious about…” His gaze lifted, navigating to yours.

Your lips parted, understanding him perfectly well.

However, your dress was stretching too uncomfortably. Distracted, you broke eye contact, reaching down to yank the hem from under your knee while extending your other leg to the ground to maintain balance. The fabric bunched up to your hips, draping over his lower body. You felt the friction of his jeans against your bare inner thighs. Then, you felt the friction in his jeans pressing up in between your legs.

Well.

That would be the expected result, huh.

Jungkook was beside himself. “W-W-What are you do–”

You raised your head. He stiffened. Everywhere. He was still holding you by the waist. Time was moving too fast and too slow at the same time, much like whatever this was. You made eye contact, diving into those wide eyes, searching for something to be afraid of. The scariest thing about all this was how readily he matched up with your intent to cross all the lines.

“Do you wanna kiss me?” you asked him.

His voice quivered. More out of poorly contained excitement rather than anxiousness.

“Are you crazy? Of course I wanna fuckin’ kiss you.”

There was no good reason for care-about-nothing you and caring-too-much Jeon Jungkook should match up well, and yet perhaps that was precisely the reason these puzzle pieces fit together. He lifted his torso from the sofa far too easily, meeting you halfway. With one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on his chest, your lips brushed against his. Inhale, and his warm citrusy cologne mixed with his natural scent filled your lungs. He tilted his head, closing the distance. There was no pressure of a good first kiss as it was already over with. He pulled you closer.

A kiss was not particularly special, but everything about him was.

Terrifying.

As the saying went, you felt the fear and did it anyway.

Lips to lips, electric. Your fingertips gliding over his skin, spreading the button placket before descending, unraveling him like a flower, your tongue tracing the edge of his lips. His breath hitched. His hands on your waist tighter, turning, and you adjusted accordingly, letting him sit back against the sofa with you on his lap. His fingers slid under your sweater, fanning over your back like unraveling petals as you unbuttoned his shirt, drinking in his gasps. Sinking deeper. He tugged your sweater upwards and you released him for a moment to lift your arms, arching your spine, shedding the white onto the floor. His hands on the small of your back lifted you in return, and you arrived to the view of his own white shirt barely clinging onto his shoulders, revealing tan skin and his hard work at the gym.

Your eyes trailed upwards and Jungkook hesitantly smiled, uncertain of what you were thinking.

You dipped your head and licked up his chest.

“Whoa, wha–aah, f-fuck…”

Perhaps this was a strange thought but you felt this compulsion to taste his skin. You pushed his head back and crossed his neck with kisses. Teeth. Tongue. You felt his fingertips press into your back, his hips rise, a moan bubble up in his chest. He tried to speak between gasps, his hands sliding down to your ass as you licked up to his jaw, intoxicated by the taste of his skin.

“I didn’t r-realize… o-oh…”

You flicked his earrings with the tip of your tongue, dissipating your breath so it was whisper soft against his jaw. “Deep down, you knew there was more under this surface,” you murmured and as you said it you thought of black water but the reality was reflected all over the walls, in small snapshots of mirrors from older and modern times. Yes, a mirror was the more apt imagery. Your tongue coiled around his ear, whispering his name low and slow. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t think you were crazy…” Jungkook gasped. He pressed you down onto his lap, hiking your dress up further. An exhale drifted past your ear. “I didn’t say I didn’t l-like it…”

With a single finger, you turned his head to face you. Half-moon eyes hazy with lust. He ticked his head, putting on the bad boy front you always knew was a front, and you rocked your hips against his to create the rhythm. He sucked in a breath, your name on the tip of his tongue, and you placed your lips against his temple to ensure that he could feel every word as much as he could hear it.

“No matter who came before you, I hope you outmatch them all.”

He viewed you from his periphery.

You smiled in a dangerous way.

There was the briefest moment where he mirrored your smirk and then he lowered his head, catching you off guard with his lips against your pulse. By instinct, your fingers laced into his black hair, tilting your head to give him more access. Your eyes wandered among the walls. In smoked glass. In craved frames. From every angle, snapshots of Jungkook kissing down your neck and you pulling the straps of your dress aside, pressing his head downwards. His lips over your collarbones created an intricate network of pinpointed pleasure, blossoming, overlapping, your nerves singing. You hooked a finger down the center of the neckline, dragging it to a risqué level. His warm breath washed over your skin.

Anticipation on a knife’s edge.

You gazed down through the shadows of your lashes. He was watching you through his own. Wondering without words. So many times Jungkook had asked for a light to ignite his addiction. You saw the writing on the wall before he did.

You tugged the top of your dress downward.

“Fuck…”

You fanned your hands over your ribs pushing your bare breasts upward. Little did he know there was a shelf bra in the dress. Probably didn’t care. He clenched his jaw and frowned slightly, his cock throbbing from below. You could feel it because you were sitting on it.

“It’s annoying that you know how hot you are. Stop knowing how to act hot too.”

You wondered if he ever looked in a mirror. “That’s rich coming from a guy that works out to make his chest big.”

He pressed his lips together before grumbling, “So…?”

You lifted you body and put your tits right in front of his face. He tried to throw you off as his lips made contact, but then was immediately distracted with the taste, running his tongue over your nipple with a moan. Strong hands on your waist again. Your own hand slid down the crown of his head, sliding in between the collar of his shirt and his shoulder muscles, caressing them as you felt sparks from his light sucking. He kissed across your chest to access the other and you breathed out, electric and erotic, your nails turning inward.

His groan was gravelly, rough from pleasure.

“Ugh, fuck, scratch me.”

You dug your nails inward and he whined into your chest, sucking harder, flicking his tongue against your nipple. You moaned to the ceiling, arching your back, and now both of your hands were on his shoulders, creating a crisscross pattern of pink under his shirt collar. There was no rhyme or reason, only instinct. Jungkook growled, taking a swift moment to yank his arms out of his shirt before pawing at your hands to explore more, touch more, repaying you with divine lips and tongue. Either he liked pain or he loved pain. Hm. You had your opinions but you kept them to yourself.

You laced your fingers into his hair, arching your back. He extended his tongue and instead of him licking upwards, you curved your body downwards, only losing contact when it was physically impossible. You lowered your head slowly. Your tongue traced your lips. He was breathing in shallow, perfumed breaths tainted with your taste. Pupils dilated. Under the influence.

You stared into his dark eyes. “You can still stop.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. I was in it before you were.”

He wasn’t wrong. Time moved too fast and too slow at the same time. You slid off his lap, gripping the side of your dress and pushing them down your hips. He rose, entranced, and you backed up, out of the way of the coffee table. In the room of mirrors – the living room – clothes began to slide to the floor one by one. Your tousling of his black hair had made it gone rogue, draping over his eyes as he tugged the back of his shirt out of his pants and let it fall. You took another step back while reaching forward, pulling apart his belt buckle. He glanced down as he was tugged forward. With one eye on you, he pulled the strap from the pin. You held the buckle. Pulled. He guided the black leather to smooth exit. For a few moments, you had him by the leash of his belt, dragging him into the bedroom.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

From the look on his face, he remembered.

You held onto the belt after it made its escape, twirling it around in your hand. Jungkook’s dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t.” You didn’t say anything and that was more alarming. “Do not even think about it,” he warned, his tone becoming lower, gruff. You smiled. You flicked your wrist and he halted.

You coiled the black leather around your thigh.

Tightened it by crossing the ends.

Oh, he was looking now.

“Don’t what?” you taunted, turning as you reached the end of the bed. Instead of lifting your knee to the edge of the mattress, you gripped the crossed straps of his belt and hoisted your leg upwards, adding a little bounce of your ass as you looked over your shoulder.

He didn’t expect the showmanship. His mouth squeaked out an, “Are you serious?”

Muscles, tattoos, and he still didn’t know what to do with all that. Your other hand grazed the curve of your ass to the hem of your seamless panties, hooking a finger over the edge and tugging it towards the center dip.

“Okay, fuck, you’re gonna make me bust in my damn jeans,” Jungkook muttered, looking annoyed at the tent in his pants. His hand was already undoing the button. You smiled, releasing your leg, walking over to the nightstand by the bed. The box of unused cigarettes was still there along with your lighter. You only glanced at them, dropping his belt to the side and opening the drawer, pulling out a string of condoms.

Turned around and Jungkook shot you a disbelieving look with his cock sticking out of his pants. Still in his boxer briefs, so obviously hard that he was past the open zipper. You didn’t back down, approaching him with his death sentence dangling from your fingers.

He tried not to seem flustered. “You’re busy, huh?”

You stopped in front of him, tilting in your head. “Busy waiting for you to make a move.”

He sucked the inside of his cheek. “Tch. Am I supposed to believe that?”

“You tell me.”

You sat down on the bed, placing the condoms within easy reach. Crossed your legs. Stared into his eyes, daring him to believe that you were lying. You saw bite his lip. Looking you up and down, so you did the same, watching him shove his jeans down further. You ticked your head.

“Or maybe just don’t fall for my tricks, hm?”

And you fell back onto the bed, lifting your legs, reaching under. Put your weight on your shoulders while you hooked your fingers onto the sides of your panties, pulling up, up, slipping one leg out. Then the other. Flicked your wrist and sent it flying. Then you spread your legs to reveal his stunned face.

You pulled a condom oof the line and held it out to him.

He looked uneasy, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them away. “Uh… You sure?” He tried to sound calm but his voice was shaking. He was trying to flip it on you.

You smiled. Casually. “I give you permission to find out.”

This did not ease Jungkook’s worries. He was too busy to staring at your pussy to formulate any more sentences, though. He took the condom from your hand, pushing down his black underwear. You looked. He saw you look. Confirmed that he didn’t work out because he was lacking in his pants, that was for sure. Your gaze went back to his face. He didn’t know what to think about your reaction, because you purposefully didn’t have one.

Instead of speaking, you reached down in between your legs and spread your wet lips.

Lowering your lashes. Slow smirk. Jungkook sucked in a breath and ripped open the condom. His underwear was sliding down his legs, but you were too busy being fixated on the way his arms moved, carefully rolling down the condom as he watched your fingertips trace your slit, drawing circles around your clit. The heat turned into wetness. He moved closer. You curled a leg around his hip. He put a hand on your thigh, positioning himself over you. Made eye contact. You looked back curiously, spreading the upper lips of your slick pussy.

He slid the bottom of the slick head against your clit and made you both moan from the contact.

Rubbed, slowly. Your insides throbbed with need. The lubrication made it even better. You pulled your hand back and tipped your hips upwards, and then he slid in. He gasped, his inhale catching in his throat. The hand on your leg tensed. You pressed your calf into his ass, pushing him deeper.

“F-Fuck, what–”

Your expression must have indicated that you were going to shove him in yourself, because Jungkook took one panicked glance at your face and thrust in, loudly swearing. He shut his eyes but you caught a peek of them rolling upwards as you dreamily sighed from the feeling of fullness, squeezing all around to feel more, the pressure becoming pleasure.

“You can move.” Just in case he wasn’t sure.

“Shut up,” Jungkook snapped back, shifting his hand to grab your thigh, yanking you into his crotch. He cut off his own moan by clenching his jaw. You smiled. Sweetly. He glared as viciously as he could, which wasn’t much, and thrust hard enough to make you both gasp. He was resisting from commenting about your tightness. “Stop smirking at me like that.”

You tested fate.

“Make me.”

The light was playing tricks. Or maybe his hair was casting shadows over his darkened gaze. Or perhaps this was possession of passion that made him lean down. Locked gazes. He covered your mouth with his free hand. You let him, waiting to see where this would go. He began to move. Slow, deep, building the heat between your joined bodies. Staring into your eyes, and you stared back, clenching your core to increase the unfurling bliss, so damn good, watching his lashes lower, his lips parting, heated breath drifting out like invisible smoke. You raised your hips to meet him, moaning into his palm. He bit the edge of his lower lip, the tiny mole centered underneath suddenly visible.

Your tongue traced his fingers, dripping saliva.

He spread them, entranced by the way you thrust your wet muscle in time with his hips, coiling towards the small finger tattoos you knew he had. Jungkook swore under his breath, gripping your thigh harder, but he wasn’t reaching the force you both craved. With reluctance, he removed his hand from your open mouth, watching the charming curl of your tongue disappearing in between your lips before gripping your other hip with his wet hand, cocking an eyebrow at you.

You reached back and grabbed fistfuls of your duvet, bracing yourself with an open-mouthed smirk.

He thrust hard and you rose to meet him. Both of you cried out at the radiating smack of force between bodies. Nothing for show. Just pure raw lust, chasing the high, giving into the lust. Heat into tension. Your back arched. He pulled you to him. You squeezed him all around. With each loud slap you felt pleasure ripple through your body, making your breasts bounce to his rhythm, and you let out a soft moan, sensing the ripple turning into a cascade, your insides tightening, closing your eyes once the vicious throb overtook your hips, drowning in orgasm.

“Oh, fuck–”

Jungkook didn’t even get to choke out his surprise before his own orgasm hit him. You felt his fingers dig in, snapping your bodies together. His drawn-out groan became the sonata to the punctuated sensation of inescapable euphoria. Wet. Hot. You gasped at a jolt of ecstasy rattling in your ribs. You felt his cock jerk inside you as his hold on you lessened, switching to kneading your thighs. Your brain was so hazy that his touch seemed to amplify the addictive heat, your legs closing in, keeping him in place.

“Could’ve… fuckin’ warned me…”

He panted hard, squeezing your ass roughly. You didn’t care. It was hard to when his slip to his Busan dialect was so attractive. You reveled in the bliss for a moment longer before lowering your legs, realizing the source of the heat was Jungkook whose body seemed to be ten thousand degrees. He pushed back his hair, revealing his glistening brow and cheekbones. Gasping for breath. He pulled out before stripping off the condom with a hiss.

“What am I supposed to do with–”

You sat up, using your elbows to lift your body. It was harder than you thought because the aftermath of tension had left a residual tremble throughout your nerves, but you ignored it, living on determination alone. Jungkook started, not expecting you to move so quickly. You didn’t give him time to react, reaching down between your bodies.

“A-Ah, don’t…!”

He stuttered, gasped, then moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head. Slippery. Hot. Covered in lube and cum and now your fingers wrapping around his length, finding him half-hard. You gave him almost no pressure but all contact, glossing over the shaft until his cock swelled in your hand, ghosting over the head with your palm. He bit back a yelp, not yet opening his eyes, almost whining. His reaction drove you, sliding forward a bit to the very edge of the mattress. He held his breath. Snuck a peek. You angled your body to expose more of your inner thigh and lifted him.

His eyes widened.

You sandwiched his cock in between your palm and your inner thigh, sliding your body back and forth to stimulate him. He inhaled sharply, shooting you a look of indignation, and yet his hips began moving anyway. You gradually increased the pressure. His head tipped back, groaning to the ceiling, becoming harder and harder with each stroke.

You reached over to the condoms and held them out.

Jungkook lowered his head. “Seriously?”

You lifted your hand from his pulsing, wet cock. “Saying you don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that,” he retorted.

You pulled one off. He handed you the used condom. There was maybe a second and then he gave back the empty foil wrapper in which you tucked the used one into, folding it carefully so there was no spillage. It wouldn’t take long, anyway.

Part of you wanted to say that, but you held your tongue.

Hands on the back of your thighs, lifting your legs. Jungkook pinned your knees to your chest and slid back in, lowly growling, “How the fuck are you so tight,” but you were too enveloped in the sensations, wet and hard and your inner muscles closing in, molding to the shaft. The swollen head hit that depth you could really feel, and you sighed, lifting your hips. His hands slid off your legs and hit the bed, sandwiching you in between the bed and his hard chest.

Your eyes locked with Jungkook’s.

It was intense, rough, carnal. You forgot your surroundings, clutching the duvet and his tattooed forearm, matching each slap of your bodies with a breathless gasp, your calves on his shoulders, his erratic breath melting into shuddering moans. You were moving up the bed little by little from the force. Your name slipped from his lips. Your pussy clenched involuntarily and then the rapid thunderous pulse overtook your senses. He lasted a little longer this time after your orgasm, but not much longer, succumbing to the vicious call, burying his entire length inside you and gritting his teeth to muffle his moan in his chest.

It should have ended there.

You could barely breathe. Suffocating from your own thighs. After an erotic, elated eternity, Jungkook lifted his upper body, gasping apologies. You could barely hear them, orgasm still ringing in your ears, having to relax your muscles one by one. The bed was a mess. Duvet bunched up. Condom wrappers garnishing the ground. Clothes all over the floor. Your legs crossed, sliding down. Jungkook was standing somehow and you could tell that even he thought that was a miracle. He offered a hand. You took it, letting him shakily pull you up to your feet.

His breath washed over your cheek.

You looked up at him. His dark orbs shifted towards you. Waning. You tilted your head. Half-moons. Lips to lips. You drank in his exhale, kissing him deeply. Still electrified. Hands all over, igniting fire over skin. His lower body bumped up against your thigh. Slippery hardness pressing into softness. The scent of sex clung between you and him. You reached down. Touching him. Stroking his cock with your fingertips while kissing him. You felt his hand snake between your legs, sliding two fingers into you. One by one, your fingers closed in. He stroked your clit before thrusting his fingers back in, swallowing your moan into his throat. You began to slide your hand up and down. The combination of lube and cum delivered that delicious friction that he was looking for. At this point, the fervor was so intense that the pace was fierce, fast, a contest of who could get each other off faster while in lip-lock.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth.

Jungkook sucked on it, pushing a third finger into your soaked pussy, all the way up to his knuckles. You welcomed it, working his entire length, jacking him off tight and harsh, and all of a sudden he let go if your tongue, gasping with a pinched moan, his hips jerking forward. Hot spurts of milky white shot down your inner thigh. Not much, but definitely enough to witness and feel. Something inside you snapped and you had to grab his shoulder to avoid falling over, your nails digging in a halo as your pussy spasmed, sucking in his fingers with a wet squelch, your legs snapping closed to extend the feeling. Breathless moan against his ear. You leaned against him with your juices leaking down your legs and sticking to his fingers.

Delicious.

Satisfyingly ragged. Blood pumping. Both of your bodies burning, or at least yours was and his chest was alarmingly sweaty. You slowly untangled your hands from each other but they lingered low, suddenly realizing how much needed to be cleaned up.

“Uh…” Jungkook panted. “I’ll help…”

He better. “Yeah. We should, hah, clean up.” Your tongue traced your lips. “Then sleep.”

“I didn’t bring clothes,” he mumbled distractedly.

You lifted yourself from his shoulder. “I still have your sweatpants,” you reminded him.

His dark eyes slid towards you. He tried to frown. His eyes were too eager and sparkly for that. “Oh. Yeah…”

“You can go home if you want,” you offered while naked and with his cum sticking to your thigh.

He sucked on the inside of his cheek sharply. “You can’t say sleep over and then take it back.”

“Then take it in the first place.”

“I was gonna,” Jungkook snapped, and grabbed your arm, pulling you in for another kiss.

-

“Did you mean it?”

The room was relatively clean now. The trash was appropriately in the trash. The clothes had been lumped into an ambiguous pile on your dresser. Teeth had been brushed. You had set aside a spare toothbrush for his use only. Seemed appropriate. He was not wearing his sweatpants. Turned out that was not his preferred way to sleep. It wasn’t yours either. He was only in his boxer briefs and you were only in your panties. Your bodies were now minus each other’s bodily fluids.

“Mean what?”

You tried to yank the duvet into a more acceptable orientation before climbing in. After a pause, Jungkook lifted the other side and tried his best to settle in.

“That you were waiting for me to make a move.”

Tried his best because he seemed to be distracted by the conversation. You adjusted your pillow and nestled in a section of the duvet that was not that close but not too far away either. It was a king-sized one for a queen bed. Plenty of sharable coverage. You didn’t interfere with his routine and he didn’t with yours. You took the time to think.

“Hm.” It wasn’t wholly true after all. “I didn’t know if you were going to make a move or not.” He snorted under his breath but you ignored it to finish speaking. “After the first time you stayed over… It was more that I figured being prepared was better than not being prepared.”

“That’s…” He sounded uneasy.

“I can’t live hoping for something that might or might not happen,” you said without facing him.

He seemed annoyed. “Why not?”

You pointed out the obvious. “I don’t think you should change your life only to appeal to me. You should do it for yourself.”

“Well, I did,” Jungkook grumbled. He cocooned himself in a good chunk of your duvet. That was the tell of a blanket stealer. You would have to keep an eye on him. “I quit for you. It was always you. It’s happened already, so accept it.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

He grunted. “Just like how I shouldn’t have started smoking in the first place. Guess that’s the kind of shitty guy I am.”

Silence.

He wasn’t facing you. You were looking up at the ceiling. Closed your eyes because there weren’t any promises up there. The promises were always next to you. He seemed cold, but you knew better. He didn’t know how to be a cold person. He tried his best and it was a constant failure.

“Aren’t you happy you broke that people-pleasing of yours?” you asked softly.

There was a short, reluctant pause before he muttered, “You’re a butt.”

You burst out laughing. Big, muscly, tattooed man curled up in bed with you retorting with a child’s insult was too funny. Jungkook growled, rolling over to shake your shoulder with contained fury. You kept laughing even when he gave up and took the pillow out from under him, repeatedly bopping your torso and legs with it. There was no strength behind it. Plenty of salt, though. You opened your eyes mid-snicker and looked over to him. His arm was extended over to you. His black hair was all over the place. He shook his head like a Doberman and scrunched up his face. Frowning. On the verge of a pout, really. He could have looked madder. He would never make it as an actor. Your laughter died out.

“You were gonna totally back off if I didn’t have condoms?” you teased.

He looked exasperated. “Seriously? I’m not some untrained dog who hasn’t eaten in days! You… There’s plenty of other choices we have! I’m a good guy!”

You smiled. “I know.”

He immediately stopped protesting. It was as if all the fight drained out of him. There was a whole universe in those big dark brown eyes. And then it occurred to you that, back then, Jungkook could never quite meet your eyes even though he was always looking your way. Every day came with a dark night. He would ask you, got a light, and you would hold up the flame, shining light into those dark eyes when he used to lean in.

It was strange, then, to see the light that was there when now his eyes locked with yours.

No lighter required.

“You really tried to pass off as a bad guy. Almost fooled me, even.”

His eyes narrowed into slits. “Ugh, fuck you.”

“You did,” you quipped.

Jungkook flung the pillow behind him and scooted alarmingly close. You instinctively tried to move out of the way but there was no more bed to escape to. His strong arms wrapped around your shoulders and dragged you back to him, threatening you with, “Shut up. I’m hugging you.”

You failed to listen. Classic. “I didn’t ask to be hugged.”

There was a foreign tingling feeling that raced all over your skin. Not from the physical closeness, but from the other kind of closeness. You felt your shoulder bump against his firm chest. He even threw his leg over your hip and yanked your legs closer, cocooning you with his frame. You almost thought he was trying to extend the night.

Instead, he simply latched onto you like a barnacle.

“I don’t care. I’m a bad guy. Hmph.”

Quiet.

You placed your hand on his forearm just under your breasts. This was going to become very hot and sweaty in the long run. But you let it be. You didn’t want to let go either, even though you weren’t exactly doing the holding on. You used your other hand to drag the duvet back up under your chin. He didn’t stop you. You felt him squeeze you a little tighter once you were comfortable, as if to confirm. You patted his arm.

“Your hand is too hot,” he complained in a mumble by your ear.

“That sucks,” you said and didn’t move it. He didn’t try to shrug you off either. “I’ll make your steak tomorrow.”

He pretended to gnaw on your shoulder. “We can’t have steak for breakfast.”

“Why not? We’re adults.”

“That isn’t what adults do.”

“Then I give up on being an adult.”

“Me too,” he huffed. He perched his chin by your head. “Alright, I’m down.”

You debated on telling him. Telling him why you purchased the lighter in the first place. Even before him, it constantly stayed in your pocket. It only came out on the darkest nights when the insomnia was the worst. A flame and a human life followed the same trajectory. At night was when the flame danced the brightest. You would watch the flame dance. Contemplated. Extinguished it. You even did your due diligence of refilling it when it was low. When Jeon Jungkook appeared in your life, you ignited the flame for him without much thought. That was, after all, the intended use the lighter. It made sense to use it as such. You found yourself reaching for it less because, well, what if you ran into him? He would always ask and you would always provide. When he had handed you his barely-used pack and said he was done, you too gradually began to leave the lighter behind. The two objects had begun to collect dust night after night. Untouched. Originally your lighter wasn’t for him, and yet.

That small flame had led him to you.

The universe planned well.

“Hey, Jungkook?”

“Uuh?” He sounded very sleepy and not quite conscious.

“My lighter was for you, after all.”

“Mmmm…” He nestled closer and squeezed your arm. “That’s good.”

You smiled as he drifted off to sleep. He still snored, although less intensely. His grip on you relaxed but was no less meaningful. Slowly, the exhaustion caught up to you, and you went willingly, following Jeon Jungkook’s path to dreams. You would have to get used to this new routine of the night.

--

masterpost

[lustlovehart]

You Gotta Kiss The One

A/n: This isn’t my usually writing, so this is more short scenario rather than actual story, so sorry if it isn’t my best. Anyways, I was in need of some fluff for the twst men so here we are. (This came out a bit cheesy honestly) Also, unfortunately no Jamil because i went through 7 drafts for his part and hated absolutely all of them.

Pairing: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo x Reader

Summary: [Fluff] In a turn of events, it seems you’ve lost your voice, and it’s up to the one you love to give out the cure, a kiss from their lips to yours.

Warnings: Cheesy Fluff, Reader wasn’t meant to be Yuu but they’re friends with Grim so, 50% Yuu.

Unfortunately, making potions with Grim never goes right. One moment, you’re carefully adding in the newt that assists in projecting a beautiful singing voice to its recipient, and in the next your head gets shoved in the concoction. When you finally emerge, your throat attempts to sound out your criticisms of Grim's recklessness. But, your lips are the only thing that moves in motion, your voice not even croaking out a word.

“Why ain’t yah talkin'?” Your hands quickly grab onto the recipe book pointing at the bold disclaimer at the bottom of the page.

If the potion is consumed before the newt is added, it will have the opposite effects.

Before you can read the rest of the text, your companion snatches the book from your hands, reading the rest of it on his own. When Grim reads out the instructions, your eyes narrow when you hear a slight chuckle escape from him when he tells you your only solutions. It’s either never talk again or...

Of course, never talking again has its pros, but, if you don’t have your voice, however will you tell… Him, about your feelings…? Of course, you could just write your confession, but that doesn’t have quite the kick words spoken from your chest do—

"Uhh... seems you gotta kiss your little crush [Name]!"

…

"What."

Before you're allowed to interject, Grim is already reaching his paw up and taking you by the hand, not even allowing you to tell Crewel about your situation. You’re quite sure if you had just told him you could’ve avoided the whole dilemma. Alas, Grim’s very eager in bathing in your embarrassment.

—————

Riddle is fuming at Grim's carelessness, it’s already bad enough that you have no magic in this faraway land, but to be subjected to a potion that doesn’t have a real cure? That’s even worse. He most definitely beheads the feline after he hears about the situation, immediately sending him onto a time-off corner, prattling on about how he should’ve been listening to the rules and acting accordingly in class.

His lecture is cut short at the sound of scribbling, his head turning to look at you furiously writing down on a piece of paper. Your lips are straight-lined as you lift the words to his face.

“Grim said the cure is a kiss.”

Oh… his mouth opens to question you more about this so-called cure, though the heart shape you form with your hands, however, is all the information he needs. It’s unfortunate that it only works if you kiss whoever it is you “love”, he could’ve gotten away with kissing you under the guise of helping if it was just anyone who could kiss you—

Who’s he kidding his face is close to turning red at such a thought. Of course the cure is something so basic, true love. Ah, no not true love, just simply a crush. Yes, a crush.

A crush that can’t be him.

He stays composed externally but internally he can’t deny he’s a little disappointed, it doesn’t matter however, he’ll help you get this kiss from your mystery student, even if it hurts a little to watch. The sound of flipping paper attracts his attention once again.

“So kiss me. Please.”

… What…? What…?! What?!

His eyes widen at the words, his mouth agape at the statement, his skin quickly flushing at the thought. You. Him. You and him. Him and you.

He’s essentially frozen in place. But, the extremely quiet sound of a broken up “okay” signals to you his permission. The feeling of soft lips being placed on his own snapped him out of his trance. He blinks a few times at your face, a smile invading your mouth.

“Thanks Riddle.”

—————

Your hands are furiously shaking Leona's shoulders, despite your relentless attempts at awakening him from his slumber, he doesn't even tell you to stop.

He didn’t even show any signal of stirring when Grim practically shouts to you about getting that kiss from him to “fix yah up”. Didn’t show any sign when you threw one of his shoes at the cat either.

He might be dead, he’s pretty still, like a corpse… Nah, he’s just being a douche.

Carefully, you drop down to his level, your face smooshed into his mattress as you look at his sleeping face. He looks a lot more peaceful in his sleep, his face is less serious and a bit more softer. He does look like a prince from a fairytale when he’s asleep, actually, maybe more of a princess with how pretty he is.

If you had your voice, you’re sure there would be hushed chuckles leaving your throat as you take out your phone. Your fingers are quick to swipe open your camera, lifting the device to Leona's face. Your joy doesn’t last long though, as when you’re just about to take a picture, the sight of Leona stares back at you on your screen, the subdued expression he previously held replaced with his usual face.

“What do you think you’re doin?”

…He’s awake! You’re quick to open the notes app, ready to explain the whole thing to him, along with indirectly confessing your feelings, unfortunately. But, he seems to think differently, as your phone is swiftly snatched from your palms and placed on his nightstand. When you reach over to grab it, his arm pulls you back down, your head buried into his chest, essentially being used as a secondary pillow for him.

“That typing’s loud, i’m tryna sleep.” … and I’m trying to get my voice back.

No matter how much you struggle, he doesn’t let you go. After a few minutes of trying to get your phone back, you give up, becoming his human-sized plushie in your defeat. Maybe he’ll be in the mood when he’s awake. So, your eyes gradually shut themself, sleep taking you over as you wrap your arms around the lion next to you.

…

“Hey, quit talking in your sleep.”

“Hmm…? Oh sorry— Wait what…?!” His palm flies of your mouth as words get muffled in his skin.

Appears you missed the Leona Kingscholar, kissing you. That’s unfortunate.

—————

“Hmm…? You need my help yes? Well then just sign here and I’ll get you that kiss you need!” Azul slips the golden contract across the table, the con man smiling as you read through the fine print.

In the corner, you notice the extremely tiny text saying how you’ll be obligated to stand by his side for the next month and do whatever tasks he needed to be done from you.

You swiftly slide the paper back to him as your head vigorously shakes a firm “No”.

“Oh? Do my terms not satisfy you? Your situation sounds very similar to our princess from the Coral Sea, having to kiss her prince for her voice back. I wonder how you’ll get that princely kiss…” he shrugs his shoulders before sighing, grabbing a stack of papers along with a pen, waving you off before looking at the sales revenue from this week. “No matter, if you don’t need my help please exit, I am a busy man—“

Your hand slams on the surface of his desk, his pupils widening at the sudden outburst. He stays silent for a moment, the glimmer of his glasses covering your view of his eyes. If you had, you would’ve seen the slightest hint of longing in him.

“A very determined soul you are… I'll change your conditions if you want your voice back so bad.” His fingers snap, the old contract disintegrating as a new one forms in his hands. “No fine print, I’ll help you get your kiss, and you work for the Monstro lounge for 2 weeks. Just 2 weeks. Is that a deal?” You squint, looking to make sure there really is no fine print. When you’re assured there really is none, you take a pen from his gloved palm, writing your signature on the line.

“It’s a deal it seems, now, tell me who it is you have affections for, and I’ll make sure you get that kiss—-“The sudden pull of his collar stops him mid-sentence, your lips connecting to his own before pulling away.

He’s extremely flustered, his cheeks blushed, his hat lopsided, eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He did agree to get you that kiss, but… he truly wasn’t expecting you to kiss him…! Of all possible candidates at the school…

“Wha… I’m… Huh…!?”

You straighten your posture before rolling your sleeves up, “So when do I start Azul?”

—————

Your eyes watch Vil meticulously crush, stir, and drop different ingredients into the cauldron, each one changing the color of the liquid inside. To be honest, you’re a little disappointed he knows a cure, you’ll have to wait another time before really confessing to him. His well manicured fingers take the ladle into his hand, carefully pouring the bright drink into a bowl, handing it to you as his eyes await for you to drink it up.

When you do, you set the bowl down, ready to speak, but no sound comes out. Your eyes stare into his, confusion set in your irises.

“I thought you had a dry throat?” Oh, you shake your head, your index finger pointing toward the cauldron and signaling poorly acted-out explosions and screams. “So it was a failed potion?” You pause for a moment before remembering what unit you were on in class. “It was that singing potion wasn’t it?” He contemplates for a moment before grabbing a small vile on the shelf, a potion the was already premade.

He pops it open, ready to pour it down your throat, but before he does, he pulls it back, quickly replacing the concoction with his extremely soft lips the taste of something good invading your taste buds, you assume it to be his chapstick. He stills for a moment, letting your lips lock and exchange touches. When he releases, he doesn’t give you the chance to interject, making you chug the drink down your throat, some of it escaping the corner of your lips, his gloved thumb wiping it off your chin.

“Vi… Vil…? Why’d you do that…?”

“How did Grim tell you to lift it?” He backs away from you, putting the empty glass in the sink.

“He said I… Had to kiss someone I liked. Why?”

“That’s what he said? Huh, I see.” He takes out his own brand of chapstick, reapplying it to his lips. You stay leant on the shelf of the rooms, watching as Vil’s silhouette moves towards the door. “No reason. Now, I have to get back to filming. Take better care of your lips, [Name].” He’s already out the door by the time you work up the courage to say anything else.

As he walks in the hallway, the leather of his gloves clench. It seems Grim did correctly tell you the cure. It doesn’t matter though, whether it was his kiss or that potion that worked, all he cared about was getting you fixed. He’s an actor, he’s keen to notice the presentations of people around him. He was sure you liked him, and even Rook fed into such a delusion. But, there was always a gnawing feeling of not being fair enough to you. So just in case, if you never really did like him, he won’t know.

He’s a good actor, but even actors can’t lie to themself. He really hopes it was his lips that cured you and not that potion.

…

The next day, when Vil finishes applying his makeup, the door to his room is knocked on, albeit very quickly. By the time he finally opens it, nobody is found, only a gift basket filled with fruits and low-grade beauty care, well low grade to him. If his suspicions about who this came from are correct, he can’t blame them for not having enough money to afford proper skin care.

When he looks in, all he sees is a card with a small smiley face and a heart. But he already knows who his secret sender truly is.

—————

Your knocking on Idias door gets harder and harder with every strike. You know he’s in there, but chances are he’s too absorbed in a game to notice your frantic hits. You’re about to hit the wood one more time before the door swings open and your fist is only an inch away from his nose.

“I… I only heard you just now…”

You’ve been out there for 10 minutes.

“You didn’t text me beforehand like usual… Is… Is there something you need…?” He steps to the side allowing you in his room, immediately having you sit on his bed before shutting the entrance. You look around a moment before handing him the note you had pre-written on your phone.

“No voice. Cure is a kiss from person I like. I like you, Idia. Please kiss me.”

It isn’t exactly the confession you wished to give him, but by the time you were typing it, you had deleted so much of the text you originally had from embarrassment, and by the time you looked up, you were already at his door… and Ortho was beaming in excitement behind you, you couldn’t possibly disappoint him by just walking away again.

He essentially shortcircuits the moment he reads the words off the screen.

He doesn’t speak, not even a panicked screech. The only sign of embarrassment he shows you is the sight of his hair turning pink.

“Wha… Wha… What…?”

You expected that, so you lifted your finger, signaling him to scroll down.

“You don’t need to like me back, just kiss me and i’ll leave.”

“No no, If we were in like… like a game… that type of game… you would have… ughhh…. You would have my… affection bar… filled— not filled maybe like 110%… up…” he struggled to get the words out he didn’t even make eye contact with you once in his speech. But, you understand what he’s trying to say to you. “Nevermind, forget it…! Just find someone… someone else… you deserve like a prince of something…”

His posture is hunched over, and he’s quick to turn away from you. You’re sure if he was closer to the wall he would curl into the corner and attempt to hide from you.

You’re pretty sure he’s about to do just that, he’s already slowly making his way to the corner. He’s only narrowly stopped when he feels you tug on his sleeve, pulling his face into your own.

His mouth was slightly open from shock, so his razor sharp teeth poked you, but even then it was still a nice feeling. When you part, he stares at you for an entire minute. His hair was already pink, but somehow it must’ve gotten even pinker.

“You… You won the game…”

“Did I…? What does that mean…?”

“Forget I said that. I’m gonna die now”

—————

It’s been at least half an hour since you’ve met up with Malleus, and he seems to not have noticed you don’t have a voice to reply. But at the same time, it’s nice listening to him ramble on and on about his Gargoyle studies—

“You have not spoken.” Your head is quick to turn, your body slightly jolting at the sight of Malleus’s face mere inches away from your own. Sometimes, you forget he doesn’t have any sense of space. This point is further proven when he moves his face away but your shoulders are still in contact. “Why is that?”

Your hand reaches down to your side attempting to take out your phone, but, it only grasps air. You look back down into your pocket, not noticing any holes for it to fall out of.

What? Did… Did I loose it or something?!

“This thing…” your head flips back to the man in front of you, his gloved fingers turning the phone with narrowed eyes. ���I don’t understand, why not just talk to me? Would you rather use this phone than converse with me…?” You can spot early signs of Malleus’s emotional turmoils. It doesn’t take long for you to see the hint of disappointment in his eyes at the mere notion of you not even wanting to talk to him.

Along with that, clouds are beggining to form in the sky

You immediately shake your head at him, your fingers pointing to your throat while forming an x. Though your movements are so quick from the sheer panic of lightning striking, he doesn’t understand what you’re doing until you slow down.

“Ah, you did talk about that potion unit didn’t you.” You nod your head, ready to perform a collection of poorly acted-out charades to showcase your cure. You only got as far as the heart in your hands before he interrupts. “If I remember correctly, the fix to that is a kiss from the one who holds your affections… is it not?” The boom of thunder increases at an incredible rate, and even the pout Malleus holds on his face gets more obvious. “Have you come here to ask for my aide?” You can tell, it’s very obvious he’s trying to hide his dispiritedness beside a veneer of support. “Then… I will help a dear… friend.”

At his words, you shake your head the hardest you’ve probably ever shaken it to disagree with someone. You’re sure you must’ve swayed your brain too hard, by the time you stop you honestly feel a little dizzy.

“Ah, do you not want my help?” The lightning in the air starts fading, but in exchange, it’s like the clouds have gotten darker. “Am I, not allowed the see the object of your desire?” You wish you just had your phone out from the beginning, it would’ve made things so much easier. You bring your arm up, pointing at him.

Malleus is smart, he needs it if he will be Briar Valley’s ruler. Yet, he’s a bit dense in terms of human emotions and relationships.

“I thought you didn’t want my help…?” You’re sure if you could make any sound, pure screams of frustration would’ve left you. “I’m left in confusion as to how it is I can help you. I want to assist you Child of man but, I don’t wish to see you kiss anyone else—“Your hands immediately take him by the tie, dragging him into you as your lips practically smash together. If anyone saw you, such a scene would be quite the scandal for the heir. Minutes go by when you finally release him, and when you look up, the sky is the clearest it's been for the past month. “So it was me.” The look in his eyes is fond, it’s a warm sight.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t notice sooner, I didn’t hide it…”

“You didn’t?”

“I confessed to you twice before this Malleus…”

—————

(This is self indulgent cuz i’m unfortunately a Rollo fan…)

Considering how far away Noble Bell is from Night Raven, you have no doubt you’d be stuck voiceless for quite awhile before you get to see Rollo again. Grim is just left to watch you sulk as your head falls in disappointment. You honestly don’t know how to tell Rollo about your situation either, you could always text him, but how do you even tell him you need to kiss him as your cure? Along with that… over text? That’s just pathetic. He’d probably shame you for being so ungraceful with your feeling towards him.

“Quit moppin’ and tell him already! I’m gettin' depressed just watchin’ ya…” with your head buried into your arms you can feel Grim practically shaking you out of your ball of shame with his tiny paws. “Come… on…! You’re not gonna get your voice back doin' nothin’!” He’s… unfortunately, completely correct.

With a soundless groan, you reach for your phone and open your contacts, drafting the text you’ll send to Rollo.

Rollo, I need to tell you something… your fingers continuing to vigorously type your paragraph.

Three knocks disperse your attention.

“[Name] are you there?” The familiar voice immediately strikes panic in your body as you accidentally throw your phone into the air, pathetically catching it as you stumble towards the door with a loud thud. On the other side, the door can be seen harshly shaking at an impact from within the room, Rollo glancing to each side of him in confusion. “Are you okay?” The lack of a reply makes worry bubble inside of him.

Before he’s given the chance to open the entrance himself, the door swings inward, allowing him to peak in through the crevice. He looks inside with initial confusion before hurriedly shuffling towards the room, the sight of your body on the floor making him even more puzzled with every passing second.

He lifts your upper body, having you sit face to face with him in such close proximity. Your eyes are dazed, looking directly into his eyes before looking around as if you didn’t even notice this was the genuine Rollo Flamme and not just a product of your imagination.

Damn you Grim… Leaving me as soon as you opened the door…

“Your room… is very disorderly [Name].” I was on the floor and you’re focused on how messy my room is? “I did tell you about how messy it was last time I was here too didn’t I?” I get it, I’m messy, so stop rubbing it in… A moment of silence passes before he quirks up an eyebrow, suspicions of his growing by the minute. “No witty comeback this time? Have you finally decided to start listening to me?” Your lack of reply Honestly worries him. Your eyes take a glance at your phone, making his tired face look over as well.

When he moves to grab it, he pauses his hand frozen in place. Your text is still displayed on your screen, as well as the current predicament you find yourself in. Realization hits you in waves as you quickly crawl over to snatch your phone from his palm. When you tried, his hand moves away in time to avoid your reach.

“It’s quite distasteful to admit such a thing through text.” I knew it… your head leans down, once more, in defeat. But, that's quickly changed when his nimble fingers take your face and lead them to his own. Honestly, it felt as if it lasted for eternity when in reality, the exchange only lasted for a couple of seconds. It was as if, Rollo finally felt the need to indulge himself in a little sin, only a little. When you finally separate, you're both left on the floor of your room, awkwardly glancing at the material.

“So… why’d you come here, Rollo? I thought after everything that happened at Fleur City you wouldn’t wanna come here again…”

“I do. I still don’t wanna be here.”

“Then why are you—“

“There’s a holiday at Noble Bell, we have a day off. I came to spend it with you.”

A/n: If anyone has like, any thoughts for the twst characters pls share them!! I may not be doing requests right now but I might write something short of you send in an ask!! Honestly, I just really enjoy when people ramble in my inbox. Also, I’m not too familar with writing Idia and Leona so i’m sorry if they weren’t written good!

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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[occamstfs]

Conjuration: The Call

Ozzie begrudgingly plays a thinly disguised trading card game and finds some fun teaching his meathead friend a lesson.

Something between a role reversal and devolution! Jock -> Twink and Nerd -> Brute! Hope you enjoy this tale of a wishful role-player growing to dominate a try hard, Best! -Occam

Ozzie absolutely hated trading card games, he missed the boat and loathed being made to feel stupid like they always end up doing. Perhaps some self-reflection could see him giving Conjuration: the Call a fair shake, when a game of CTC was thrust on him instead of the DND session he was coming to play, the man was in not so charitable a mood.

Prepped to play his Druid all night, Ozzie is sulking in the kitchen when his friend Lily, patient zero of getting their group playing CTC again, brings over a proxy deck she made for him. “Heyyy babe~ Sorry about the bait and switch, I thought we were going to play DND too but apparently Mark’s sick and Alex thought this would be a great chance for you to learn how to play!”

His scowl quickly shifts between Lily, her half-hearted olive branch, and their friend group’s surly Adonis, Alex, who winks before returning to set up the table for their game. Ozzie sighs, not wanting to make a scene, he reaches out to inspect the printed deck in her hands. She perks up, “perfect! You’re gonna love it I swear!

The hitherto hater sighs, “ughh. You guys are just going to steamroll me like always! Is the deck too complicated to learn on the fly?” Her eyes glimmer as she slyly makes sure Alex can’t hear, “Not at all! I’ll be right there if you need any help and-“ 

Before she can explain, the man at the table interrupts, “you ladies done yet?” In their running campaign the impatient Alex plays a barbarian which mimics both his stature and nature out of game quite well, in Conjuration however he’s emerged as quite the rival to Lucy. Which Ozzie knows as she begins to explain, now at a whisper, “okay so it’s actually a deck to counter Alex’s.”

She immediately goes to defend her ulterior motives as Ozzie’s scowl returns with a vengeance, “oh c’mooon Ozz, I made this whole deck for you! I found the commander in the bulk bin and thought it sounded like your thing!” Shuffling through the box he checks it out, Loggan the Brain, nice and holographic. He pauses to appreciate how it feels in his hands, heavier than expected and almost warm to the touch. After a moment he looks up to find Lily has already gone to join the rest of the party at the table.

Finishing up his huffing, Ozzie sits opposite Alex who performatively flexes as he shuffles his deck, “Ready to get schooled by the man?” They’re friends at the end of the day so Ozzie doesn’t try to hide his irritation as he responds, “oh I’m sure there’s nothing you love more than beating newbies huh”

Alex takes a few seconds trying to think of some clever reply but after a few playful jibes from Lily and Tim, their fourth player, he decides to save any further taunts for the game. It’s not Ozzie’s first time playing Conjuration, how else would he hold it in such blatant disregard. Resolutely he refuses a tutorial from Alex and Lily. The pair make eye contact as they try to push down the urge to take candy from the new player and instead scheme how they can both use his inexperience to their advantage.

The first couple rounds go by in a flash, the other three begin setting up decks they are clearly incredibly familiar with while Ozzie races to read the little cheat sheet Lily made for the deck before performing a decent opening few rounds himself. Ozzie figures Alex must be running some kind of counterspell deck as Lily’s notes make it very clear that this proxy is a counter-counterspell deck, as it were. 

Lily would never be able to play this deck as it relies on someone counterspelling the Loggan the Brain without checking the specifics, and Alex would never do so to someone with as firm a grasp as her. When Ozzie goes to summon his commander though there's a glimmer in the jock’s eyes as his fingers go to counter the summon before Ozzie even announces, and in doing so he falls into the trap of the deck. 

Alex reaches over to push Loggan back off the board only to be stopped by Lily, almost shaking from excitement as she bursts out into laughter and explains the situation. She points to the ability text Drain: Start of the round gains one “Devolution” spell card. When “Devolution” is used to counter an offensive spell on yourself, put a token on Loggan the Brain. After ten tokens are placed on Loggan the Brain, replace him with Ogg the Brawn.

Hearing his opponent groan from an easily averted own goal he finishes his turn to see Alex scratching his chest and complaining, “I’ve never seen these stupid cards before, are you sure these are legal?” His eyes narrow at Lily who shrugs and tries to taunt him into casting a spell at Ozzie, “Who knows man, maybe it’s not even that good? You should cast a spell at him to see what it does!” With a wry grin she meets Alex’s scowl. For now he stills his hand as they prepare to deal with the quiet Tim as he quickly becomes the biggest threat on the board.

When it comes back to Ozzie’s turn the fun begins at last, launching a spell at Alex who has no choice but to counter, which is of course met with the new player’s own “Devolution” counter. Ozzie and Alex both open their mouths to complain, about the game being convoluted and unfair respectively. Before they can lash out however both men see a token appear on Loggan the Brain without anyone reaching to put it there. 

Only Alex and Ozzie seem to notice the board changing without any human aid, before they can react however they are both filled with an alien warmth. Alex’s hands shoot to his crotch and his face flares with embarrassment. All eyes fall to him as he almost squeaks as his meaty hands struggle to hide the fact that he’s getting obscenely hard at the CTC table, “GrheEEK! AH- hEM” the macho man tries to hide the voice crack from the table, failing to do so they all incredulously stare.

“Psh jeez- can’t a dude sneeze? Fuck!” Knowing they have most of a game still ahead of them no one goes in too hard on Alex, even as his complaints sound decidedly whinier to their ears. Were they to look even a smidge closer at the sscowling man’s face they’d surely see its hard edges begin to soften as his scratchy perma-stubble starts thinning. Alex flips through his bulky hand wondering how he’s going to overcome the pair of opponents, ignorant as his arms are slowly drained of the strength he has honed for over a decade at the gym.

oes Ozzie fail to see how he too begins to shift over the next round. When all hands go to counter a spell cast once more the situation ends once more with Alex being rebuffed by a Devolution card Ozzie drew. Thin fingers go to cover his mouth as he tries to quiet his laughter at Alex’s lips pulling into a pout, looking plumper than usual. Ozzie ignores the flitter at finding that exciting to instead taunt the man looking mousier but is distracted as he scratches his cheek, “Ah c’mon there Aluh- hm.” 

Ozzie pauses as he hears his fingers scratching at, well it sounds like stubble? After a few more strokes he speaks up again, “Uhh guys did I need to shave when I came in?” The party is focussed on his question so they take no heed of his voice sagging deeper with every word. Instead they narrow their eyes at his jawline. It takes him quite a while to grow any kind of facial hair so it’s not like it just sprouted up all of a sudden? Right? Alex laughs and rubs his own face, “Ah Hah! Followin’ the lead of your favorite role model huh! Heehee! Er-”

All laugh as Alex giggles uncharacteristically, cuing him up to go all out and defend his fragile masculinity. Ozzie sits back and watches as him and Lily tag team their fourth player into an early knock-out. All the while though he begins to feel odd? His palms are sweaty, upon closer inspection he realizes his whole form is sweaty. 

Eyes off him he airs out his chest and yelps as he accidentally grabs a tuft of chest hair. He looks down his shirt, slightly obscured by a stubbly little mustache poking out of his upper lip and barely quiets a gasp from shock as he sees a few curls sticking out the center of his bony chest. His inspection then falls onto the hand still grasping at his tee, almost imperceptible blond hairs that have humbly decorated his wrist have lengthened, darkened, and spread into a truly thick jungle on his forearms.

Needing to draw a few more cards to get his target out, Alex can’t help but shoot a couple more spells out at Lily who then redirects them to Ozz. Returning his focus to the board he grunts and prepares to take the hit before checking his hand to find two more copies of Devolution in his hand. He tosses them clumsily on the table and guffaws and shouts in his gruffer voice, “Hah! When’re you gonna learn to not target the man, fucker!” Ozzie reclines once more as Alex ignores his taunts and continues to take his turn.

Half-way to switching out his commander for a card he hasn’t read yet he tugs down his shirt as he feels a breeze on his exposed midriff. There seems to be a volley of new curls stretching above his waistline, briefly making sure no one’s watching he scratches at the pubes slowly inching into a dense treasure trail and almost moans at the distracting pleasure. With each quivering new sensation the blonde curls he has long been proud of darken and recede to something choppy and brown, shrinking back as from every inch of his form curls of the same pervasive brown race to assert his primal masculinity.

With each drag into the growing garden of hair on his waist the urge to vocalize his pleasure grows more difficult to ignore. The stubble on his face continues to thicken, growing into something more than five o’clock shadow that would put Alex’s to shame at its best. Speaking of, as his usual ungroomed stubble continues to fade and shrink into a face shifting as smooth as porcelain he can’t help but stare at Ozzie’s face with jealousy, his cock pulsing once more in his gym shorts and he grits his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the game and not on how Ozzie’s sleeves almost seem to be hugging his arms.

Ozzie similarly doesn’t see as his eyes are closed to be almost obscenely lost in the fulfillment of scratching his itch. Though he feels it. His arms slowly edging larger, straining his sleeves almost to tearing with each meagre movement. He feels stubble slowly growing up past his neckline, giving him a few stray curls that would need a turtleneck to hide as his chest begins to amass new weight and muscle itself.

In his death throes Tim follows Lily’s lead and forces Alex to toss a few more spells that will hopefully be blocked at Ozzie. Still lost in the reverie of his changing form, Ozzie doesn’t even check his cards as his hand quickly shoots up from his crotch and tosses two cards onto the table. Without looking two more tokens appear on Loggan the Brain and both Alex and Ozz clench the table as they are struck with another wave of changes. 

The other two players at the table are suddenly engrossed in checking their hands, as if compelled to not notice as Alex is suddenly swimming in clothes that he chose explicitly to highlight how built he was looking today, his neckline droops low enough that it should expose his burly-hair covered chest. The only thing it shows now however are two spray-tanned pecs that seem to be shrinking.

Alex doesn’t notice as his shoes almost fall off of his feet as they drop a few sizes, no instead he bites his lip and stares hungrily at the man who was supposed to be his quarry. His cock feels wanting his balls blue, more than that though for the first time in his life his ass almost feels empty, in need of something- or someone. He doesn’t put two and two together as he continues to stare at Ozzie growing hairier. 

The once mousy man finally fills his nerdy tee enough that it begins to fray and tear. Similarly do the slacks he threw on for game day find themselves more than filled with meaty thighs and a package that has blossomed into an absolute veiny beast. His eyes widen in wonder as he takes it in for the first time. His thicker, rougher hands reach downward and with the slightest touch his hips buck and his zipper blows out as his cock strains it to the breaking point. Barely contained in his briefs Ozzie has to ignore the wet patch of pre staining through them and put all his energy towards not cumming then and there in front of his friends as the game remains ongoing.

While the two were distracted by their changing tastes and bodies, Tim was officially knocked out of the game leaving everyone worse for wear. Though after another couple rounds it becomes clear that Alex is very much off his game. His white teeth continue to chew at his plumper lips as he’s lost in thought. 

Ozzie similarly chews his lip, champing at the bit as he stares at the shrinking man. Fuuuck, he’s real cute when he works himself up. His inner monologue sinks deeper in tone to match his new voice as his thoughts grow rougher, simpler. Under the table his hand can’t help but go to his crotch as images of some massive beast of a man dominating the twink push to the front of his mind. Drool dripping from teeth bared onto Alex’s back as he arches up into heavy pecs, as if he were made to be under the man, if he were made to be under Ozz- Fuck.

Alex shivers as the table shakes from Ozzie rutting into it, gasping as his own ass fills out. He’d never really spent dedicated time crafting the perfect butt, or no- is that true? His phone suddenly fills with nudes taken of his sculpted, smooth butt and sent to- Ozzie’s bearded face forces itself to the front of his mind. Alex can almost feel his sweaty muscular chest against his own, his fingers curling around hair that inches up from his ass and down from his shoulders. He can almost feel the phantom cock he’s bouncing on before across the table the only player not lost to their lusts clears her throat.

“What is up with you guys?” There’s forced confidence but something is clearly throwing her off her game. Something’s not right. Is it? Oggie- Er, Ozzie? He’s always been a tank, it’s why he’s been so against playing right? And Alex, well shoot that twink is obsessed with Conjuration since it’s the only game or sport that he can beat his- She clenches at her head as she’s seized by a migraine. Perhaps that’s how she falls into the trap that Alex has been setting since turn one.

“Ah HA! Finally biitch! You played right into my hands!” His voice cracks higher, something in the back of her mind swears she’d never let Alex call her a bitch but as she looks at the twink she can’t imagine why. The cocky sneer remains on Alex's face as his hair lengthens into a floppy garden of dirty blonde curls, after looking at the board it fades a little as he struggles to recall how exactly he’s supposed to finish her, “Uhm?”

He scratches at his head and the sleeve hanging on his thin bicep slides back, revealing his pit as the last few hairs remaining of his once proud tuft fall away, leaving behind a fruity scent that will never quite fade instead of the heady musk that could never be quenched. Ozzie didn’t realize he was staring at the twinks pits as they finished smoothing. Looking to his own pit stains on a shirt that seems moments from bursting off his form, he grins toothily and figures he produces well enough stink for the both of them. His canines almost feel larger in his mouth.

 After the song and dance of Lily walking Alex through her own defeat, accompanied by a fair share of giggles from a man who wouldn’t be caught dead speaking even vaguely ‘like a chick’ before the game, Lily heads off with Tim to go grab pizza before the next game. Leaving behind Alex and Ozzie as the game nears its close. Both men struggle to decide on their next moves, or rather if they care enough to even make them, as the other players depart. Ozzie scratches the back of his head like an ape, apathetic to his arm finally bursting free from its sleeve and exposing a hairy pit that Alex eyes hungrily. 

Drooling and wanting to be done with the game as soon as possible the once jock eyes his hand filled with spells and wonders why he has so many? Was there a reason he wasn’t using them? He hesitantly throws one down and is immediately met by a counter. Ozzie grunts as his form bulges larger, brow jutting slightly over blue eyes that don’t quite look so bright any more. He tears off his shirt with one meaty fist before moving to scratch at the carpet of hair covering his torso as if it were a shirt itself.

Ozzie’s own eyes glaze over as he drops his cards on the table, he want game over. His underwear is filled to breaking and he grimaces before going to tear them off just like his shirt. Grunting he punches the table in shock as the elastic band snaps back against him. Veins bulge everywhere across his form as rage fills him enough to rival his hunger for the twink sitting across from him. Struggling to control his breathing as he sits stewing in lust and anger he speaks in a gravely town as his stomach begins to bloat, “Your turn,”

Alex similarly is lacking the focus to continue the game, tossing his hand down his eyes flash as the remaining tokens stack onto Ozzie’s card. Neither man notices as a final line of text appears at the end of the dense paragraph, “If you lack a copy of Ogg the Brawn in your deck, become one.” He doesn’t read the card of course, nor will he chase the urge to read much of anything anymore, but as the ability is activated OzzOgg obeys the instructions to a tee.

Spit drips between gnashing teeth as Ogg stands to his new height. Waist filling out as he pounds onto the table and he grows into a true brute. The elastic band digging into his waist acts like a flank belt as he glowers at Alex and bucks into the table, making a mess of the organized decks as he feels his mind unable to focus on any pursuit other than chasing his hunger.

Alex stands and his pants fall to the floor, unable to remain on his thinned waist, “O-Ogg?” he squeaks out, what was was a tight muscle tee now hangs off a shoulder, perfectly framing a hard nipple and hiding the noticeably smaller bulge where his dick must be. Ogg knocks the table over and tackles the twink with power he never imagined or desired to have. 

Grunting, Ogg can’t control his hips as they continue to rock and thrust as he struggles to position his twitching cock over Alex who endeavors to roll over and present his perky ass. Ogg forces his face down into the nape of Alex’s neck, breathing in his scent, magically alluring and the diametric opposed to the bestial musk that steams off the man whose eyes dull to a dark brown as his stomach bulges into a massive muscle gut.

Underneath, the twink’s mental faculties grow similarly vacant as he feels the hairy stomach scratching against his back, as Ogg’s massive cock finds purchase and fills him with far more powerful pleasure than what Alex has inflicted on many a partner throughout the years. His moans fill the air, rivalling Ogg’s grunts as the pair leave sweat and cum stains on the cold tile. 

The air of the apartment is filled with Ogg’s primal, almost proto-human musk which only makes Alex hungrier for the man he is evermore to be obsessed with. When his face is shoved into Ogg’s jungle of pit hair he wonders how he lived before now as his cock is pressed up against Ogg’s bulky, curl-covered torso.

Eventually their preternatural lusts absolve themselves and in a brief refractory period Alex rushes to clean up the worst of their mess before the other two return with pizza. Ogg of course is no help as he throws on a pair of boxers Alex would’ve sworn were his own and goes to sit on the couch, arm behind his head to air out his steaming pit and continue to rile Alex up. After righting the table and wiping away all the stains he could see the twink indeed goes to nestle up alongside the man on the couch as he throws on some nature documentary.

Alex doesn’t notice as his head finds itself almost immediately in the man’s crotch as his cock starts to poke out the leg of his boxers. Well, when in Rome- Before they can get up to too much fun, they hear the door being jostled. Alex jolts up and swallows the pool of pre-cum filling his mouth before doing a poor job of hiding the rock hard rod in Ogg’s boxers. The brute grunts in irritation and grasps at his needy balls, apathetic to the return of the other platers.

Setting down the pizzas Tim looks over at the clearly worked up pair and rolls his eyes as if this is normal, “Well are you two horndogs up for another game?” Eying both Alex and Tim something besides the Id in Ogg rears up, still seems like there’s a lot left he can drain from the two men. Bulge already inching larger, he stands and goes to pick up Loggan from the floor. Time for round two-

[emmcfrxst]

I’m wondering how Laura would react if reader and OldMan!Logan got into a fight? Maybe they tried to keep it away from her but unfortunately the girls too much like her father and ends up hearing most of it.

Ugh and imagine if she saw Logan storming off not realizing that he left you in tears…

(I’m feeling extremely angsty tonight.)

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH, TRAUMA, ILLNESS, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS, SUICIDAL IDEATIONS & GOD (I guess????) Set before Logan gets, as nonnie put it, chest-fucked, so during the period of time everyone’s trying to escape the fucking Reavers while figuring shit out. It got too long so it’s under the cut

You don’t argue that often with Logan— your relationship is solid and although communication was rocky at first, he’s made significant progress and is able to hold a serious conversation without immediately jumping back into his defense mechanisms (misguided anger, deflection and ultimately fleeing were his initial reactions when you tried establishing proper communication about feelings in the beginning). His progress, however, is rendered completely useless when the conversation is about his rapidly declining health; he’s immediately on the defensive, body going rigid and eyes going dark, jaw clenched so hard you’re afraid he might shatter it— he hates thinking about his newfound mortality, not necessarily because he’s afraid of death (it’s actually quite the opposite, he seeks death in a way, longing for the pain and the nightmares to just stop once and for all) but because he knows that dying means leaving you on your own and that’s something he can’t bear to think about— the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you is immeasurable; it overwhelms him entirely because he knows that losing him would break you and it makes him feel physically ill to think about the consequences. So in true Logan fashion, he blows you off whenever you bring up your concerns, stating that he’s fine, and the anger he feels at himself and his body for failing him ends up being taken out on you through biting words he regrets as soon as they slip from his tongue.

“I’m the one who’s fuckin’ dying, for Christ’s sake, quit your fuckin’ yapping.” It’s a phrase he regrets uttering for multiple reasons: he hates being rude to you in any way, shape or form because you’re the last person who deserves to be subjected to his emotional constipation— you’ve taken all of his broken parts into your hands and pieced them back together with your unconditional love and unwavering patience, you’ve made him feel loved, you’ve made him feel alive, and most importantly, you’ve shown him that he doesn’t have to feel guilty or bitter about his existence. You’ve done so much for him throughout the years and he fucking hates himself for letting his emotions get the better of him like that. The other thing that bothers him deeply about his reaction is the verbal acknowledgment of his condition; it’s something that he somehow believes can be ignored, as if denying it could make it any less real. Acknowledging that he’s dying makes bile rise up his throat— it’s a bitter feeling, really, because he used to wish for death everyday before he met you, heart and mind torn to shreds from years of horrific abuse and unwavering violence; he even prayed to whatever God was out there, despite not being a believer, to just let him go, to free him of the chains of trauma that bound his psyche. His prayers were left unanswered, Logan only accumulating more trauma as the years went by— he can’t count how many times he’s cursed God for making him go through what he’s gone through, needing someone to blame and wishing for a way to end it all. Ironically, Logan’s immortality only seems to waver once he starts treasuring life; it feels like a stab in the back, a cruel joke orchestrated by God who finally decided to answer his prayers now that he wishes he could take them back. The feeling of betrayal only seems to further fuel Logan’s anger towards his illness, which, combined with the guilt he feels at the thought of leaving you alone, causes him to act out whenever you bring up the subject. You take offense in the words thrown at you, hurt by the reminder of his impending death and the way he navigates it, arguing back that you do this because you care about him, for fuck’s sake. Unfortunately, that only seems to make things worse, upsetting Logan further and bringing back years’ worth of feeling unworthy of your affections.

“That’s your fuckin’ problem bub. I told ya you shouldn’t waste your time with a man like me.” he physically winces as he utters those words, wishing he could unsee the way it makes your entire face crumble with despair— it’s a slap in the face, really, to be brought back to square one and have him reject you in this way. Logan flees before either of you can say anything else, slamming the front door behind him and walking in no particular direction until he feels like he can finally breathe again, leaving you in tears at home. Laura, although playing in her makeshift room at the time, hears the whole exchange as clear as day due to her enhanced senses, her fists clenching with rage when her ears pick up the sound of your stifled sobs. You feel her before you even hear her, your body tensing as a pair of small, skinny arms wrap around your middle, a head resting along your spine. After the initial alarm of feeling someone touching you, you can’t help but let out a watery laugh at just how easy it seemed for her to surprise you, turning around in Laura’s arms so you can look down at her. A frown is etched onto her features, lips puckered into an angry pout as she hugs you tighter, insulting Logan in spanish under her breath. It makes you laugh again, this time softly, your hand smoothing out her hair as you sniffle.

“I’m okay, Laura. I’m okay.” she glares up at you, unconvinced, giving you another squeeze and reluctantly allowing her features to relax when you gently run a fingertip across the furrow of her brows— despite not being together for long, you find that you’re able to soothe Laura quite easily; there is a connection between the two of you like you’ve never felt before, a bond that you feel like you were always destined to have. Your heart warms at the obvious way the child seems to care for you, wanting nothing more than to make all of her worries disappear.

“He made you cry.” her voice is so quiet that you almost miss it, a soft, indignant noise leaving her at the sight of your tear-stained cheeks. You sniffle again, free hand moving up to wipe at your eyes, the other caressing her hair lovingly.

“I know.” you don’t say that it’s okay because it’s not— Logan crossed a line that you thought had been worn down ages ago, and you’ll be damned before you ever teach Laura that hurtful words can be brushed aside so easily without an apology. It’s for her as much as for you; you’re aware that you deserve respect even when Logan is upset, and you’re not about to stomp down on your self-worth to coddle him when he’s done something wrong. He’ll apologize, you’re sure of it, but until that happens, you’re not going to pretend that his reaction was acceptable. It’s something you categorically refuse to do, and it’s one of the many reasons Logan fell in love with you in the first place. You know your worth.

“I’ll be okay soon.” you tell her honestly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She studies you for a moment longer before nodding her head, allowing you to lead her onto the couch where she curls up next to you.

You’re asleep by the time Logan starts walking back towards the house but Laura hears the crunching of sand and gravel under his shoes, quietly untangling herself from you and moving to the side of the door, frown back on her features. Logan barely has the time to pass the threshold before she’s on him, jumping onto his back like a feral animal and punching his shoulders repeatedly, growling when he grabs her and holds her still, visibly confused and irritated by her behavior.

“Don’t even think about it.” he warns her when she makes to bite the hand that holds her down, frowning down at her just as hard she does up to him. She struggles in his hold, trying to hit him again, making him grunt in pain.

“You made her cry, coño.” the words make Logan freeze in his tracks, eyes falling on your sleeping form on the couch, noting the way your eyes look reddened and the tear tracks on your cheeks. Nausea immediately strikes him like lightning, the expression on his face seeming to satisfy Laura as she stops struggling, frown still evident on her face. She sits up and watches silently once he lets her go, staying nearby to see the situation unfold.

You awake to a calloused hand gently running over the plane of your cheekbone, eyes opening to meet Logan’s remorseful ones. He’s sitting on the ground next to the couch, looming over you in a way that makes you feel safe like no one else ever could.

“Hey.” his voice is hoarse but soft, thumb swiping back and forth over your skin in a silent act of comfort. It makes you smile despite your grogginess, and you feel more than you hear Logan releasing a soft, relieved inhale through his nose.

“Hey.” you answer him just as softly, leaning into his touch and closing your eyes again, content to feel him again.

“I’m sorry.” the words sound heavy coming out of his mouth, a grim expression taking over his features as he wipes off the remnants of your earlier tears.

“I know.” you reply simply, turning your head to press a gentle kiss against the roughened palm of his hand. It makes him exhale shakily, shoulders squaring as he prepares himself for the discomfort of the following words.

“Didn’t mean to snap at you, baby. I just… I feel helpless, I guess, and it fuckin’ pisses me off. Never had to worry about dying and leaving you alone before.” he says the words slowly, trying to make the last sentence sound like a joke, tone falling flat. You can tell he’s uncomfortable with the discussion but he pushes through, causing you to feel a rush of sympathy— he’s trying, you know he’s trying, and that means something to you.

“I know. I feel helpless, too. But you have to remember that you’re not alone. Not anymore. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what happens, it’s you and me until the end.” he laughs wetly at your words, nodding his head and swallowing thickly before speaking again.

“I know.” this time it’s his turn to provide reassurance, the two little words more than enough for the both of you. The feeling of his warm lips connecting with your forehead makes your eyes flutter shut, hand coming up to lay over the one he’s curled around the back of your neck.

“Kid’s kicked my ass for making you cry.” he mumbles against your skin, the amusement in his voice clear. It makes you snort in surprise, unaware that Laura had intervened before you woke up.

“Did she? Well, you kinda deserved it.” your answer is playful, tone devoid of its previous heaviness, your eyes meeting Laura’s over Logan’s shoulder for a brief moment before focusing on your lover once again.

“That I did.” he agrees simply, a soft, tender, apologetic smile on his face. You lean further into him when he kisses your nose, heart feeling lighter than it had in a while.

You were going to be okay.

[oldwritingm]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[nolovelingers]

ETHAN LANDRY AS YOUR BOYFRIEND ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

headcanons — // cw ! : dark themes ,, obsession ,, nsfw !! just a reminder that this man is in fact a killer, it’s not gonna be all lovey lovey goody goody 24/7. !!

——————————————————————————

SFW !!

ETHAN LANDRY AS YOUR BOYFRIEND . . . would be an experience like no other. you’ve never met anyone quite like him, and though he can be one of the sweetest and most thoughtful boys you’ve ever met, he often has mood swings that can scare you heavily.

easy to anger, if you say one bad joke about him, do something he doesn’t approve of or if he catches you suddenly growing distant, he throws tantrums, yelling, punching things and performing the best crocodile tears you might’ve ever seen.

he’s never had a girlfriend before, and before you he’s never even held hands with a girl; so he doesn’t know quite exactly how to love properly, and it doesn’t help that he’s quite a twisted person all together since hes, well, a serial killer.

there is no inbetween with ethan. he will hate you, or he will love you obsessively. there is no “talking stage” or “getting to know each other” with ethan. he will jump straight to the point.

if he feels you slowly cutting ties with him or that you may try to leave him; he takes extreme measures. threatening to hurt himself, your family/friends, and if it gets drastic maybe even yourself. though he has absolutely no initial intention to harm you, if he feels he must just to get you to stay with him, he will do what needs to be done. nothing too bad of course, maybe just a few cuts.

however, if you’re good to him and give him nothing but your love and affection, the both of you will practically be on cloud nine the entire relationship.

he’s always wanted a girlfriend and you’ve made his wishes come true, he can never repay you for enough.

he gets jealous quite easily, and though he does a good enough job at hiding it in the moment, he’ll get quite confrontational when it’s just the two of you.

he’ll help you study, carrying all of your books for you, your bags, your backpack, keep your phone in his pocket when you have none, anything you need help with hes there to assist.

he can still get a bit shy around you even several months into the relationship, sometimes the feeling of love and joy he gets around you too much for him to wrap his mind around.

to be frank, he sucks at flirting. when he’s not hiding behind his fake personality; a shy schoolboy, he’s typically very blunt about things, straight to the point, or he’ll avoid it all together simply because he’s never had the practice of flirting. you’d need to give him a few tips.

he’s very dorky, actually. big into all sorts of movies, comics and shows. especially horror movies, not to be cheesy but they are just something he adores.

if you’re sensitive to horror movies, it’s even better. he loves when you jump, seeing your scared face as you clutch onto him for support, or hide your face under the blanket which never fails to make him smile.

however if it’s the total opposite, and horror does nothing to you, he’ll have no problem in taking on the roll of being scared just to get closer to you and have you soothe and cradle him in your arms, hiding his face in your neck and whining about the scary jump scares or the blood being too much.

your first kiss was honestly pretty bad. he had no idea what he was doing and he kissed you like how your mom would kiss your forehead after wishing you a good day at school. it was terrible, he didn’t go for your top or bottom lip, he literally touched his lips to yours and puckered up for a few seconds.

after practicing for a little bit though, he gets the hang of it and become a decently good kisser.

going into the relationship anytime you kiss it was a little awkward, he wouldn’t touch your body or your face, just lean his head in and expecting you to do the rest. as he gets more comfortable though he eventually becomes the type to rest one hand on your cheek and the other loosely behind your back.

he loves hickeys. he likes to give them, of course he does, marking you is one of the best experiences ever in his mind, but he has such a weak spot when he’s on the receiving end. begging you for more, chest rising and falling as you suck at his most sensitive spots, small groans of arousal falling out from his plumped lips, sore from the make out session you two had just shared while his mouth hangs slightly open and brows furrowed closely together in ecstasy.

if you try to cover the hickeys he gives you, he gets a bit offended. even if it was for school or because you had to see your parents, he would never dream of hiding the dark patches you gave him, from anyone, proud to show off the fact that you loved him; and he sees no reason why you would wish to conceal them. if he notices blobs of makeup trying to wash away the love marks depending on the mood he was in he’d either a) roughly rub the concealer off with his fingers, asking you why you’re so ashamed to be with him and guilt you to death, or b) purely suffer in silence, pouting at the sight and giving you the cold shoulder. not that it would last long anyway, he hates when you don’t talk.

ethan would kill for you. he really would. whether it be some poor old woman who knocked her cart into yours by accident at the grocery or some built guy who tried flirting with you on campus; it wouldn’t be even two days before the news reports them as deceased, brutally butchered with a knife.

he loves to take notes for you, dumbing them down better than how the teacher explained so it wouldn’t be so difficult for you to understand, taking a yellow highlighter and going over the key points of the lesson and marking a few (poorly drawn) doodles.

you lost your notes? don’t worry, take his entire notebook! oh, you only needed yesterdays history notes? well, now you have his entire notebook in your possession. it’s no big deal, he’ll just make more.

joining him in econ dates from time to time are a must. he loves study dates, and anytime you attempt to have one at his or your dorm it just ends in notebooks tossed aside and his lips on yours, so your safest bet to actually get work done is to just join him in econ. holding hands under the table and watching him do his work with a concentrated face.

he’s not the richest guy around, but if you want something he’s either going to buy it assuming he can afford it, or just kill and mug some person on the street for the money. trust me, he’s tried to steal before and it didn’t go so well. theft is not something he’s good at getting away with, so he’ll just stick to murder for the time being. he’s not good at being discreet or locating the cameras.

ethans smart, he genuinely is. he’s at the top of almost all of his classes and teachers favor him, which means they favor you. he was a genius before, however ever since he got with you he’s done nothing but excel even further.

he’s so proud to have you as his partner, you’re genuinely the thing he’s most proud of. the best part of him is you. his notes app is filled to the brim about everything there is to know about you, what you like, your past hyperfixations, important information, stuff you’ve mentioned you wanted.

you are both his home and lockscreen and everytime he sees your face pop up on his phone his heart flutters a bit.

you’re pinned to the top of his messages and the only person he has notifications on for. everyone else is on silenced, and he only has a total of 4 other contacts saved that aren’t you. his dad, his sister, chad and tara. he didn’t even bother for mindy, anika or sam; and besides them he knows no one else.

he’d drop anything for you in seconds, no matter how important it was. all you have to do is ask, and god forbid if you beg him. he’d drop to his knees right there. even if he was in the middle of an important family meeting about how to continue executing the ghostface plan, if you beg him to cancel (not knowing what exactly it was he had to do anyway) or even gloss your eyes slightly to give him the illusion of tears he’s all yours for the rest of the day.

he’s extremely touch deprived and is awkward when initiating it unless it’s something like slinging his arm over your shoulder, which he never once had a problem with. you’re usually always the first to initiate hand holding and cuddles, which he’s so grateful for. he doesn’t know how to go about asking.

when you do hold hands though, he’ll literally never let you go. even if you have to leave, do something with two hands or just try to remove your hand from his; he’ll tighten his grip (not so rough that it hurts) to stop you from doing do without even noticing, so you basically have to ask him to stop holding your hand which is far more embarrassing than just letting go, but he really doesn’t even notice when he does this.

he loves the way you smell, and there has definitely been a number of times where you catch him sniffing your hair on the perfume/cologne on your neck, potentially even asking you for the name of it so he can go out and get his own to spray on his pillows and a few of his shirts.

this also applies with your shampoo and conditioner. he doesn’t primarily use the ones that you do, but he’s got the exact type stored under a cabinet so that when he’s particularly missing you he’ll use them in his locks instead of his usual kind.

sharing headphones and having a joint playlist is a must with him. you two have a collaborative playlist that you both add songs to and listen to when you’re together that ethan has just started listening to constantly now.

he doesn’t have much social media. he doesn’t have snapchat. he does have an instagram that you forced him to download just so you could send him reels but he never posts on it. he has tiktok, but he’s literally just not logged in so he doesn’t have an actual account. he does have twitch though which is what he uses the most.

he’d never let anyone hurt you, and if they do he doesn’t just get angry, he becomes furious, their death much more brutal than any past ones. their was a time where he took a stab to the shoulder after quinn charged at you with a knife as ghostface, even after ethan specifically told her not to lay a finger on you. she hadn’t planned on killing you but she wanted to get a couple hits in, which ethan was extremely against. their father later lectured the both of them about the situation.

he specifically made sure you were at the hospital with mindy when the reveal went down.

NSFW !!

he really wasn’t lying about being a virgin, he had no idea how the body worked and he was always way too nervous to initiate anything sexual between the two of you.

you had definitely turned him on before, his dick growing hard at the sight or thought of you; and he always wondered what it would feel like to be buried deep inside you. or to have your pretty mouth wrapped around his shaft, gagging from his length and the vibrations of your moans sending shivers down his spine.

but no words could ever do justice to how it felt the first time you slept together.

he didn’t finish as fast as you assumed he would and actually did a decent job at holding out, but he definitely didn’t break any records or anything.

he’s 100% a switch, quick to go from whining and crying out for your touch to holding you down beneath him, hand pushing your jaw upwards and fingers carefully wrapped around you neck as he takes everything he wants and more; those are on his most aggressive days.

he loves receiving head more than he likes to give, but if you ask him he’s definitely eager to please you. he’s just nervous he’s not doing well, and to be quite honest he’s not the greatest at picking up your body language at what you’re enjoying and what you’re not unless you really make it noticeable.

one of his favorite things is the sounds you make. he absolutely hates it when you try to silence or muffle your noises, making sure to go harder or rougher so that you’re not able to even try.

he buries his head in your neck as he’s rutting into you, watching the way your body bounces around his dick and unable to stop his own sounds from falling out as his mind goes blank in ecstasy.

he’s more of a whiny and grunty type than a whimper guy, but there are definitely moments when a string of curses mixed with desperate whimpers fall from his lips.

when he’s feeling more violent and powerful, he’ll definitely take it out on you in the bedroom, pounding into you ruthlessly and breath shaking as a bead of sweat forms on his forehead, the only thing able to clear his mind is being deep inside of you.

started 08.05.23. finished 08.05.23.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n : idk how I feel ab this one it’s kinda low tier effort but wanted to get smth out today🙏 make sure to leave notes, reblogs and comment!!

©️nolovelingers 2023

[yeonmuse]

SYNOPSIS — Park Sunghoon doesn’t usually like involving himself with those at Chaconne academy, but when he finds out his little sister’s music teacher attends and she starts getting a little too close she forces him to let his guard down. Now he’s gotta juggle new people and new emotions entering his life and she’s got to face her past in order to hold tight to him and her future.

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x Park Sunghoon ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, angst non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are closed] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🎻

⍣ ೋ AUTHORS NOTES . Strong angst themes, slow burn but mostly fluff. I’m not sure where this idea had come from considering I have 4 unfinished series out right now but I wrote this in 4 days so lets fucking go i guess??? Includes Choi Yeonjun, Bae Jinyoung, Kim Sunwoo, Jung Wooyoung, Shen Ricky, Xu Jiaqi and Asaya Jurin. Wc is 4.1k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | ENDING

Chaconne Academy was one of the many elitist schools in the district, your typical run of the mill prissy assholes that felt they were better than everyone else simply because they’d paid a higher price for their education. Those that attended had either been scouted and recruited by the board while anyone other than those that worked hard to get in, were born into nepotism. Born into the wealth of the school or simply owed favors by the dean and those on the board. Though where exactly did that leave you? You were the absolute opposite type of what the school had been looking for, though very talented and passionate when it came to music you werent exactly the vibrant type. You were fairly quiet, you’d only talked to those you absolutely had to, otherwise you would be compelled to spill your guts once you truly got to know someone. You rarely liked to stand out amongst the crowd because truth be told you completely hated attention. Though when it came to writing and composing music or holding a mic in your hand that was where you absolutely shined. In high school you grabbed attention occasionally, many finding you pretty but almost immediately losing interest when they found that you rarely talked. You were never the type that liked to dwell in the spotlight.

You certainly weren't rich nor had you been scouted by anyone so how exactly had your father pulled enough strings to have gotten you into such a highly praised academy? You weren’t exactly sure nor had you cared because you had finally found yourself a group of people you knew would understand you amongst all, or at least you thought you had. The pictures and virtual tour had done no justice to the school itself, not only was it huge, but it was absolutely breathtaking, its outdated castle-like exterior contrasted to its much more modern interior. The visuals certainly lived up to the expectations that had been set by the school's reputation itself. Having been busy taking in your surroundings you found yourself quite distracted, maybe a little too distracted, seemingly unaware of the red haired man hurdling right towards you on his skateboard immediately knocking you off your feet.

“Shit, I'm sorry.’’ Scrambling to his feet he helps you up, holding onto your hand a little longer than he should have been , turning the already embarrassing encounter much more awkward than needed.

“I didn’t see you, I’m sorry. I didn’t hurt you or anything right”

“Aside from the embarrassment of being ran over and knocked down in the middle of the corridor completely fine, nothing hurt, nothings broken.’’ You reassure him, making him let out a relieved sigh.

“Actually now that I think about it I don’t think i’ve seen you here at all.’’

“That’s because i'm new.’’

“Ah I should have known, since there aren’t many of us here it’s easy to remember the faces of those that attend, and I know for a fact yours is one I wouldn’t have forgotten.’’ there's a flirtatious undertone to his words, making you look away which hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“I’m Yeonjun by the way.’’

“Yn’’

A silence lingers between the two of you momentarily after your self introductions, the silent streak only having been broken when Yeonjuns name is called from behind you, making his eyes finally redirect from you who stood in front of him to a group standing behind you.

Four other guys and two girls stood in the entranceway of the hallway, seemingly waiting for Yeonjun to Join them.

“One second.’’ His attention returns to you as he once again makes sure that you’re okay from the fall.Truth be told you were more embarrassed than anything and just grateful that no one had been there to witness the collision

“I’m fine, it looks like your friends are waiting for you and i’ve got to check in with the dean.’’

“Good luck with that, oh and let’s not tell her about our little collision, I don’t need another lecture from her about skating in the halls again.’’ he inquired, sheepishly scratching at the nape of his neck.

“Your secrets safe with me.’’

“I’ll see you around. Goodluck on your first day yeah?’’

“Thanks.’’ without another word he’d picked up his skateboard and gone to join the others, leaving you alone once again. It was then that you realized you’d completely missed the opportunity to ask him where the dean's office had been. Which meant you were now completely fucked and left with no chance of finding it without roaming the entire building. You’d roamed for what felt like an hour but had only been a mere ten minutes, eventually getting yourself lost.

“I should have asked him for directions.’’ a sigh slipped past your lips and you’re immediately startled as you hear someone speak up from behind you.

“Are you lost or something?’’

“Is it that obvious?’’

“Well the “i should have asked him for directions” and the fact that you’re in the guys dormitories which is restricted to the girls are kind of gave it away.’’ you mentally facepalm, taking a mental note of the information he’d just given you before turning to face the owner of the voice that had startled you only a moment ago.

“You must be the new girl Yeonjun told everyone about.’’

“Already? We only just met a few minutes ago?’’

“Word travels fast here, especially if Choi Yeonjun is the man given the information. So by now nearly half the school knows about you.’’

“Great.’’

“I’m assuming you’re looking for the dean's office then? And in that case you’re in the wrong building. This is building B, Building A is where the courses take place and where the dean's office is located, Building C are the girls dormitories.”

“Where are those exactly?’’ you felt bad for having to bombard him with so many questions though he on the other hand didn’t seem to mind.

“Luckily i’m on my way to soccer practice so I don’t mind showing you.’’

“Seriously? You really don’t mind?’’

“I’m headed that way anyways, what’s your name by the way Yeonjun conveniently forgot to pass on that information.’’

“Yn, it’s yn”

“Well welcome to Chaconne y/n i’m Sunwoo.’’

-

“There's no way you just let her walk past you like that? She’s been giving you the eyes for a month now.” jakes eyes trailed behind Kim Yuna like a cat following a laser beam. Kim Yuna had set her eyes on Sunghoon the moment he’d arrived at the school but as of recent she’d found herself growing more bold with her efforts. Subtle glances and greetings in the hallway had turned into not so subtle flirting, eye batting and seduction attempts, all of which Sunghoon paid no mind. Truth be told, aside from the very few people he’d been close to, he didn't care to get to know anyone else at the school. Not only was it pointless, but every single one of them were the same aside from a handful of people, all spoiled and spoon fed their entire lives, completely entitled. Sunghoon himself had also been well off, though he differed in the fact that he didn’t flaunt his money or use it as an excuse to treat people anyway he wanted. He’d treated them all the same, he simply didn’t care for any of them nor had he desired being close to any of them.

“I don’t know why you expected him to show any interest all of a sudden when he’s never given her the time of day no matter how many times Yunas attempted to flirt with him.’’ Jay interrupts, his focus solely on tuning his guitar in hand while Jake continues to whine in disbelief that Sunghoon had let such an opportunity pass him by.

Sunghoon on the other hand had paid him no mind. Glasses perched up on the bridge of his nose, fingers clicking away at his keyboard he’d chosen to simply ignore the latter. He’d grown used to Jake's whining and complaining by now, having known both him and Jake since middle school when their parents had all forced them to attend a shared event. They had all been thirteen at the time, each of them having bonded over dropping frogs in the punch bowl, every one of them having been scolded to the gods for ruining the entire event. They had all been friends ever since.

“He hasn’t given one girl a chance since we’ve gotten here, it’s scary. Wait or are you just not into girls- because you know if you’d rather a dude then that’s okay too.’’ Sunghoon, finally looking up from his computer gives Jake a stern look, one that blatantly read ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ But of course Jake simply ignored it.

“You know sometimes with you, I swear the stores are open but no one's shopping.” Jay retorts, making Jakes brows furrowed in confusion.

“Whatever the hell that means.’’

-

After what felt like an hour long talk with the dean you had settled into your dormitory. Since classes had already started that meant you’d not yet met your roommates but you were praying to every god known to man that they’d be someone you got along with. Today having been your first day arriving both you and the dean had set today’s priorities on you having gotten all moved in and used to the school. You on the other hand had found comfort in Sunwoo, and rather than get lost trying to find your way through the school all alone, you’d rather take your chances asking him to show you around. Until then that left you with nothing to do other than organize your room and job search. After two hours of room decorating and screaming Shinees entire discography at the top of your lungs, you’d eventually showered and sat yourself at the dining room table, scrolling through job after job until you eventually set your eyes on one that piqued your interest.

“Music teacher wanted.”

“We’re looking for someone to teach our youngest daughter about music. Recently she’s taken an interest in instruments we know nothing about. She’s also taken an interest in composing and note writing and we’re looking for an experienced professional, pay would be 200 dollars an hour.’’

Your eyes had nearly fallen from your face upon reading the price, 200 an hour simply to teach a kid music? They had to be either absolutely crazy or extremely wealthy. Either way you didn’t truly care because you’d apply with or without having known such information. Truth be told you’d never taught anyone professionally your entire life. The closest you’d gotten to teaching anyone was when you taught your little cousin how to play guitar hero at the age of eight.

You’d taught yourself to play nearly every instrument known to man, so how difficult could it be teaching someone else, let alone a child?

Your gaze snapped away from your laptop to the door as you heard it swing open and in came two girls yelling about where they should go out for dinner. As if finally seeming to have realized you had been sitting there they’d stopped dead in their tracks, one of them giving you a smile while the other stood rubbing her temples, you assumed it was due to the fact that the other had been screaming only mere seconds before.

“Oh you’re the girl Yeonjun was talking to earlier.’’ the girl that had been yelling moments ago, takes note as the other shuts the door behind them.

“I’m Jiaqi but you can call me jia, this is Jurin”

“Yn, nice to meet you.’’

“Jia the girl just got here, can you maybe not talk her ear off?’’

“I haven’t even said or asked anything yet?’’

“Yeah but I knew it was coming.’’

“Honestly I don’t mind, since we’re all gonna be sharing this space I don’t mind answering any questions you have.’’ you respond while closing your laptop, making jiaqis' nose scrunch up as she turns to Jurin.

“See rin, She doesn’t mind.” she retorts, an all knowing tone before turning her attention back to you

“We were just about to head out for lunch did you want to join us?’’

“Sure, just let me change into something less, homey.’’ you respond, glancing down at your outfit before standing from your seat at the table, earning a laugh from Jiaqi.

The rest of the day had gone by smoothly, you and the girls had taken the time out to get to know one another and you’d found out that you all had a few things in common. Similar music tastes, the same favorite ice cream flavor, you’d even find out that you and Jurin had attended the same middle school and just never crossed paths.

-

Sunghoon had arrived back home, happy to finally be back and get his much needed break from the classes and constant eyes on him. Even if it was a mere two days away he was grateful every time the weekend had come around, it meant no alarms and no agonizing drive from the campus and back. Though he could have made it far easier on himself and gotten a dorm, he'd rather take the drive back and forth from home to campus, rather than be forced to share a room with someone he knew he couldn’t bother getting to know.

“Oh good you’re here.’’ Sunghoons mom enters his room, poking her earring through her ear as she steps inside.

“Your father and I have to attend an emergency meeting, but Yoari’s new music teacher should be on her way soon, we left her instructions on the coffee table, and the money to pay her is in the safe, we told security to let her into the gate when she arrives just check up on her and your sister every now and then.’’

“You got her a teacher?’’

“Well yes, she wanted to learn music so we put up an ad two days ago.’’

“You hired a stranger to teach her when you could have gotten me or Jay?”

“You and Jay are not professionals sweetheart, and we’d rather you focus on your own classes and studies, we’ve been over this.’’

“So we’re just letting a stranger in the house and you haven’t even met them yet.’’ His mother opens his mouth to respond but their conversation is cut short when his father calls out, warning her that the two would be late which prompts her to give him a reassuring look and kiss on the forehead before leaving his room.

It wasn’t that Sunghoon didn’t like the idea of his little sister learning music, it was the simple fact that his parents hadn’t even bothered to get to know whoever it was they had hired. He loved his little sister more than anything, he’d been protective of her since the day she was born and he got to hold her in his arms for the first time. Of course he wanted to see his little sister happy and learning music but not with a absolute stranger when he or Jay were completely capable.

A ring at the door interrupts his thoughts and he assumes it's the unknown music teacher that his parents had hired. Making his way down the stairs, he finds that the door had already been open and his eight year old sister stood in the doorway across from who he assumed was the music teacher.

“Hi sweetheart, um where are your parents?’’

“Yoari what’d we tell you about opening the door for people you don’t know?’’ Sunghoon interrupts, taking his descend down the stairs and over to the door.

“But it’s just my teacher.’’

“Still you don’t know her.’’ Sunghoon eyes the girl watching as her lips pressed into a thin line while she observed the interaction between the two.

-

The tour of the house had been awkward to say the least, you’d been meeting the guy for the first time and you could already feel the atmosphere become tense. From the very moment you’d entered to the moment your tour around the home ended he’d been cold towards you. You hadn’t expected the guy to be overly nice but neither did you expect him to completely shut you out either. Before she could even think she’d spoken the words that sat at the edge of her brain from the moment she’d set eyes on him.

“You look really young for someone that has a kid” He’d immediately stopped reading the directions and gave her a look that made her wish the ground would swallow her whole.

“That’s because she’s my sister.’’ Oh? Now you have gone from wanting the ground to swallow you whole to wanting to completely disappear from the universe itself.

“Oh.’’ While you had been fighting back your embarrassment, Sunghoon who found your reaction amusing had been forcing back a laugh.

Your first practice had gone fairly well, today you’d been teaching Yoari one of the many instruments on her parents lists that she had been eager to play, the violin. Yoari had caught on quite fast, it made you realize how much children had advanced since when you were her age, it’d taken you an entire year to learn to play the violin and she’d caught on as if it had been something she’d been doing for her entire life.

“That was amazing Yoari, you read the notes pretty well so i’ll give you one of the songs and we can try and play that next, let’s see how far you can read and work on what you can’t.” as you placed the music in front of her the sound of your stomach growling cut through the silence like a knife. A giggle spills from the little girl's lips and you clear your throat, feeling embarrassed for the second time today.

“Maybe let’s take a short little break.’’

You left Yoari alone momentarily, making your way up the stairs and trying your best to remember where Sunghoon had told you his room had been when he’d given the tour. Eventually you stumbled across his door and knocked softly, receiving no response. After knocking again and earning not a peep you quietly turn the knob and push the door open. You found Sunghoon sitting at his window with headphones on and a notepad in hand. Now there you stood calling his name and flailing your arms around like an idiot trying to get his attention. Luckily he’d sensed your presence and caught sight of you out of the corner of his eye.

“Did you need something?’’ He finally acknowledges your presence, pulling his headphones off his ears and having them rest on his neck, allowing you to faintly hear the song he’d been listening to.

“You listen to wisp?’’ your eyes widened with disbelief, and for a moment Sunghoon's stoic expression contorted into one of disbelief.

“You know them?’’

“Well yeah i’ve got every song, even made my own hard copy on record of the latest album.’’

“A record? You still use those?’’ He responds, earning an eye roll and a scoff from you.

“Yes I do. And I'm not the only one by the way, vinyls are making a comeback.’’A smile ghosts on his face, yet it falls as fast as it appears. A silence lingered between the two of you for a moment and the only thing breaking it once again was the sound of your stomach.

“I was supposed to ask you about the kitchen, but.’’

“Your stomach beat you to it.’’ You didn’t even know what to say, you knew it was a natural thing but the fact that it had been so loud was agonizingly embarrassing. Without a word he stands from his spot at the window and makes his way towards the door, leaving you to follow.

-

Sunghoon wasn’t sure what made him decide to cook for you, he’d chalked it up to himself also being hungry and his sister also needing something to eat. He still didn’t fully trust you, after all he knew absolutely nothing about you other than you seemed to get embarrassed easily.

“so..do you play?’’

“What?’’

“The instruments, do you play? I’m only assuming since your parents already had the instruments here, the job didn’t require me bringing my own.’’ for a moment Sunghoon just sat there, his lips pressed into a thin line, he wasn’t exactly a talker and right now you seemed to be pushing those boundaries.

“He’s been playing since he was six.’’ His little sister includes herself in the conversation, perching herself up on the stool right in the middle of you and Sunghoon.

“Oh? So music just runs in this family?’’ you respond playfully looking over at Sunghoon who still seemed very much closed off to you.

“Mm no mom and dad hate it, they only let us play because they know it’s what we love to do.’’ the little girl continues, while Sunghoon just took the opportunity to continue eating, leaving you to eye him curiously. It was obvious that while Yoari liked you he still hadn’t fully warmed up to you yet.

“My mom hated music too, she’d say that all of it was just noise.’’ you don’t know why you suddenly felt the need to spill your guts to an eight year old girl and her brother who you weren’t even sure was listening but here you were.

“The only reason I was allowed to play growing up was because of my dad, he’d buy me all the latest cds and pay for my lessons, he’d work extra shifts just to pay for my first violin.”

“Your dad sounds cool!’’ Yoari responds enthusiastically, spaghetti sauce smeared on her face as she continues to eat while listening.

“Yeah he is, he gave up everything just to make sure that his only daughter didn’t give up on her dream even if that meant-’’ You paused realizing you’d dug a little too deep into the details of your own life. Leaving not only Yoari to look at you curiously but Sunghoon as well.

“Meant what?’’ Yoari asks curiously, her doe eyes staring straight up at you as she waits for you to finish your sentence.

“Even if it meant I get to teach someone as amazing, and talented as you Yoari.’’ you fake a smile, a smile that was enough to fool Yoari, but Sunghoon saw straight through it. He didn’t question it though, after all the two of you had only met today and it wasn’t his business to involve himself.

-

You’d eventually return to your dorm to find not only Jurin and Jiaqi but the others that had been waiting for Yeonjun on your first day. They had all sat in your living room screaming over what looked like a game of Uno.

“Oh yn you’re back.’’ Jurin was the first to realize you’d been back, making everyone's attention fall upon you.

“Hey, it’s my collision buddy.’’ Yeonjun greets you, making you cringe at the name.

“Collision buddy?’’

“Almost ran over her on my skateboard her first day.’’

“You idiot didn’t the dean tell you you’d be scrapping the gum off the desks if she caught you skating in the corridor again?’’

“Well it’s a good thing she didn’t catch me then isn’t it.’’

Jiaqi jogs over to you, locking her arm with yours. She takes you over to the group and introduces you. In addition to learning Jiaqi and Jurin you could finally put names to each face you’d learned, Aside from Yeonjun you’d found out their names were Wooyoung, Ricky, and Jinyoung. After having gotten to know each of them you’d clicked with all of them pretty well, or that was until yet another round of Uno began and all hell broke loose. That night ended with your newfound friends yelling over the game and eventually deciding it was best you all never played uno again.

On the other side of town Sunghoon sat quietly at the piano absentmindedly pressing his fingers against the keys. After the conversation in the kitchen and seeing how well you’d treated his sister he began to have second thoughts about you. Maybe he’d judged you too soon, maybe you were someone that would be good for his sister? He’d found himself thinking about you for the rest of the night, most of all he wondered what it was that you had really wanted to say when you had been talking to his sister. What you actually were going to let slip before you’d seem to catch yourself. For the first time he found himself interested in someone else other than himself, Jay, Jake or Yoari.

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @heesallure @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @sol3chu @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @riribelle @gaytron3000 @heesunghooney @i03jae @blackhairandbangs @sunooqvrlsx @addictedtohobi @enaile23 @ivyvioletcarson @kristynaaah @starbyeol1512 @tinyteezer @jkslvsnella

[fireinmoonshot]

gold rush | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When Joaquín gets recognised for the first time, you find yourself unable to ignore your feelings of jealousy. Joaquín sets out to prove you have no reason to be jealous. Warnings: It's a little suggestive at parts and the reader has thoughts of not being good enough and briefly compares herself to other women in terms of looks. Word Count: 2.9k A/N: I am so terrible at writing spicy/suggestive scenes so I hope this isn't too bad and you guys still enjoy it 😅 I loved this idea when I came up with it and it was so enjoyable to write. I love domestic Joaquín! Title comes from Gold Rush by Taylor cause it came on shuffle as I was writing it and I realised some of the lyrics fit the storyline 💗

“Joaquin, let me–”

“No.”

“Seriously, you’re carrying like six heavy bags. I have two hands. Just let me carry–”

“No.”

“Fine, let me carry one then!”

“No.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest, giving your boyfriend a pretty impressive side-eye as you walk beside him, heading back to your car after doing the weekly grocery shopping. No matter how many times you went grocery shopping with Joaquin, it always ended the same way – with him carrying all the bags and refusing to let you carry any.

He was fairly similar when it came to getting the actual groceries in the store. He pushed the cart and held the shopping list. He told you what you needed and you got it and put it into the cart – and he sneakily added in a few things here and there that you never noticed until it came time to go through the checkout. 

“Joaquin, baby… just one bag,” you attempt to convince him again, already knowing that it’s not going to work. Joaquin can be incredibly stubborn when he wants to be.

He shakes his head. “I’m so strong that these bags feel so light it’s like I’m holding feathers, angel,” he glances at you. “Besides, I can see our car from here. We’re almost there.”

You sigh, giving up on attempting to help, and start to search for the car key in your bag. By the time you get to your car, you still haven’t found it but Joaquin doesn’t mind, standing by the side of the car until you do so he can put the groceries in the trunk – he won’t even let you do that, insisting on carrying them all the way to the car, into it and then from the car into your kitchen. 

You’re so invested in trying to find the key, likely right at the very bottom of the bag, that you don’t notice the group of girls getting out of the car parked opposite yours. You don’t notice the way they all gasp at the sight of your boyfriend or the way they all push one girl in particular to walk over towards your car. It’s only when you hear her speak that you look up, your car key finally in your hand.

“Hey… sorry to bother you, but you look so much like the new Falcon… Joaquin, right?” The girl asks, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She has to be fairly young, in her early twenties at most, you’d guess.

Joaquin grins, glancing between you and the girl. He’s never been recognised in person before, not since he officially became the Falcon and people found out who he is. “Yeah, that’s me, actually, no joke,” he laughs, bending down to put the groceries on the ground next to the car and stepping closer to the girl.

From your spot, standing behind your car near the trunk, you can’t ignore the feeling that settles in the pit of your stomach. You swallow, hating how it feels. This is exciting for him – the first time he’s been recognised – but Joaquin never puts the groceries down for anything or anyone, and yet he’s doing it for this girl.

“No way!” The girl gasps, putting a hand to her mouth. “Oh my god, you’re so good looking in real life – and on TV too, of course. Could I get your autograph?”

Joaquin clearly enjoys the compliment – he knows he’s not too terrible looking and he takes pride in that. “Yeah, of course. Do you have a pen and paper though? I, uh, I’m not quite at the stage of fame where I carry them around yet, y’know?” He chuckles.

You’re holding your car key so tightly in your hand that it starts to dig into your palm and it’s only at the first touch of pain that you realise, unclenching your fist. This is fine. Nothing wrong is happening here. You are not feeling jealous. What even is there to feel jealous about? Just… this gorgeous young girl fawning over your boyfriend… and your boyfriend clearly enjoying the attention.

She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small notebook and a pen – clearly something that she carries around with her, despite her lack of fame. Joaquin takes them in his hands, signing an autograph that he’s been practicing for months, and hands them back to her, still grinning from ear to ear.

“Did you want a picture, too? Your friends can be in it as well,” he says, waving to the other girls waiting by the car. They all squeal in joy, obviously taking that as a sign to come over, and come running over to Joaquin and their friend. 

“Oh my god, this is a dream come true. We’re meeting an Avenger!” One of them says excitedly. 

Joaquin takes the phone of one of the girls in his hands and turns around, putting his back to the girls as they all smile and pose for the photo. He snaps a couple of pictures before handing it back to them. “You have a good rest of your day, all right, ladies? I gotta go, I’ve kept my girl waiting long enough,” he says.

You watch as the girls all head off, talking and making noises of pure excitement as they head towards the shopping centre you’d just exited. Joaquin stands in the same spot, running a hand through his hair, the smile on his face unshakeable. 

“How cool was that, angel?” He says, finally picking the shopping bags up again.

You clear your throat and press the button to unlock the car as well as the button to open the trunk. “That was pretty exciting for you,” you manage, stepping back so Joaquin can put the six bags of groceries in there. When he’s done, you hand him the key and walk around to the passenger side. Joaquin always insists on driving you.

Joaquin closes the trunk and heads around to the drivers side, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your reaction. You hadn’t sounded nearly as excited as he’d expected you to. He closes the door behind him and does his seatbelt up before turning to you.

“Everything all right, angel?” He asks.

He watches as you fiddle with the sleeve of your cardigan – a sure fire way to know that everything is not, in fact, all right. But then you do the thing he hates and brush him off.

“Yeah, it’s all good. Just a little overwhelmed by shopping. Can we head home?” You ask, barely even looking at him when you speak. You’re too busy trying to sort out the million feelings in your head. Jealousy, insecurity, a hundred others you can’t pinpoint.

Joaquin stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, of course, angel.”

The car ride home is quiet except for the music he puts on and the sound of the car on the road. His hand rests on your thigh, like it always does when he’s driving – a habit he started not long after he started dating you. You look out the window the entire time, head leant against the head rest behind you.

Why were you jealous of what had happened back at the parking lot? You had nothing to be jealous of, not really. Joaquin has always been friendly with other people and it just so happens that the first time he gets recognised is by a bunch of young, beautiful women? You don’t think you’re not attractive, but compared to them? Well… you can’t help but compare yourself even when you know that you shouldn’t. And he’d clearly loved how excited they were to meet the Falcon – but you and Joaquin had started dating before he even met Sam and the Avengers. 

You were always so proud of him becoming Falcon and you could see how much it meant to him, but you never fawned over him the way those girls had. You never thought about his fame and status in the same way those girls clearly did.

For the first time in your entire relationship, the fact that he’s the Falcon starts to scare you a little. He’s practically an Avenger, is best friends with the Captain America and is so recognisable now that people can recognise him on the street.

By the time you get home, the thoughts in your head have multiplied tenfold. Joaquin can feel the emotions coming off of you in waves, even though you have no clue that you’re even being that obvious.

He carries the groceries into the house but you’re already inside, leaving the front door open for him. He kicks it shut behind him and hauls the six bags up onto the counter. They can wait, he decides, until after he figures out what’s wrong.

“Angel?” He calls out, poking his head into your bedroom where you’re standing in front of your closet, picking out some clothes to change into that are more comfortable than the ones you’d worn out. “Will you come here a sec?”

You sigh, putting the clothes you’d picked down on the bed and crossing the room towards him. He leans down to take your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. His thumb swipes gently over your skin. 

“What’s going on? You’ve been quiet ever since we got into the car. Was it those girls?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing, Joaquin. I just got reminded that you’re famous now.”

Joaquin pauses for a second. There’s something that you’re not saying, that you’re purposely holding back. A thought enters his mind. Surely you’re not… no, you can’t be… “Angel, are you jealous?” 

“No!” You’re quick to reply, removing your hands from his and taking a few steps away from him. “I’m not jealous that you’re famous, Joaquin. I’m not jealous at all.”

“I didn’t mean jealous that I’m famous… I meant jealous about those girls.”

Your eyes flash up at him and he immediately knows he’s hit the nail on the head. You’re jealous… he was giving those girls attention simply because they knew who he was and he wanted to leave a good impression. He’d never met fans in person before. He would have reacted the same way even if it was a group of 80 year old men. 

“Oh, mi cariño…” He steps towards you, trying to stop his lips from quirking up into a smirk. He can’t remember you ever being jealous when it came to him.

“Don’t,” you shake your head and sit down on the edge of your bed. You don’t even want to make eye contact with him, you’re so embarrassed. “I’m not… I’m not jealous. I just… well, they were gorgeous and young and so excited to meet you, so excited about you being Falcon and I… well, I never gave you that kind of attention and I could see you thrived off of it. But I don’t want to focus on it. I don’t want to ruin your first experience with someone recognising you in public, so let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?”

Joaquin frowns. The last thing he was ever going to do was sweep your feelings under the rug and pretend like they didn’t exist. With a sigh, Joaquin takes the few steps towards you and crouches down on the ground in front of you, taking your hands in his again. “Will you look at me, angel?” He asks softly.

He can sense the hesitation as you slowly raise your eyes to look at him. 

“We will not be forgetting this ever happened because the last thing I want to do is undermine your feelings. I never cared about how excited you were about me becoming the Falcon. I knew you were already excited for me because you signed up to be happy for me with everything I do in life when you said yes when I asked you to be mine,” Joaquin explains, his tone gentle and soft. He stands up, keeping your hands in his. “Come with me?”

You stand up, letting go of one of his hands as he leads you into the bathroom just off of your bedroom. He spins you to turn around and look in the mirror, placing his hands on your shoulders so you have no choice but to stand there and look at yourself and the beautiful, kind, caring man behind you.

“What are you doing?” You question.

“I wanted you to look at yourself when I say these next things,” Joaquin says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “I didn’t notice if those girls were gorgeous or not when they came up to me. All I noticed was that there were a group of young girls who were a fan of me because I’m basically an Avenger now,” he starts, attempting not to sound as cocky as the words probably come across as. He watches your lips quirk up into a small smile and feels confident that this is going to go well. “And because I had the most gorgeous woman standing waiting for me to hurry up and put the damn groceries in the car.” 

You laugh a little at that and a smile comes to Joaquin’s face at the sound of it.

“You are the most gorgeous woman to me, angel,” he continues. “The way your hair falls around your face,” he says, tucking a strand of it behind your ear. He looks at you for a moment and then abandons his plans of having you look at yourself in the mirror for this.

He spins you around, leaning you up against the bathroom counter as he cups your face in his hands. “The way your eyelashes flutter over your cheeks when you blink,” he leans down and gently brushes his lips over one of your eyes. “The way your lips part when you look at me sometimes,” his lips move to press against the corner of your lips. “The way your smile lights up your whole face,” his thumb brushes over your lips.  “All of the little things that you don’t even think about are the most attractive things to me.”

“Joaquin…” your voice is a little breathless.

“Angel,” he replies, smiling slightly.

You surprise him by reaching up and putting your hand on the back of his neck so you can pull his lips to yours. He immediately reacts to the kiss, his hands falling to your hips and holding you tightly, thumbs pressing into you. You kiss him like you’ve never kissed him before, passionately and messily.

Joaquin almost groans as you nip at his bottom lip, his hand tightening on your hip. He’s unable to stop himself when you do it a second time and he can feel the smile on your lips at the sound. Your kiss consumes him entirely and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

When you eventually break apart, you rest your foreheads against each others, breathing heavily. 

“I’m sorry,” you eventually manage to whisper. “I lied. I was jealous.”

Joaquin chuckles. “You should be jealous more often if you’ll kiss me like this.”

You lean in and peck his lips again before pressing your arms to his chest to push him away from you just a little. “Today awakened insecurities in my mind regarding us that I honestly never knew existed, but… you love me and I love you, so I’m going to try not to let them affect me like I did earlier.”

“It’s okay if they do, though,” Joaquin says. “You might be dating an Avenger, but you’re still human.”

“So are you, Joaquin.”

“That’s news to me.”

You roll your eyes at him playfully before properly pushing him away and moving to walk back into your bedroom and get changed into your comfy clothes. You only make it two steps before Joaquin’s hands fall on your hips again and he tugs you back to him. 

He presses a kiss just beneath your ear before spinning you around again and catching your lips with his. You moan at the sudden contact just as he gently pushes you back against the door of the bathroom. It’s not fully open, though, and it hits the wall as your weight presses into it. Neither of you care to break apart to see if it’s done any damage. 

One of his hands weaves into your hair and the other stays resting on your hip as he kisses you, tongue brushing against your bottom lip as you open your mouth to allow him access. The groan you let out only spurs Joaquin on more.

Then, just as quickly as it began, Joaquin pulls away, his eyes wide.

“What is it?” You ask, somehow managing to find your voice.

“We bought ice cream,” he says simply.

“Yes?”

“I didn’t put it in the freezer.” 

You laugh, your forehead falling against his again. He’d ended the kiss because he’d remembered that your ice cream was sitting out on the counter, slowly melting. “Go off and try and save it, pretty boy.”

Joaquin steps back away from you, hating having to remove his hands from your waist and hair. He already misses the taste of your lips and the feeling of them on his. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks before he goes.

“No,” you shake your head. “But give me some time and I will be. Especially if you keep kissing me like I’m the only girl in the world.”

He grins, then steps towards you again and kisses you, swift but passionate. “It’s cause you are the only girl in the world to me, angel,” he admits. “Now, the ice cream…”

[2kiran]

HI! HELLO!! 🤍🫶🏻

first of all i really love your writing! the way you write is just amazing! i absolutely love your works and always come back to re-read some of them!! keep writing and don't forget to take care of yourself and drink lots of water!!! 🥺🩷

anyways i wants to request something if it's not too much of a bother askjkasksj

dom!m!nerdy reader and sub!badboy with a whole load of crying from overstimulation, praise k!nk, size diff (tall!reader) and dumbification OOOHHHH IM GONNA GO FERAL 😵‍💫

[also can i be your 🎀 anon?]

THREEKVENT NAVIGATION

2knote. aww, this is so sweet of you. I appreciate it, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this one. take care of yourself too and get some rest. lmk if you aren’t actually anon angelwing.

Every nerve was set on fire, blood pumping hot in his system as beads of sweat tingled down his forehead to his chest. It doesn’t help with the sudden high temperature of the room, especially not the uncontrollable throbbing in the center of his thighs. “Shhh,” your voice brings him back from his clouded state, grounding him. “won’t you look at that? You’re doing so great, practically sucking me in.”

He whimpers, oh how badly he wanted to punch off the smug way you were holding him up with his knees that threatened to buckle. His head tilted up to look at you, eyebrows knitting together in an attempt to appear threatening. Instead, he seems even more fucked out, tight hole squeezing your length with every push.

“Sh- shut up.” He grits, though tears sprouted and occupied his vision. Fuck, he hated you. The complete opposite of him, a reckless bastard, and you, the smart and adored one.

He hated how he’d perk up when you’d speak, listening to how your voice practically caressed the words you were uttering. Wishing that in lieu of you giving out the correct answer, you’d say his name and and — he’s definitely out of it. “Don’t say things like that, pretty thing,”

That fucking glint in your eye and how you’d scold him if he stepped out of line, he despised that even more. He clenched around you, gripping your cock tightly, silently begging for you to cum inside of him. It was overwhelming, flushed and sweaty skin bumping rhythmically against each other and making his mind hazy with pleasure.

You were supposed to hate him, not treat him as if he was the most valuable thing in the world. “Shit, that’s it.” You groan, rolling your hips into the spasming warmth that warned to milk you for all you were worth. “So good for me, haaah, yeah, take my cock.”

And he was. “Nnnggh–” stop talking is what he’s unable to retort with. Each thought is combining with one another, jumbled nonsense forming in his head and his mouth agape, only to gift pretty little moans and hushed whimpers to your ears.

He can’t stop the tears, bottom lip trembling and he’s clamping down all over again. You’re brushing against that spot which causes his back to arch off the wall, eliciting a breathy groan from him. He’s leaking on his stomach, pre-cum pathetically gathering up and slicking himself with his own fluid.

“It’s okay, let it out. You’re okay, yeah?” You grind your hips, aiming for it and he swears he’s going to kill you when he cums hard from just that. His body trembles, numbed, gasping for air and the only thought echoing is your damn mouth that can’t shut.

“Listen. Ah– look so pretty like this, all for me.” He can barely move a muscle, your thumb smearing his release around the sensitive tip. Briefly, he wonders if you’ll stop.

You don’t.

One of his palms reach out to you, weakly pushing at your arm as he sniffles. You’re rolling — on the brink of pounding — into him, set on getting him brainless beneath you. He can’t say it, can’t tell you to fuck off because you feel too good and he’s still got energy left. The overstimulation has a faint hint of pain pinching him, but he’s too distracted by the way you don’t quit.

You must’ve gotten to him. “Doing such an amazing job for me, sweetheart.”

He sobs, not quite recovering from his orgasm yet. How you’re crowding him sends him reeling, dizzy, and incredibly horny. He grabs the back of your head, tugging on the strands as he yanks you down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. You can make out the salty taste of his tears due to the unrelenting thrusts, his poor body not catching one break, and that has you pushing your tongue inside of his mouth.

When you finally pull away, he whimpers in disappointment. But then, you speak up;

“You can give me one more.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand.

[explicit-tae]

Ungodly Hour: Day 3

You’re feeling petty, so sending Jungkook nudes is how you get your revenge on him for leaving you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.212

Warning: jungkook getting clowned, face riding, oral sex, smut, simp jungkook, dirty talking, ass slapping, shit talking reader bs that's what she does, slight sexting

You ponder what life would be like if you lived with Jungkook - the weekend is long and waking up besides the man felt nice. He cooked breakfast after allowing you to sleep in, you two eating together. You’d shower, spend the day together (sex came randomly in between) and then go to bed.

Work was a task you’d dreaded, but you’d refuse to give up so quickly, even when Jungkook agreed to your joke of quitting, stating that you could always live off of him - an agreement the man was too quick to settle for.

Even after your boring, easy job, you acted as if it was the worst day of your life. Jungkook had bought takeout to make up for it and you were content for a while.

And now, you and Jungkook are in his bathroom, you attempting to concentrate on your task. You were dressed in nothing but a black silk robe - a gift from Jungkook - the both of you fresh out of the shower. He has a match one that he tied loosely around himself.

“Is it supposed to burn?” Jungkook asks, opening one eye to look at you. He sits on his closed toilet, you directly in front of him.

“If you ask me that one more time, Jungkook, I swear-”

“You want me to fuck you so bad, Y/N.” Jungkook closes his eyes, his hands reaching out for your waist to bring you close to him. 

You groan, squirming out of his reach. “We’re doing face masks.” you deadpan, your mind not comprehending how the man could be thinking about sex at a time like this. “Nothing about this is sexy, Kook.”

Jungkook scoffs - he begs to differ. There was never a moment Jungkook didn’t want you - but he was a man and maybe that was just the way his body reacts around you. He’d remain quiet, however, to make you any more irritated with him. Your irritation only fueled his sexual desire.

“‘Kay, done.” you lean back to admire your work on Jungkook’s face. Now the both of you matched - both sporting a cream colored face mask. “Our skins going to be so smooth when we’re done!” you squeal, and for a moment you’re excited - until you see the smile on Jungkook’s lips. “Ugh, didn’t mean to do that. Don’t think I like doing things like this with you.” you quickly scoff.

Jungkook cackles at your fraudulent change of tune. “You’re so down bad for me, Y/N.” Jungkook snatches your waist this time, bringing you closer to him. He then stands.  “Give it a few more months, baby, and you’ll finally admit it outside of sex.”

“Fuck off.” you murmur, hands pushing Jungkook back - even if you didn’t put that much force into it because you actually did like his embrace.

Jungkook brings his face closer, the need to kiss you heavy. He doesn’t get the chance to, however, a loud banging noise sounding throughout his home. His eyebrows furrow. “Someone’s at the door.” he says aloud. “Be right back.” 

You turn away from the man to clean up the mess you’ve made. As you turned on the water to clean the silicon brush, Jungkook takes it upon himself to slap your ass.

“Jung-” you swung around to snap, but Jungkook’s already out the door and down the hall, a loud trail of laughter echoing behind him.

Jungkook makes his way towards his front door, not caring about his appearance as he swings it open. 

“Oop, jump scare.” Jimin walks past him, shoving three large pizzas in his arms. “Why do you never answer your phone?”

Jungkook is dumbfounded as Hoseok and Taehyung steps in, as well, and for a moment he thinks about what he’s going to say.

However, Jungkook remembers that it’s Sunday - and Sunday’s were movie nights. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

He didn’t need Jimin knowing that you were here - not because Jimin hated you, it was quite the opposite. Jimin loved you (from afar) and your antics. He liked you and him together, stating that you made a good couple. 

Jimin knowing that you were here meant that Jungkook forgot about the weekly movie night - and then he’d have to hear Jimin’s mouth about how “pussy was worth more than the friendship” as he liked to put it.

“I was, uh, showering.” Jungkook responds, closing the door behind Hoseok. “Where’s Joon?” he questions, as if he wasn’t the one who lost track of his days. 

“Running late.” Jimin takes off his shoes and proceeds to go to the living room. “I wonder what’s new on the streaming services. Not like I’d know…” he trails off, side eyeing the younger male.

“You’ll have to get over that.” Hoseok snickers, taking his seat beside Jimin. “We all know Jungkook would find a girl that would take all his time.”

Jungkook laughs awkwardly, placing the boxes of pizza on the coffee table. 

“Ah, yes.” Taehyung sits on one of the leather chairs, a boxy smirk on his lips. “So…did Y/N teach you any new tricks?”

“Or is barking all you do?” Jimin scoffs, then proceeds to go out in full laughter, followed by Hoseok and Taehyung.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. It was bad enough he had to hear it in the groupchat. This was a moment they’ll never let him live down.

“I just want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Y/N has to be doing something lethal to have you bark-”

“It was a joke.” Jungkook hisses. “Pick a movie while I take this off.” he murmurs, making his way down the hall and back towards the bathroom. Jungkook opens the door and eyes you, face mask already off. “So, we have a dilemma.” he mumbles, coming towards the sink.

“I heard Jimin.” your arms are crossed. “Is he talking shit again?”

“It’s Jimin.” Jungkook scoffs. He begins to wipe the face mask off of his skin, scrubbing aggressively. “I forgot tonight was movie night.”

“Movie night?” you furrow your brows. “But I thought you said we were continuing Law & Order?”

Jungkook sighs. He turns off the water and turns towards you. “I did,” he admits. “but we have movie nights every Sunday and…” he trails off.

“And…” you shake your head, not comprehending. Jungkook grabs a small hand towel and wipes his face “...you’re saying fuck Lieutenant Olivia Benson? Because you want to watch a lame ass movie?” you cross your arms, even if you couldn’t be upset about it. You just wanted a reason to give him shit.

Jungkook licks his lips and smirks. “You’re so jealous, baby. I knew you’d-”

“Ew. Go watch your lame movie with your lame friends.” you push him away, fighting the smile stretching on your lips when you feel his hands on your wrist. “I’ll be in the room, I guess.”

Jungkook pokes his head out the bathroom door to assure no one was looking. Then, he drags you towards his room and shuts the door. “I’ll sneak you some pizza.” he murmurs. He rushes towards his closet to change into clothes.

“I…I can’t come out?” you scoff in disbelief. 

Jungkook shakes his head. “They’ve been cooking me in the groupchat and when they walked in. You walking out will only be my 13th reason.” Jungkook is dressed in under a minute, a black shirt and iron man pajama shorts. He comes towards you when he sees your wide eyed expression and wraps you in a sudden embrace, peppering your face with kisses. “I’ll let you sit on my face later.” he murmurs.

“You do that everyday.” you deadpan.

“Exactly.” Jungkook smiles. “So you’ll be okay for a few hours. I’ll try to kick them out after one movie, though.”

Again, Jungkook slaps your ass, but this time brings you in for a kiss. He’s out the door before you can say anything further. You eye his bedroom door for a moment and scoff with a shake of your head. 

“Hyung, when did you get here?” Jungkook asks when he strolls through the living room to see Namjoon. “Did you find a movie yet?”

“Got here a minute ago.” Namjoon responds.

“Haven’t been on here in so long. Forgot how to work the app.” Jimin retorts.

“Eventually you’re going to have to get over it.” Jungkook makes his way towards the kitchen to grab a plate. He then walks back towards the livingroom to gather a few slices of pizza for you. 

“Forget about the ultimate betrayal?” Jimin scoffs. “Never.”

“Where are you going?” Taehyung asks, eyeing Jungkook. 

“I’m just saving myself some pizza.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “Might be hungry in the middle of the night.”

Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Jungkook makes his way down the hall and back towards his room. “Special delivery.” he scurries in to drop the plate on his bedside table. “I can’t  wait for you to sit on my face later.”

“Don’t think you getting any pussy after keeping me in this room.” you retort, not removing your eyes from the screen. 

Jungkook snorts. “We’ll see about that.” He doesn’t have time for a petty argument, because that would only turn it to him fucking you into the mattress - and now, he didn’t have time for that.

“Since when do you eat in your room?” Hoseok questions as Jungkook returns, a confused look on his face. “Since I got lazy.” Jungkook responds without a second thought, sitting next to Namjoon. “What are we watching?” Jungkook is barely able to focus on the movie. He eats a couple slices of pizza, his eyes watching the movie that his mind refuses to acknowledge. He would rather be with you watching Law & Order - he knows by now you two would be cuddling. You would rub your ass against him slightly, pretending to be occupied with the show and that would be his que to-

“You don’t look interested.”

Jungkook blinks a few times and then turns to Namjoon, the source of the voice. 

“Just thinking.” Jungkook shrugs. 

“About Y/N?”

Jungkook cracks his neck, only snorting. 

“Jimin told me you were whipped. Didn’t tell me you couldn’t go a day without thinking about her.” Namjoon teases, his dimples deepening when he smirks. 

“Are you two talking about Y/N?” Jimin crosses his arms. He’s laying against the arm of the couch, his eyes piercing at Jungkook. 

“I sense one sided beef.” Taehyung calls.

“Because of her,” Jimin starts, and Namjoon groans, having heard this rant time and time again. “I was removed from all the streaming services. Not just one - all.”

“I gave you several warnings.” Jungkook grumbles. 

Hoseok snickers. “Like what?”

“I told him when Y/N usually watches her shows.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“You give her access to streaming services so she can watch True Crime.” Jimin deadpans, an unamused look on his face. “When you end up on one of those documentaries because she slipped something in your drink-”

Jungkook sighs, leaning back into the couch. “Can we watch the movie-”

“- and murdered you, Jungkook. I will be on there telling the audience that there was red flags.”

Jungkook’s phone vibrates in his lap. He unlocks it, your name popping up.

Y/N 🥰: does jimin want to fight me?

Jungkook smirks.

“When are you going to admit you like Y/N?” Jungkook asks as he responds to your text. 

“And while we’re on the topic,” Taehyung pauses the movie. “how did you get her mother’s number?”

You were only curious in the conversation outside the bedroom once you began to hear speaking. You never turn down an episode of Law & Order, and thankfully you had. You were told by Jungkook that Jimin liked you - his words now say otherwise.

You were growing bored. The pizza was already gone and Jungkook didn’t bring you anything to drink.

But the most important thing was that you were bored - and feeling petty. 

you: I miss you

You didn’t miss him - you were bored and that’s different.

You watch as Jungkook reads the text instantly and begins typing.

kookie 🍪: i miss you too 🥹😍😏

you: can’t tell

you: you’re shit talking me with your lame friends

kookie 🍪: never. I got jimin to admit that he likes you more than he admits 🤙🏻

kookie 🍪: are you hungry still?

You grunt. You couldn’t be petty with Jungkook if he was offering to feed you.

you: no

you: just bored…

You bite your lip as Jungkook types. You suddenly open the camera app and take a picture. It’s a simple picture, you smiling in the camera.

Jungkook swallows, his eyes zoning in on the picture of you. Your robe was opened slightly more and he has a peak at your breast. 

“If it wasn’t for me he’d still be in the friend zone probably leasing cars for her attention.” Jimin retorts at Taehyung. Hoseok laughs at the comment. 

kookie 🍪: you’re so beautiful ♥️

kookie 🍪: the robe is nice on you

kookie 🍪: i can buy you more if you’d like

You snicker at Jungkook’s response. The man didn’t know what to do now and his first option was to spend if it meant that you’d send him more pictures.

“I feel like I should be compensated for my hard work.” Jimin exclaims. “Who else can say they got Jungkook out of the friendzone?”

“They were fucking. Don’t think that’s just a friend zone.” Namjoon announces. “Raw at that.”

Y/N 😍: i seem to be the topic of conversation tonight

Y/N 😍: i wish you were as interested in me as your friends are 🤭

Jungkook glances up at his bickering friends for a moment before texting back.

kookie 🍪: im beginning to think i spoil you if you cant be without me for a few hours… 😌

You’re taken aback by the tone in the message. As if you needed him - you didn’t. You were just bored and feeling a little confrontational today. 

Besides, Jungkook wasn’t going to have the last word.

“I still want to be a fly on the wall.” Hoseok adds. “Whatever she’s doing that has Jungkook worshiping the ground she walks on needs to be studied.”

“That or you’re just a pervert.” Taehyung shrugs. 

Jungkook glances down at his phone and coughs. Eyes turn to him suddenly and Jungkook stands. “I-I’m not feeling…my stomach hurts.” he makes his way down the hall and goes to open his bedroom door.

You giggle when you hear the bedroom door twist.

You’ve locked it before sending Jungkook the picture. You were already naked, mind as well use it to your advantage.

kookie 🍪: oh

kookie: open the door

you: enjoy your movie night

You hear the door knob shuffle once more. 

kookie 🍪: open the door

kookie 🍪: stop ignoring me baby

kookie 🍪: i can always break the door down

kookie 🍪 : then they’ll know you’re here

kookie 🍪: and hoseok already wants to be a fly on the wall

kookie 🍪: and i have no intentions of stopping once i have you on my tongue

You flung the door open with wide eyes. “Are you-”

Jungkook pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. “Just sit on my face.” he grumbles, hands pushing you backwards.

It doesn’t take long for your robe to be discarded on the ground. He takes in your naked sight and sighs with a shake of his head. “So needy.” he murmurs, laying down on his bed. “You missed me, huh? And it hasn’t even been a full movie length.”

“Did not.” you reject, pussy already in his face.

Jungkook clenches both of your legs. “Is that why you’re already wet?” his tongue licks your clit and hums. “It’s okay to admit you missed me, baby.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond, he’s already diving head first into your. He suckles and slurps loudly, his hands keeping you in place. This time, he doesn’t care if you preferred him to now watch - he does anyways. His eyes are intense on watching you be pleasured by him - the cute needy moans, the fucked out look on your face. He wanted to experience it all.

“Your friends are gonna know you’re gone.” you whimper as Jungkook laps his tongue slowly between your folds. 

Jungkook leans back only slightly. “Do you want me to stop?” he questions.

You shake your head, and that’s all the convincing Jungkook needs. His right palm slapped your thigh. “Then I won’t. Now just ride my face until you cum.”

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his excessive need to make you cum.

However, you do as you’re told. Your hips buckle against his tongue, your head falling back - mainly to avoid Jungkook’s gaze. It was his favorite part, he once told you, to watch you cum. 

Jungkook’s tongue feels amazing - and it’s the same tongue. It shouldn’t feel better than the last time, but somehow it does. Maybe it’s the way his hands rub along your thighs as you ride along his tongue - or maybe it’s the way he grips your breast and pinch your nipples that are an added bonus. 

Jungkook’s hands never stayed in one spot. They’re soon cupping your ass to encourage you to grind against him harder - how he never suffocates is beyond you.

“O-Oh, fuck.” Jungkook hears you hiss and he squeezes your ass even harder. His own breathing increases as he watches you - he can do this for as long as you wanted. You were so beautiful when you were aroused and cumming - it’s a sight he has engraved in his mind.

“I know you’re about to cum.” Jungkook says muffledly. His head bops back and forth, in rhythm with your grinding. He also knows how you enjoy the way he touches you, your ass being your favorite part. He probably will never know why girls enjoyed pain mixed with pleasure, but he was nothing but a man made to pleasure you.

So, Jungkook slaps your ass encouragingly, making sure to give it a good grip after each slap.

You needed to know what it was about Jungkook - and his tongue, fingers or cock - that has you cumming so harshly on his tongue like he wants you to; and even then he refuses to stop until you’re twitching.

Jungkook doesn’t allow you to fall back like you want to, his hands grasp your twitching form and assures that you’re placed on the bed.

Licking his lips, Jungkook smirks. “My pretty girl.” he says, kissing your forehead. “I’m going to continue my movie night, okay? Then I’m going to come back here and you’re going to sit on my face again.”

You nod your head lazily, not having it in you to argue. 

“I knew you were so down bad for me, baby.” Jungkook teases. He places the blanket over your naked body. “One day, I won’t need to fuck it out of you for you to admit.”

“Fuck you.” you hiss when Jungkook is half-way out the door.

“Trust me. I will.” Jungkook chuckles, closing the door behind him, leaving you in a state of arousal and anticipation.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and his good dick, fingers, tongue and heart.

Series Masterlist

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