#holy shit my heart just exploded

[chongoblog]

Good morning.

I think that mashup I put out last night is the best mashup I've ever made.

[moe-broey]

GOD I would HATE to be stuck at a family dinner with them 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭���😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 I would NOT fucking survive, the vibes alone would do 1000 points poison damage to me 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Also JUST. JUST.

THE VIBES. ARE RANCID. SHARENA DARLING YOU DESERVE SO MUCH BETTER THAN THIS (ALFPNSE TOO BUT DEAR LORD. Sharena LITERALLY was just told to Don't Speak Unless Spoken To RANCID. RANCID FUCKING FAMILY)

[mirror-to-the-past]

I am but a measly 2:00:15 into the genre-defining "Riku is Gay" video, but like. Damn, Tennelle Flowers is a cinematic genius. I've remained so thoroughly enthralled by the tasteful spacing of audio commentary, clips from the games, and excerpts from the novels/writer interviews that I've hardly even noticed the time passing. What is this video laced with, man- I love video essays, but usually I have to rewind a gazillion times due to my attention slipping against my will.

That collage of comparison clips from KH2 Beast's arc and Riku's KH1-KH2 arc is killing me, man. Ever wish you could tattoo a part of a video to your forehead? Apparently, now I do.

[subaru-meteorlight]

.

[guardianspirits13]

Just saw The Wild Robot and uh. Holy shit y'all weren't lying. I don't cry at movies. This had me in tears.

If "Wish" is our benchmark for soulless animation, then The Wild Robot is the definition of soul. It was breathtaking.

The soundtrack and visuals almost made my heart explode from a serotonin overdose and I got chills during multiple scenes. It's such a powerful and visually striking movie with strong characters and the story to back them up.

This is the sort of movie that theaters were made for, like you have to see it in a dark room on a huge screen because it will change your life.

Pleaseeee go watch and support this wonderful movie!!!

(Second that if you don't want Inside Out 2 to win the animation Oscar because if it does then the appreciation of true art has been lost to the world

[leonsgfpost]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You take care of your pretty boyfriend after a long day at work!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: Leon!Needy, Doggy Style, Creampie, Overstimulate, RE2!Leon x Fem!Reader and more.

When he came home earlier than usual, you knew something was wrong. Out of place. His breathing was heavy, perhaps too tired for the day he'd had at the police station or his little fight with all those rows of paperwork. He was tired of dealing with motorist infraction work.

So, why not spoil your cute boyfriend a little?

First, you lovingly masturbated him while he massaged your breasts over your (his) shirt. Little low moans escaped his lips as you touched him from tip to base. Then, you rode him to his second orgasm and let his mouth latch onto your nipple.

And now, you were face down on the couch with your ass in the air and his shirt hanging lazily off your shoulders. Listening to his moans fanning against your ear, almost matching the wet sounds of your greedy pussy.

"Damn, wait for this all day-" He stammer senselessly, almost babbling from the way his sensitive cock desperately seeks his third orgasm. His hands stroking your sides in an attempt to cling to something, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts.

"Y-You always make me feel so good, baby..." He murmured, ever so cute. Like a puppy desperately seeking comfort from its owner. Maybe he wasn't so far from reality. And you had to hold back a laugh as you heard his voice shake, as if he was going to cry at any moment.

"It's okay, it feels good Lee..." You moaned softly, giving him those words of comfort he was looking for. You could feel his cock trembling inside your walls just from hearing your sweet voice.

"I know, I know. I-ah I feel like I'm losing my mind-!" He started babbling some more, gripping the armrest of the couch and his other hand grabbing one of your breasts. His hips began to stumble more and more, in a sloppy rhythm. His fingers roamed all over your abdomen in search of your clit, trying to make those quick circles you loved so much. His moans were louder than yours, his mouth open and his brows furrowed almost painfully at the sensitivity of his cock throbbing desperately inside the warmth of your pussy that wept down your thighs.

You stirred underneath him from the stimulation, trying to get away from his greedy hips. Your face was red, and your hair sticking to your skin damp with sweat.

"No, No baby... Please stay..." He said, panicking. Starting to push his chest against your back, trying to mobilize you against the couch. He closed his eyes, panting heavily as his pelvis slammed relentlessly against your ass. His lips ran down your cheeks, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your hot skin. It was too hot, but the exhaustion of his body was nothing compared to his desire to fill your pussy for the second time. He still had his white t-shirt wrinkled above his abdomen and his light blue uniform shirt open, hopefully he had taken off his pants.

That's how desperate he was.

"Ah, Shit, Shit." He groaned, burying his face in your hair and crushing you against the couch, feeling like he was about to explode again. His heart was beating fast, his lips open and his eyes closed tightly from the intensity bubbling at the tip of his cock.

His fingers increased the rhythm on your swollen clit, trying to make you feel good but his brain was completely fucked up to notice that he was already cumming.

"Oh god, god, holy shit-!" he moaned in a choked groan, thrusting his cock as deep as he could to completely fill your walls with his load.

He shuddered hard, hugging you and letting his balls empty in jagged spurts inside you. The room filled with his heavy breaths and your little moans as he continued to thrust you awkwardly with his hips. Until he lay motionless on top of you.

"Do you...do you want to ride me again? Please-?" He murmured, leaving trembling kisses on whatever expanse of skin he would find and his hand beginning to play with your breast lazily.

Your boy is a needy little thing.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hey! It's me again, I'm addicted to writing about Leon being so needy and wild ahg.

Special mention to @ilylovelyz for the comments and the idea, thanks again pookie 🫶🏻 💕

(💌) bye, bye !

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

come back. l Joel Miller

Summary: first steps together

Warnings:  +18, smut, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that), Ellie is mean to Joel

A/N: I guess I'm not done with them yet. Sorry!

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

Everything was getting out of control, or maybe that's how it was supposed to be. Maybe he had already forgotten what it was like to lose control over himself, to be carried away by the moment and emotions, when instincts take over you, when you're a little selfish. Now it was all happening at once and Joel felt like a hurricane was raging in his body.

Your lips tasted of sweet wine, he felt the curves of your body under his hands, your fingers were intertwined in his hair. And he felt amazing. 

You were sitting astride his lap. The dress you were wearing was rolled up enough so that Joel's hands had access to your thighs.

Holy shit! Everything he had closed so tightly years ago was now exploding with new force.

He invited you to dinner, to spend the evening as if the world outside the walls of Jackson hadn't gone crazy, and you were just two people close to each other. When you showed up at his door in that dress, Joel believed that this could really happen.

You looked different than usual. You were a little embarrassed, it had been years since you last wore something nice. Joel's reaction was also specific, he was totally surprised and had a hard time greeting you.

And now you were on this couch, and his tongue was deep in your throat. Big, strong hands squeezed your buttocks, and you moaned feeling the hard bulge in his jeans under you.

"Wait." he whispered, pulling away from your lips for a moment, his hair was already a total mess from your hands. "Are you sure you want this?"

"Joel..." you sighed, smiling. "Do you think I would wear a dress if I wasn't sure?"

You saw him swallow. The last parts of his brain were trying to fight something he wanted so badly. He saw your glazed eyes, swollen lips, you were breathing deeply and your chest was heaving gently.

"Don't you like me?" Your question tore him from his stream of thoughts.

He grabbed your hand and slid it between your bodies where his hard cock was trying to get out of his jeans. You smiled and bit your lower lip feeling the hard shape under your fingers.

"That's a nice compliment." you stated "Please, Joel... I've been thinking about you for so long. Don't make me wait."

"Were you thinking about me?" he asked and you nodded eagerly.

"I didn't want to tell you anything though. We were friends, partners. Besides, Ellie was with us. I didn't want to, I didn't want to say something that you wouldn't reciprocate, and I would ruin what we had."

"Fuck, darling." he sighed, with difficulty pulling your hand away from his crotch. Just a little more and he would have exploded into his jeans like a fucking teenager. "I- I thought about you too. So many times..."

"Did you touch yourself then?" he looked at you surprised. "Once, when you were on watch, I woke up and I think I heard you. I didn't want to disturb you, but then I heard my name and..."

Joel cleared his throat. "Yeah, I guess I did. It's embarrassing."

"It's sexy." you corrected him and kissed him hard so he would definitely believe your words. "Take me to your bed, Joel."

You didn't have to repeat it a second time.

Although Joel had seen you naked before, he had never seen you like this. His eyes took you all in. When the dress fell to the floor, his heart stopped for a moment, then started racing.

"What do you think?" you asked uncertainly.

He was unable to answer, his voice caught in his throat. Instead, his hands rested on your face and he kissed you hard. Your fingers unbuttoned his shirt and soon moved to his chest.

Joel couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like this. Gently, with feeling. Your closeness and tenderness were peeling off layers of him, and it wasn't just about clothes. 

You stumbled backwards and your legs hit the edge of the bed. Joel slowly laid you down, and then his eyes moved over your entire body.

"Stunning." He said quietly, and you could see in his eyes that he was telling the truth.

He slowly unbuckled the belt on his jeans and slid them down, his dark eyes never leaving your face. Without a word, his hands reached for the edges of your panties and slid them too.

Your skin was already so sensitive that every touch of his was felt by you even more strongly. You had never felt anything like this before.

Joel climbed onto the bed and closed you between his broad shoulders. Your lips found each other again. The heat radiating from his body was overwhelming and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. You wanted to feel him next to you, on you, inside you, in every way possible.

Only him.

Kisses went down to your neck and cleavage, you moaned softly as he squeezed your breast.

"You're perfect..." he whispered "So fucking perfect..."

"Joel, please..." you moaned.

You needed anything to help you, to give you relief, from the growing arousal between your thighs. And he gave it to you. The same hand slid down your hip and found your hot center, you were already wet and slippery with desire.

"For me?" Joel smiled slyly, and you felt the heat creep up your neck.

"Please..."

The colossal fingers slid over your folds and soon you felt a pleasant pressure as they slid into your heated core.

"Fuck, baby..." Joel looked in awe where his fingers disappeared inside you "You wrap them so well. I can't wait to be inside you."

You couldn't answer. The feeling was overwhelming, you would never be able to give yourself something like that. Joel's fingers seemed to find all the spots in you that made your head spin. You gasped as his warm lips captured your nipple, sucking hard. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it harder than you intended. You were so close...

"I'm holding you, baby girl." his warm breath on your sternum "Let it go."

He lightly bit your other breast, his fingers sliding in and out of you harder and harder and soon you were tightening your legs around his hand as the pleasure flooded your body.

"Fuuuuck!" you moaned, arching your back.

Joel had never seen you more beautiful. He wanted more. To see, to feel, to taste, to experience. With you. 

He slid down his boxers, and his hard, swollen cock appeared in full. Joel grabbed it at the base and rubbed your juices along its entire length.

"It's been a while." he said, noticing your gaze. "I can...fuck... I might not last long."

"I don't care, Joel." you said. "I want to feel you. This is enough for me. I want you to cum too."

The head of his cock brushed against your entrance. For a moment you felt anxiety whether he would fit, whether you would be enough for him, but then you felt him start to slide into you. Inch by inch. 

Your walls stretched and took him inside, your hands tightened around his strong shoulders. When Joel entered all the way, you both froze for a moment. He rested his forehead on your shoulder, breathing deeply.

"Fuck..." he sighed "I didn't expect this, give me a moment."

"Take as much as you need." You replied, stroking his shoulders. "You feel wonderful. You fill me completely."

After a short moment, his hips moved. He pulled out a little and pushed, as if to see if he could hold out. You pulled your legs up, and he tightened his grip on your thigh, then lifted his head and looked straight into your eyes. You didn't need words.

Joel's movements were steady, aimed straight at that spot he found inside you, that made you fall apart under his hands. He wanted to see it again, he wanted to feel you clenching around his cock now. Your panting mixed with the dirty sounds of skin slapping against skin, with how wet you were as he entered you at that steady pace.

You pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. A hot tongue slipped between your lips and you moaned, but he silenced you well. He hit you harder, the air flew out of your lungs. Again and again. 

You woke up everything in him, between your thighs he could find fulfillment and redemption, he wanted it all, and you gave it to him with pleasure.

Another orgasm was building inside you incredibly fast.

"Joel..." you moaned.

He rested his arms on either side of you and didn't slow down. His eyes were black as night, he wanted to see you lose yourself in him again. He needed it.

"Give it to me again, baby. Don't hold back." he panted.

You didn't have a chance to answer. Another wave flooded your body and all your senses. Your eyes rolled back, you almost bit your lip. Joel didn't slow down, even though he was already close to the edge.

"Fuck!' he groaned loudly and pulled out of you.

His seed spurted onto your lower abdomen in hot streams. Although he was breathing deeply, he felt like he was constantly out of breath. He squeezed his eyelids shut trying to calm down. Only your delicate hand, which rested on his cheek, brought him back to life.

"Shit, baby..." he mumbled "I'll clean it up right away. I didn't think that... That was..."

You lifted yourself up and kissed him, and Joel returned the kiss with pleasure. You felt the smile that appeared on his lips and you smiled to yourself. 

This was it. This was the guy who was always there for you, who always gave you his arm as support, who shielded you with his body, who was there for you. He was everything.

His heart gave a strange throb when, going downstairs, he heard familiar chatter in the kitchen. Ellie was delighted with something and was telling you about something, and the pleasant smell of breakfast and coffee filled the house.

His clean shirt clung to his still damp body, and his hair was still wet, even though he had combed it back. When he woke up next to you in the morning, he couldn't help himself. You were still a bit sleepy when he slid into you, but you welcomed him with pleasure. 

It was slow, tender and gentle. He imagined mornings like this when he allowed his thoughts to be carefree for a moment. After everything, he pulled you into the shower, where his hands shamelessly explored your body. He didn't know the words to describe what he felt.

When he went down to the kitchen, Ellie's gaze immediately landed on him. A victorious smile appeared on her face.

"I see the evening was a success." she said, and seeing Joel frowned, she quickly added "Can you still do these things, old man?" 

You barely managed to stop yourself from bursting out laughing and were glad that you were standing with your back to Joel, making him coffee. Ellie was probably going to give him hell.

"That's none of your business, kid." Joel grumbled.

"I hope you're wrapping yourself up, because I'm not going to babysit your kids." she added. "You have to be a fucking responsible adult, Joel."

"Can you... Fuck!"

You quickly turned around and put the cup of coffee in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Ellie looked at both of you and shook her head.

"I think I'll go now." she said, standing up and putting the last piece of toast in her mouth. "The atmosphere is getting stuffy."

"It's not getting stuffy at all." Joel replied, but she was already putting on her jacket.

"Wrap yourself up!"

"Ellie!"

The girl smiled at him widely, seeing that she hit all the soft spots and quickly gathered her things. Soon the front door slammed and her footsteps echoed on the porch.

"Don't be mad at her, she loves to tease you." you said seeing Joel roll his eyes "She was happy to see me here this morning."

"The house was empty without you, she wasn't the only one who missed your presence."

He walked up to you, his hands resting on your waist. You were wearing some of your old clothes and he wished it was yesterday's dress. You looked so good in it.

"I'm glad you stayed," he said.

"Me too." you replied stroking his cheek, he kissed the inside of your wrist tenderly and you smiled "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

"Come back here." Joel interrupted you, a small wrinkle appearing between your eyebrows "Move back here. I don't want another morning without you, it was torture."

"Joel..." your lips lightly brushed his "Are you sure? Maybe we shouldn't..."

"I'm fucking sure. Listen, I've wasted a lot of time. I don't want to do this anymore. When you left..." he sighed as if he remembered something really bad "It wasn't just this house that was empty, you know."

"I felt the same way. I was hurt, but I couldn't stop thinking about you or Ellie. You're all I have."

"So come back to us. To me. Please..."

Your smile was the answer he needed. He leaned in, kissing you hard. That day, he felt like he was finally alive.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi

[teafromthemicrowave]

THE FIC AND THE ART BOTH ARE ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL I WILL THROW UP/POS OMFG

portrait of god

based on this incredible fic by @arcadecarpetgay !! you must read this immediately i think about it on a daily basis

closeups under cut

[cinnaminsvga]

Harana | Jungkook

harana (n.): the act of wooing someone by serenading them

→ summary:

Unwilling to settle down with you after five years of dating, Jeon Jungkook decides to break up to chase after his dreams. In the aftermath, you leave your hometown, desperate to forget your past and relearn what it means to be on your own. Two years later while on your way to work, you pass by a familiar voice singing songs about a girl he had left behind.

{or alternatively: Jungkook still sings the love songs that he wrote for you. He still means them, too.}

→ genre: busker!au, exes to lovers, angst, humor → warnings: jimin is insane and kinda crude (he has some issues going on), jungkook is a pathetic wet bunny but he's trying his best, oc has So Many Problems, so much arguing and yearning, ambiguous ending??? but my god there is hope!! the humanity of it all!! → words: 16.1K → a/n: HOLY SHIT IM BACK (kinda) and happy new year!! yeah ok its march but im relearning how to form coherent sentences so be patient ;w; this is the first installment of my hfoh series that i teased a LONG time ago... i made it a resolution to complete this series by the end of the year before i kms (Keep Myself Safe) so here's to a brand new year :D (oh god @ universe pls be kind)

part of the “heart full of hugot” series

Two days before the incident, your shower nozzle decides to explode.

Okay, you have to admit that statement is a little misleading. Shower nozzles, in all its nonsentience, do not randomly decide to explode no matter how much you try to defend yourself to your landlord. Maybe your grip had been a little too harsh that morning, or maybe hanging 5 pounds of hair products on the handle had been a bit too much for the old sport to handle. Or maybe, just maybe, the universe was warning you about the incident.

Whatever it was, it doesn’t erase the fact that your shower would be out of commission for the next week or so (though your landlord seems adamant about prolonging your suffering as long as possible). Until then, you’re going to have to find some other ways to keep the grease and grime from building on you. Heavens know that you already have a thriving ecosystem living in the back of your couch—you don’t need another one growing under your armpits. 

Lucky for you, you have friends. More importantly, you have friends who have showers. There is one problem though—all your friends live on the other side of the country. 

It’s been two years since you moved to the Big City™️, but you have done little to grow your social network. Call it introversion or depression, either way, you have no more contacts on your phone than you did when you left your hometown. Well, except for one person, if you could even consider him one. Frankly, you didn’t have a choice.

“Welcome to my humble abode, stinky,” Jimin greets you as you enter his house. Your nose is instantly assaulted by the smell of Bath & Body Works® Sweet Pea, reminding you once more why you didn’t consider him a friend. 

“Hey,” you reply gruffly, shucking your ratty shoes near his entrance. Your shoes look incredibly out of place amidst the sea of designer Chelsea boots and a singular pair of thigh-high heels. You take a glance at his living room, already feeling worse about yourself tenfold.

You had met Park Jimin by complete accident, much like how his mother probably felt when she first saw him too. You had never known anyone quite as… interesting as him, to put it lightly. 

When you got your job as a hostess for a luxury bar and restaurant, you figured you wouldn’t make many friends with your coworkers. Everyone was so… pretty, but in the shiny, untouchable sort of way. Almost all of the servers were as gorgeous as the models you’d see in magazines. You hadn’t known that the owners only hired a certain “demographic” of people for their restaurant, and you were equal parts flattered and disgusted that you’d somehow made it (though you suppose your bullshitting skills were all to thank). 

Unsurprisingly, even the bartenders were gorgeous, including one Park Jimin. He did have an aura to him that screamed “I’m a cut above the rest and I know it,” but that could just be the gold chains dripping down his neck. You almost mistook him as one of the patrons who mistakenly made his way behind the bar, and knowing the sort of clientele you’ve had to deal with so far, you wouldn’t have been surprised. It took a couple of weeks before you finally found out who he was (and what his fucking problem was).

Jimin was a part-time bartender with a full-time job as a bitch a self-made entrepreneur. Which is to say, he sold… tasteful photos of himself on the internet. You had nothing against his line of work. In fact, you would go far as to say you didn’t give a shit what he did outside of your shared workspace. But if there’s one thing Jimin is, it’s that he hates being ignored. 

So when you were adamant about not oohing and aahing at everything that makes Park Jimin perfect, he made it his self-appointed mission to befriend you. Or at least that’s what he claims, but given how he treats you lesser than the shit that cakes his cheeks, you have a lot of doubts. Perhaps he’s never made an effort to make a friend, hence his inexperience with being a decent human being. Or perhaps he’s just an asshole, but who is to say? The point is: he’s the only person you knew in this godforsaken city who would likely allow you to use his shower without being awkward about it and that’s that. 

The worst part about being an acquaintance with Park Jimin was that he lived in the richest area of Downtown but he wasn’t old money, that’s for sure. His entire essence screamed overconsumption, and his myriad of little trinkets littered across his apartment confirmed your previous assessment. You wouldn’t be surprised if you opened his freezer and found ten types of ice sorted assorted by color and shape like the extra bitch that he was. 

He made his money through sheer force, and it would have impressed you if he wasn’t, you know. Him.

“Bathroom is over there. I placed a towel and other shower amenities that you can borrow,” he says pointing to a door with a large “FART ZONE: ENTER WITH CAUTION” sign taped to it. You don’t ask.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You wait patiently for his out-of-pocket comment. 

Like clockwork, Jimin smirks. “Sure thing. I gave you the super heavy-duty stuff. Figured you’d burn a hole through my expensive towels with how stinky you are, with your yeasty cu—”

“Aaaand I’ll be done in a few minutes. Thanks again Jimin,” you interrupt, making your way to the bathroom and slamming the door with as much force as you can muster. You hear something fall as the door shuts, and you vaguely hear Jimin mutter something about his “fart zone” signage. 

You begin to prepare your shower routine, humming lowly as you go about your business. You try to ignore the suffocating scent of ten million diffusers entering your nostrils, wondering for the umpteenth time if Jimin is suffering from long-term olfactory dysfunction. 

“Focus, Y/N. The quicker you shower, the quicker you can get the fuck out of here,” you whisper to yourself. However, in your haste, you knock over Jimin’s towel by accident. When the towel falls, a sheet of sandpaper slips out from underneath it, and you stare bemusedly until it finally hits you.

“YOU ARE SUCH A LITTLE BITCH!” 

From behind the door, you can hear Jimin’s infamous cackle. “Did you find the loofah? I got it just for you, darling!” he shouts back through his laughter, and you just grumble back in response. How on earth no one has strangled him to death, you have no idea.

“Whatever. I’m gonna shower now! Go beat off or whatever the fuck you do in your spare time,” you grouse, stripping as quickly as possible.

When the first droplets of water hit your body, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. You had both anticipated and dreaded going to Jimin’s house, but you desperately needed the shower. So you go through your routine, trying to find some semblance of relaxation throughout the process. However, it seems that Jimin was yearning for a little bit of attention as he chose to recline on the other side of the door and chat your ear off. Peace was never an option, it seems.

“Hey, Y/N! So why haven’t I seen you at work recently?” Jimin hollers from his living room. Despite the wall separating you, his voice manages to retain its volume.

You squirt a large glob of Jimin’s (expensive) conditioner onto your hands. “What do you mean? I go to work every day. You were the one who hasn’t been clocking in.”

You can hear Jimin scoff. “Um, correction! I went to work last Friday, which so happened to be your day off. If I didn’t know any better, I would have assumed you were avoiding me.”

And right you are, you think. But instead, you say, “Yeah, what a coincidence. I’ll be back to my regular schedule on Monday, though.”

“So that means you didn’t see the Justin Bieber wannabe stationed outside the restaurant then?” Jimin asks, voice miffed. “The guy suddenly sat down by the entrance window and a whole damn crowd started to appear! The absolute nerve of these people—don’t they know Park Jimin was just past the doors?” 

This provokes Jimin to go on his long epic soliloquy, which you’ve learned to drown out over the past two years. He could go on hour-long tirades if he wanted, and any interruption from you would just bounce off his nonfunctioning ears. And so, you allow his voice to fall to the back of your mind, similar to white noise if it wasn’t so grating.

However, this was likely your greatest mistake. If you hadn’t been so exhausted, or if Park Jimin hadn’t been so damn annoying all the time, or if the stars had aligned just right… Maybe you would have been forewarned about the incident. It’s as if the universe was screaming at you to pay attention, but alas… You were standing on the proverbial highway, unbeknownst to the incoming traffic because you had your metaphorical AirPods on.

So there you are, completely showered but none the wiser to your impending doom, naively looking to the future with unsuspecting eyes. Even if you had known of what was to come, would avoiding it even be possible? In hindsight, you suppose not, but you still kick yourself for being so blind. If only you’d steeled your heart, then maybe you wouldn’t have felt like vomiting in front of a crowd of innocent bystanders the very next day.

xxx

Monday comes and your shower still isn’t fixed. Jimin makes the benevolent gesture of allowing you to use his shower in the meantime, though you’ll only partake in his offer as minimally as possible. He does mention that he’ll need at least an hour’s notice, warning you about “accidental voyeurism.” You shudder to think of what sort of horror you might find if you did visit him without warning, and you pray for the continued well-being of your retinas.

On your way to work, you’re too busy watching cute videos of animals to notice the unusual flock of people idling close to your workplace. When you get closer, however, the growing commotion is enough to rip your gaze away from your phone, and the sight of the large crowd makes you stop in your tracks. 

It is 4 pm and the usual line of waiting patrons should not start piling up for another three hours, so this confuses you more than anything. You shuffle closer, squinting at the crowd until you notice that they aren’t lined up at all; instead, they have congregated into a large circle, but you are too far to see what they are surrounding. 

An accident? You worry, wondering if something terrible happened. You tiptoe above the heads of people, subtly moving forward to take a better look. Curse you and your curiosity. You take a deep breath, bracing yourself to see something grotesque or astonishing, but instead…

It’s worse.

Inching closer, you can begin to hear a soft thrumming of a guitar and a gentle singing voice that causes alarm bells to ring in your ears. The warm melody digs up old memories of a time long past: of ballads sung outside your childhood bedroom window, of promises whispered under Spiderman sheets, of tender caresses tucking stray hairs behind your ears… They flood your senses, but all you can feel is dread.

It can’t be who you think it is. You accidentally elbow a guy on your way to get closer, unsteadying his grip on his phone. 

“Hey, watch it! I’m filming a totally not-staged TikTok over here!” He yells, but you can hardly pay attention to him when you feel unnaturally drawn to come closer, still. 

You’re nearly at the front, with just a couple of teenagers standing between you and the (not-so) mysterious street performer. But the distance is enough, and your breath catches. You can see him—

Black hair partially hidden under a bucket hat. Boots bigger than Pangaea and a pair of eyes equally as large. Dark ink snaking down his arms, peeking out from under oversized sleeves. Piercings that could rival Park Jimin on a good day. He isn’t facing you, but you can still see his big doe eyes, gentle sloping nose, and pretty lips stretched into a handsome smile.

Your heart is thundering in your chest. This can’t be happening, you panic. After two whole years of rebuilding and reshaping yourself, relearning how to be yourself and not… not just his girlfriend.

Jeon Jungkook stands before you, busking in front of your workplace of all locations. The universe could not have been any crueler to you.

You—you had been known as nothing more than Jeon Jungkook’s high school sweetheart. Buried memories of snide comments from jealous teen girls fill your mind, reminding you of the time when you were coined a simple side piece to the main attraction. Decor, as they would call you. Nothing more than a girl who happened to snag Jungkook before people realized he was going to turn… hot. A hot guy who could sing. An inevitable chic magnet, as they would call him. 

And now, years later after much therapy and soul searching, your worst nightmare is standing in front of you in the flesh. This is what you will eventually dub the incident. 

At that moment, however, there is little to no time to dwell on naming this ongoing core memory. All you can feel is the adrenaline pumping through your veins, as well as the nausea rising up your throat. You stumble backward, blatantly shoving onlookers away as you struggle to find some air to breathe. In hindsight, you probably should have backed away as subtly as possible, but you hope that your dyed hair might be different enough that Jungkook wouldn’t know it was you if he had glanced your way. 

Even when you stagger towards your work establishment, the walls cannot perfectly muffle his soothing singing. You can’t make out the lyrics to his song too well, but his unmistakable voice is hard to ignore. Working as a hostess, your station is also coincidentally as close to the door as possible for maximum torture. 

This can’t get any worse, you think as your mind races with conflicting emotions. You thought you had moved on, thought you were past the pain and the memories, but seeing Jungkook again, unexpectedly, stirs up a storm of feelings you thought were buried deep. Anger, hurt, betrayal—all rush to the surface, threatening to overwhelm you.

But there is no time to unpack all that baggage right now. Time will continue to march on, and your job is still on the line. How can you have the time to have a mental breakdown when you were still living paycheck to paycheck?

But even as you try to push Jungkook out of your mind, his voice echoes in your ears, his image burned into your memory. It's as if the universe is laughing at your misery, reminding you that despite all your supposed growth, you are still just you. 

Painfully and pathetically you.

As you struggle to pull yourself together, a familiarly loud voice rings outside the edge of your consciousness. “Hey, Y/N! Fancy seeing you here…” Jimin greets you, his usual jovial demeanor halting midway when he sees your panicked expression. He clears his throat, perplexed. “Umm… Are you alright there, girl? You’re looking a little pale.”

You do not even have the mental capacity to wonder why Park Jimin was miraculously early to his shift, nor why he seems genuinely worried for you. Rather, all you can do is wave him off and use what little time you have before the restaurant opens to steel yourself for hours of melodious torture. 

“I’m fine, Park. You should get to work,” you grit out, wiping your sweaty palms on your uniform. Normally, Jimin would have teased you about the obvious wrinkles on your skirt. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Jimin huffs, always the contrarian. He thinks better of it, however, and softens his tone. “Are you feeling sick or something? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You freeze, perhaps giving yourself away a little. “I’m fine,” you repeat. 

“You know, if you refuse to elaborate, I’m going to have to retract your shower privileges,” Jimin taunts with a smirk. 

You feel a migraine growing by your temple, making you wince. God, why must men be the source of all your problems?

“I’m just… a little annoyed by the busker outside the restaurant,” you eventually admit, trying to be vague. Unfortunately for you, Jimin hates beating around the bush and would never take your crap if he knows something is up.

Unable to withstand the weight of his unimpressed stare, you clarify, “He was someone I used to know, that’s all.” You aren’t going to be any more specific than that, though you imagine Jimin gets the picture. You zip your lips, hoping to whoever is causing you pain that Jimin would somehow let the matter drop and leave you to your misery.

You brace yourself for his onslaught of questioning to come, and… it doesn’t happen. Instead, when you glance at Jimin, he is mysteriously stone faced. You wait for him to speak for what feels like a few minutes, but he doesn’t show any signs of wanting to tease or ridicule you. He simply watches you with a pensive expression. You can barely stop yourself from staring back at him, slack-jawed at his silence. 

Of course, you aren’t just going to question your luck, or what little you have at least. So, you stay silent back and fidget uncomfortably.

Finally, Jimin seems to snap out of his strange reverie. He fixes you with a bizarrely sympathetic grin, patting you affectionately on the back. “I see… Well, if you ever need a drink tonight, head over to the bar for a little sip. I got you covered,” is all he says in response before sashaying away. 

That was so fucking weird. You want to chase after him, perhaps beat the truth out of him. Jimin is nothing but a scheming dick, and you aren’t about to let him roam free with such sensitive information about yourself. Just as you’re about to stomp his ass (perhaps to relieve some of the building tension from your weary soul), your manager pops his head from his office door. 

“Y/N! Make sure you’re logged into the booking system. There’s going to be a party of 20 coming in about an hour,” he reminds you, shooting you an apologetic look. You nod back with a sigh, swiping the booking tablet from the hostess desk and scrolling through the logs. Sure enough, it is going to be a busy night despite being a Monday evening. Perhaps a little busier than usual, in fact.

Whatever. You will use whatever distraction you can get, and perhaps the approaching noise from the restaurant patrons will be enough to drown out the sound of his voice. 

You aren’t religious by any means, but you pray to whatever higher power exists that Jeon Jungkook doesn’t somehow decide to enter the restaurant. Stay outside, you plead. Outside the restaurant and your life, if possible.

Throughout the evening, you do your best to push aside the memories that threaten to resurface. You greet customers with a smile, lead them to their tables, and ensure their dining experience is pleasant despite the anxiety poisoning your insides. It's a routine you've perfected over time, a shield against the chaos of your emotions.

As the night wears on, you can feel Jimin's eyes on you from across the restaurant. You sneak glances back at him, and you blanch at his pitying gaze. If the restaurant had been slightly less crowded, you would have flipped him off. 

He’s probably enjoying my suffering, you think darkly. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction, you straighten up and do your best to appear more unaffected. Just as you do so, you can hear Jungkook perfectly hitting a soulful high note. 

“I’m so sorry for thinking I was strong,” you whisper to the universe. “Forgive me for my insolence.” You clench your fist in anguish, ignoring the confused looks from the customers in front of you. 

By the time your shift comes to a close, you are completely and utterly drained. You feel like a snail that has been continuously salted over the past eight hours, and you cannot help but cheer in relief when the clock finally strikes two in the morning. You have to wait for the last few diners to make their leave, but otherwise you are ready to let your bed swallow you whole. 

You stand by your hostess desk, leaning your head against it with a defeated sigh. Jungkook’s voice had died down only a few minutes ago, and you hope that by this point he has mercifully left the premises. You want to take a peek to make sure, but just as you’re about to make your way to the door, you feel a hand on your shoulder stop you in your tracks.

“‘Sup, bitch.” Jimin still has that weird, pitying gaze pointed at you, though his words don’t match it. “Are you okay to go home alone tonight? I can bring your dumb ass home if you want.”

You shove his hand away, ready to bite his head off when you think better of it. If Jimin drives you home, then that lowers the chances of seeing Jungkook down to pretty much zero. 

“You know what? Thanks,” you grouse. Jimin smiles at you winningly, and the image of it brings a shiver down your spine. You hit him, creeped out. “Hey. Stop that, will you? You’re being really weird?”

Jimin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Me? Weird? At least I don’t look like a damn firework ready to explode just because my cringelord ex-boyfriend is singing sappy love songs outside—”

“Shut the fuck up,” you seethe, stomping on his foot. He yelps in pain and slaps your shoulder in retaliation. 

“Ouch! Watch your ogre feet! My shoes are worth twice your monthly rent I’ll have you know,” he bristles. He breathes deeply, likely finding his inner calm (which you doubt exists). “But because I’m so nice, I’ll ignore your earlier transgression and blame it on your underdeveloped amygdala.”

You don’t know what’s more surprising: the fact that Jimin knew what an amygdala was or that he was forgiving you in the first place. “Whatever. Let’s finish closing up and then head out. I’m exhausted.”

You make quick work of your task and when you’re ready to head out, Jimin is already waiting by the backdoor. He’s twirling his car keys with a finger and gestures for you to follow him. As you make your way to his car in the back parking lot, you catch sight of a lone figure standing next to a beat-up pickup truck. He’s leaning against it, his hands busy tuning a battered guitar.

Your breath hitches, and you immediately feel nauseous. Of course the incident has yet to end. The night is young, after all.

Jimin accidentally slams the backdoor closed, and the noise wrenches Jungkook’s attention away from his ministrations. Immediately, his eyes lock with Jimin before finally turning to you. 

Your heart skips a beat as he gazes at you, your mind racing with a hurricane of emotions. You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon, especially not after the tumultuous encounter earlier in the day. What did you say earlier? That “the chances of seeing Jungkook was down to pretty much zero”? 

The chances of seeing Jungkook is low, but never zero, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

There is a long period of awkward silence. Jungkook has his mouth slightly agape, his hand subconsciously lowering his guitar to rest against his truck. To your left, Jimin’s breathing quickens slightly. You, on the other hand, are trying your best not to projectile vomit in this damned parking lot. 

Jungkook is the one who decides to break the delicate silence. “Is that you…?” he calls out hesitantly. 

Don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my name don’t say my—

“Y/N,” Jimin interjects. His gaze is steel cold, uncharacteristic of the carefree boy. He slings an arm around your shoulders, gently nudging you towards his car. With your view still fixed on Jungkook, you miss the way Jimin shoots the other boy with a playful smirk. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go home.”

His words startle both you and Jungkook. “Wha—? Jimin?” you splutter, flushing at his flirtatious undertone. You want to curse him out for his strange behavior, but all the shock has left you mute. 

Jimin all but shoves you into the passenger seat. But just as he’s about to slam the car door, you hear Jungkook call out your name. It’s fleeting and quiet, but you heard him crystal clear.

It breaks your spirit to hear him say your name. For a moment, you feel as though you are floating.

When was the last time he called your name? And so softly, too? If you could replay that moment over and over, would you be able to catch some signs of tenderness in his voice? When you close your eyes later that night, would your dreams show you that he had been gazing at you with yearning? Was any of it true?

As Jimin starts the car and pulls away from the curb, you steal one last glance out the window, only to find Jungkook staring at you with an arm outstretched. You continue to watch him until his figure disappears into the night. 

You are quietly immersed in your own thoughts, the whirlwind of emotions intensifying your persistent migraine. Unaccustomed to silence, Jimin decides to give his unsolicited two cents, as per usual.

“Geez. Didn’t know you were into the whole starving artist type. If I’d known, then maybe I’d stop trying to brag about my fortune to you,” Jimin scoffs. “If loser buskers like him impress you, then maybe I should—”

“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your fucking life!” You explode, whirling to face him with a glare. Jimin has the audacity to flinch, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road. 

“What the fuck? Why the hell are you mad at me?” 

“What the hell was that back there? ‘C’mon babe.’” You mimic his voice with a sneer. “Why on earth would you do that? Now he thinks that we…”

“Why do you care what he thinks? He’s your ex, remember?” Jimin cuts you off, but you can’t even refute him. He continues, “Figured as much. And judging by how spooked you’ve looked all day, I have to assume that he was an asshole, right? Why else would you accept my offer for a ride home if you really wanted to avoid seeing him?”

You shrink under his accurate assumptions. Damn, were you really that easy to read? “I… I mean, yeah but…” You clear your throat, still feeling wronged by him. “You didn’t have to act like a weird prick in front of him!”

Without warning, the floodgates burst forth. You begin to ramble, the thoughts that have been weighing you down pouring out of you in waves. “Jungkook was my ex, yeah. But he wasn’t an asshole. On the contrary, he was really sweet. The nicest guy in my school, at least. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, that sort of person. I dated him all throughout high school and he was a great partner.”

Jimin hums skeptically. “Then why the messy break-up?”

“It wasn’t messy!” You retort defensively. 

“Could’ve fooled me!” Jimin snorts. “I also frequently act like a trembling kitten when I see my exes,” he says sarcastically. 

You ignore him. “The reason we broke it off was because he wanted to pursue his dreams to become a singer after high school and I wanted to do other things. It was a mutual break-up! Honestly, I’m glad that we did. Too many girls wanted him and all the unwanted attention was getting on my nerves. I was glad to find a reason to end it all,” you explain, hoping you didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. What you said was mostly true, though you left out the important bits to yourself. Mostly to save some of your dignity intact. (Truthfully, you just didn’t want to admit things you weren’t ready to face.)

“Then if you’re so glad, why do you look like you wanted to shit yourself? It ain’t adding up,” Jimin fires back.

“It’s just—” you stammer, trying to find a reason why you were so bent out of shape after seeing him. “I-I was caught off guard, I guess. I knew he was pursuing his dreams to sing and all, so I expected him to leave the country. I wasn’t expecting to see him outside where I work, of all places,” you mutter lamely. You have your head bowed, biting your lips from the nerves. Again, you weren’t totally lying. 

Jimin is silent for a moment, contemplating your admission. When he looks so calm like this, it’s hard to get a read on what he’s thinking. As Jimin speeds down the highway, the street lights illuminate his face in a strange way, and for once, he looks like a stranger. His steely expression makes you nervous, for some reason. 

Eventually, he asks you a question you would never have expected. “And he just let you go?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Jimin huffs, irritated. “He just up and left without a fight? If I were him, I would have…” he trails off, his jaw clenching. 

You don’t know where this Jimin came from. Under the moonlight, Jimin looks livid, but that can’t be right. Jimin, mad for you? Sure, you’ve seen his anger directed towards you, but this? Everything’s gotten so complicated, and you are just about ready to succumb to sleep and hope to wake from this nightmare.

The rest of the drive to your house is silent, save for the sounds coming from passing cars. Jimin pulls up to your apartment complex, his mysterious anger finally subsiding. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the car door handle, Jimin places a hand on your shoulder. “Listen, Y/N. I’ll talk to management tomorrow morning. I know the manager well enough that I can probably convince him to do something about that ex of yours. He’s busking on private property, so it should be easy to get rid of him,” Jimin says, tone serious. He swallows, and for a moment you think he looks a little nervous. “If that’s what you want, I guess.”

His kindness scares you. You want to tease him, ask him where Mr. Bitchy and his $2000 Chelsea boots had gone. Anything to make this air of severe sincerity to abate. This new Jimin feels suffocating. But instead, you nod your head stiffly. 

Jimin makes a pained expression for a moment, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual playful smirk. He slaps you upside the head, laughing heartily at your stunned face. 

“Get some rest, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow evening,” he chuckles, reaching over to open the door for you. You scramble out into the cold city air, taking one last look back at him through his window.

He rolls it down, leaning forward to flash a toothy grin at you. “Hey, stop with all the angst, pookie. Wouldn’t want my favorite toy to get sick from overthinking. Who else would I bother at work if not you?”

You snort, both endeared and irritated in equal measure. He’s right. Everything was going back to normal tomorrow, you’re sure of it. You flip him off with a cheeky grin before making your way to your apartment.

Everything is going to be okay. Jimin says he’ll do something about it, and for whatever reason, you feel like you can trust him on this. Surely good fortune was soon to be upon you. 

xxx

Jimin had texted you while you were still sleeping:

Spoke to Manager Jeong about your little problem. He said he’ll deal with him.

You breathe a sigh of relief, your body feeling significantly lighter. Your sleep last night had been tumultuous and restless. You feel more tired than you did when you went to bed, but all your weariness fades once you read Jimin’s text. 

Once you make it to work, you find that management has gotten rid of Jungkook somehow. Added with the fact that your landlord has promised to look into repairing your shower (no guarantees, but you want to stay optimistic), today has been significantly better compared to yesterday. You even catch yourself humming as you set up your workstation, a small smile gracing your lips.

Jimin has a later shift this evening, and you find that you are somewhat disappointed for once. Your overwhelming gratitude is surely the only reason, otherwise you would never admit to wanting to see him at any given time. 

You are in the midst of texting Jimin about all the good news when your manager passes by your desk. You are quick to pocket your phone away from his prying eyes, ready to defend that you aren’t slacking off… but his demeanor does not reveal any ire. In fact, he looks rather pleased for once.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeong. What’s up?” you ask, suspicious. You instinctively fold your hands behind your back; it is a subconscious effort on your part to keep your distance from him. Something about your manager always gives you a bad feeling when he looks a little too happy. 

He grins widely. “Everything is going splendidly, Ms. Y/N. In fact, I think today might just be our lucky day!”

Never during your time working here has his and your luck ever coincided. “Our lucky day?” you echo.

“Why, yes! I spoke with your lovely friend and coworker Jimin this morning,” he starts, and immediately your alarm bells ring. You don’t even bother correcting him about the ‘friend’ part like you normally would. He continues, “He gave me a brilliant idea about the busker who had been performing in front of the restaurant the past two days.”

You nod slowly, not quite understanding. “Yes… The busker has been quite… the spectacle,” you say carefully. Somehow, you know calling Jungkook a ‘nuisance’ would have been the wrong choice in this instance.

Manager Jeong beams. “Exactly! You must have noticed the amount of people we served yesterday despite being a Monday. Additionally, almost all of those new customers requested outdoor seating no less!”

You feel the world tilt on its axis. What is he on abou—?

“What are you talking about?” you exhale.

“Don’t you think it would be even better for business if we got that busker to perform inside the restaurant? Why, it’s a brilliant idea and I don’t know why I didn’t think of it first! Our live band has always been missing something special, and perhaps a vocal accompaniment is the exact answer to our problem! Think about it, the atmosphere would be…”

Manager Jeong continues to prattle animatedly about his plans to your unhearing ears. There must be static or cotton plugging your head because you cannot possibly understand anything he is saying. Jungkook? Inside? Performing at your restaurant? But Jimin said he had spoken to the manager about getting Jungkook away from you! None of this makes sense. 

“That makes no sense,” you verbalize, unknowingly cutting Manager Jeong from his monologue. He halts in surprise, as if now just realizing you were standing there (much less capable of interrupting or disagreeing with him). When he snaps out of it, you sense that familiarly sinister aura emerging from him in waves. You belatedly realize he must have mistaken your outburst as antagonistic.

“Well, Ms. Y/N. Whether it makes sense or not, we have hired Mr. Jeon to perform live at the bar stage for the next four weeknights. If, for some unknowable reason, I am incorrect,” he pauses to emphasize his words, “then his services will be promptly terminated. However, judging by his popularity from simply standing out in the cold and singing silly love songs, I am sure that worry is unwarranted.”

Behind you, the telltale sound of the main door swinging open catches you even more off guard. You do not even have the chance to turn to face the newcomer, only managing to register the gust of cold wind that accompanies their entry.

And so, you hear him before you see him. 

“Hello?” Jeon Jungkook greets quietly.

Even without turning, you can imagine how he looks, how he stands, how he feels, how he tastes—

Manager Jeong claps his hands gleefully. “Splendid timing! Speak of the devil…” The older man nearly skips towards Jungkook like a youthful school girl, accompanied by his uncharacteristic squeals of excitement. 

You can feel his gaze on you, almost tangibly. With nothing but your shreds of dignity left intact, you force yourself to face him. 

He’s still so tall, is all your mind can helpfully supply as you stand feet away from your high school sweetheart for the first time in two years. He’s still wearing the same bucket hat from the night before, semi-shielding him from view. Despite that, you catch a small flash of white graze his bottom lip as he chews the soft flesh nervously.

“Hi, Y/N.” He addresses you directly, completely overlooking your manager without a single glance. Despite his hat, he still has his eyes lasered on you, as if not quite believing you were there. You hate how his attention makes you shiver all the same. 

Even though he ignored your manager (which would have been a major dispute had you done the same), Jungkook still receives a friendly handshake in return. “Mr. Jeon! I’m surprised you know Ms. Y/N, though I’m sure you must have spoken with her when she was escorting guests to the outdoor seating the other day.”

You had actually gotten your co-hostess to seat all the outdoor seatings yesterday, but you weren’t going to mention that.

Manager Jeong claps him on the back, inadvertently causing Jungkook to stumble forward closer to you. He looks up at you then, eyes bugging out of their sockets like a rabbit caught in a bear trap. You stagger backwards in turn, barely concealing the anxiety on your face. Oh fucking hell.

Your manager is none the wiser, of course. “Well, this makes my job much easier! Since you’re both acquainted, I’ll let Y/N show you the ropes. The band doesn’t start their set until later in the evening, but you’re free to take a look at the stage and other parts of our facility in the meantime,” he says, chuffed. Meanwhile, Jungkook looks like he’s been shot by a freeze ray. 

Then, your manager points a sharper gaze at you. “Ms. Y/N, treat our super star well. I know you won’t disappoint me.”

Fucking superstar… You can only nod in defeat. “Y-Yes, sir…” you whisper, clenching your uniform with your fists. It is the only way to keep them from shaking like a leaf. You watch as his figure disappears behind his office door, leaving you to fend for yourself. Powerless, you train your gaze to the floor, unwilling to meet Jungkook’s eyes. 

But the nerves are taking control of your body, screaming at you to eject, eject, eject!

“Sorry, I have to go to the toilet,” you splutter quickly, almost tripping over yourself on the way to the restroom. You dimly wonder if Jungkook is going to think you’re leaving to throw up, but you can’t find any self-respect left to care. All you need is air and space to breathe—preferably away from him. 

You slam open the stall, hardly checking to see if anyone else is around before locking the door shut. You sit on the toilet, plant your face between your knees, and scream. 

Should you go home and use sickness as an excuse? But even if you did, you still had shifts every weeknight. You would have to see him eventually. You can pray all you want that Jungkook will be fired by the end of the week, but even your delusional mind can never fathom the idea that anyone would willingly want to send Jeon Jungkook away. Plus, you remember that the regular band that plays at the restaurant has been wanting to get a singer to accompany them for ages, and you know just how damn affable he can be. They are going to love him, and you hate him for that.

It is clear to you that there is no other option:

You pull out your phone to quickly open up Indeed on your browser, frantically hunting for any openings that might fit your measly qualifications. However, you have to pause in your search to deliberate. Wouldn’t it be better to move out of the country? You had been so naive to think that moving cities was enough distance between you and Jungkook—going across the ocean is the obvious answer. Should you start up your Duolingo lessons again and hope that you can somehow survive in a different continent with only a few dollars to your name? 

You shut your phone in despair. Whether or not your plans of escape are feasible or not, in the short term, you are stuck with having to suck it up and just learn to ignore your ex-boyfriend’s presence. Surely you can force out a fake smile or two, especially with how much practice you’ve gotten after working with unbearably entitled customers. 

Taking a step outside of the restroom stall, you head to the sink to splash some cold on your face. You stare at the mirror, confronted by a girl who looks two seconds away from having a Netflix Original-esque meltdown. You rake your fingers through your hair, doing your best to look like you aren’t about to rush into incoming traffic. To no one's surprise, it doesn't work.

“Okay, I got this. Just pretend like he’s just some guy, because at the end of the day, he is just some guy,” you mutter to your reflection. She looks back at you unconvinced. “He may have broken my heart into little bite size pieces, but who cares! HE’S JUST A GUY!” You repeat the phrase over and over again like a lunatic, in a desperate attempt to cognitively alter your brain chemistry.

At that moment, one of the other stalls in the restroom creaks open, and a girl you recognize who works as one of the dishwashers walks out. You both have a silent eye conversation as she quietly studies your crazed expression and crumpled work uniform. 

Eventually, she awkwardly clears her throat, pointing to the only sink in the restroom. “Uh, sorry to hear about your, uh, guy problem. Could I use the sink please?” 

You hastily back away, allowing her to take your spot. You don’t even have the energy to apologize for your spectacle, just bowing sheepishly to her before making your way back to the main hall. If she rats you out to the rest of your coworkers, then that gives you another reason to move out of the country. Maybe you should consider a name change while you’re at it.

When you exit the restroom, you half expect Jungkook to be waiting for you by the door, but find that he isn’t anywhere nearby. He isn’t by your hostess station either, and you thank your lucky stars for once. Even if your manager had asked you to show him around, you’re sure that Jungkook can find his way around just fine. Plus, the stage is at the corner of the restaurant and is sufficiently far enough that you wouldn’t have to make eye contact with him if you were careful. 

You don’t know which greater entity has been messing with your sanity these past few days, but you hope that they can show you mercy just once—a brief reprieve, if anything. 

You clasp your hands in prayer. I’ll eat more vegetables, I’ll remember to floss, I’ll call my parents from time to time… Just please let me survive tonight. 

“Remember, Y/N… He’s just some guy,” you reiterate through gritted teeth. If a passing coworker happens to overhear your demented chanting, then you pay them no mind.

You walk towards the entrance, flipping the sign to open. You feel like a video game character when you glance at the clock, which signals the start of your shift. You can imagine the red bold text hovering above your head: 8 more hours until freedom. 

This is just like playing Five Nights at Freddy’s, except you’ve only watched the movie and you suspect your life is probably worse than whatever Josh Hutcherson had to survive through. 

You take a couple heaving breaths to brace yourself for what will be the longest eight hours of your life. You’ll show Jungkook just how well-adjusted and mature you’ve become. You are a professional, and not even a boy with angelic vocals will make you crumble. After all, what’s the worst he can do? 

xxx

He could, in fact, do a lot worse than you thought. 

“I have many regrets being born at all,” you mutter bleakly, three hours into your shift. 

Jungkook had started singing only an hour ago, so you had been filled with false confidence at first when the restaurant was filled with nothing but ambient chatter and soothing jazz music. You felt more and more confident as the minutes ticked by and your anxiety slowly melted away. You even forgot that he was somewhere in the back, likely warming up or whatever it is that singers did before a performance. 

However, your brief moment of courage shatters almost immediately when Jungkook finally takes the stage. 

At first, you did your best to tune out his voice, but it’s especially hard when whoever was in charge of the sound system decided to crank his volume to an excruciating level. You wanted desperately to grab some napkins and shove them in your ears, but you suspected that your customers (and manager) would be unappreciative of that gesture. And so there you lay, forced to wallow in Jungkook’s melodious singing like a criminal strapped to an electric chair.

But how much more pleasant an electric chair would be! Why on earth was Jungkook so adamant to sing sad love songs the entire time? Why couldn’t he be like his other singing contemporaries, who loved to write songs about getting bitches and making money? At the very least, even if he wasn’t quite a platinum selling artist just yet, surely he was constantly sharing beds with anyone he pleases? Couldn’t he sing about that?!

(In the back of your mind, you wonder if it would be less painful to learn that Jungkook has slept with multiple people… Because then, it would mean that he had moved on while you stood alone on your island, stranded and yearning.)

You didn’t want to think too deeply about his lyrics. However, you're only human. So when your mind barrier failed and you caught snippets of his singing, you noticed a pattern. There was always a girl in his songs. She was omnipresent, and Jungkook was always pleading for her. Begging and aching and wanting. But most all… he was always repenting. In every song, he always whispered a pious apology. 

You feared what would happen if you turned around in those moments of weakness. You were terrified of admitting something, of letting words spill that had been trapped in your throat for the better part of two years. 

Lucky for you, salvation comes in the form of one Park Jimin. Though, can you even count him as your savior when he had also inadvertently caused your demise?

Jimin doesn’t even have a shift today, so you’re more than surprised when his bright blonde head stumbles through the restaurant doors. His expensive coat is askew and his signature designer shades are nowhere to be found. He is panic incarnate—an expression you have never seen on his face before.

“Holy fuck,” he greets, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. His profanity startles the elderly couple waiting to be seated, their glares menacingly sharp. To his credit, Jimin doesn’t even seem phased.

In lieu of an answer, you gesture vaguely behind you. You can imagine how dejected you must look. “Holy fuck indeed,” you sigh.

It takes a moment for Jimin to regain his bearings. He straightens up and pats down his coat, but his hair is still tousled by the wind. If not for the fact that he has a car, you might have thought he had run all the way here. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he starts, genuinely remorseful. “I texted Manager Jeong this morning and he said he’d get your ex to leave, but I didn’t think he’d offer the damn bastard a job!”

“Mind your language, Park. I’m still at work,” you scold. You try your best to ignore the scrutinizing gaze of the elderly couple. You lower your voice. “And don’t apologize. I know you’re an asshole, but I doubt you’d actually prey on my downfall like this. I know you’re not into public humiliation.”

Jimin brightens slightly at your joke, but he still looks like a guilty puppy who'd been caught shitting on the carpet. “Yeah, well. I happen to enjoy tormenting you and I won’t let some upstart Charlie Puth wannabe ruin your life. That’s my job.”

You smile wryly at him. “Well, that’s too bad. Jungkook’s been singing for a few hours now and I’m pretty sure Manager Jeong is going to keep him long-term. He might have broken my heart, but damn does he have vocals. I'm sure you'll have plenty competition when it comes to 'who can make Y/N's life feel like hell.'”

Jimin doesn't smile back, but instead studies your face for a moment. Then:

“Do you think if I offer to suck Manager Jeong off, he’ll fire him?”

“What the fuck?” You nearly yell out in surprise, your jaw dropping to the floor. Judging by his serious scowl, you know he's actually considering it. By now, the elderly couple waiting to be seated have left the premises.

Jimin continues, unperturbed. “I know he secretly wants me, based on how his wife seems to have a personal vendetta against me. He definitely wants a taste of my bus—.”

“Stop, I get it!” You wave your hands to make him shut up, heat rising up your cheeks. “Never say that string of words to me ever again. You have just inflicted ten years of suffering onto my poor brain.”

“Hey, I’m just offering solutions here!” Jimin pouts. 

You stare at him, unimpressed. “Save it. You tried solving my problems already, so let’s just accept the fact that there’s nothing else for me to do but to suck it up. It’s time for me to put on my big girl pants for a change.”

“I mean, I could do all the sucking instead, but you’re being a little bitch about it,” Jimin mumbles. He’s lucky you didn’t hear him this time, lest you give him something to really whine about.

“Anyway, I guess this is my life now. Nothing to do except hope that he never tries to interact with me or I can find another job,” you shrug. 

Over your shoulder, Jimin fixes Jungkook with an icy glare that is cold enough to give you the shivers. For the first time that entire night, you hazard a glance back at the stage, finding that Jungkook is already looking back at you.

You whip your head back forward, perspiration forming down your back. For fuck’s sake, this guy.

“Well, let me know if he tries anything. I’ll beat that little freak into the floor if he tries so much as breathing the same air as you.” Jimin huffs, puffing up his chest with false bravado. You can’t help but laugh at his empty threat, knowing that Jungkook could probably bench press Jimin without breaking a sweat. Jimin's muscles are only for aesthetics, after all.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t actually spoken to me actually. He can keep singing his sad little love songs, I really don’t mind,” you say, like a liar. Jimin snorts, wholly unconvinced.

“Well, if you need me, I’m heading to the bar to grab a drink so I can stare at your ex uncomfortably until he leaves. See you!” Jimin bids you farewell with a cheery grin as he skips a little too happily inside the restaurant.

Why'd you have to befriend the largest lunatic in the city? You massage your forehead with a groan, willing away your growing headache. 

The rest of the night trickles away like molasses. Jungkook continues to sing his heart out, save for an hour intermission where he presumably takes a short break. In his absence, you hear Jimin guffaw loudly, his laughter too sharp to be considered happy. You faintly hear Jungkook shy stutters in response, and you momentarily consider running in to interrupt.

Why? Did you want to save Jungkook from Jimin’s unnecessary harassment? It’s not like Jimin is doing it out nowhere, he was just trying to be… a good friend?

You pause to ponder. As much as you hate to admit it, you know why you want to help Jungkook. But Jimin on the other hand? Why did he want to help you? Questions begin flowing through your head like a whirlwind, and your nausea increases. God, when was your next therapy appointment again?

You save those questions for another day. As you look at your watch, there are only thirty minutes left until two in the morning. You tap your foot impatiently, smiling curtly at departing customers as the restaurant slowly emptied. As they left, you overhear some of your regulars giggling amongst themselves, whispering about the cute new singer and his charming demeanor. 

The last nail on your coffin has been hammered. Yeah, Jungkook isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

With the restaurant closing soon, it sounds like Jungkook is ready to end his set as well. 

Throughout the night, Jungkook rarely made a point to speak. The only time he didn’t sing was when he quietly introduced the title of his next song and the band swiftly began the first opening notes. For his last song, however, Jungkook decided to give a little more backstory for his final song. 

“Hello, everyone. Thank you so much for listening to me for the night,” Jungkook says with a soft voice, his tone awfully shy despite his powerful belting throughout the evening. The few customers left give him a warm round of applause, and you hear the familiar sound of his timid giggles spill from the restaurant speakers. 

“This will be my final song for the night. Most of the songs I sang today were covers, but this one is an original. I…” He hesitates for a moment, and something pulls you to turn despite the alarm bells ringing in your ears. You face him, and just like earlier in the evening, he is already looking back at you.

This time, you don’t look away; he does. His eyes flit to the ceiling, and he licks his lips from nerves. “I… I wrote this song a long while ago. I’ve never sang it in public before and I never thought it would ever see the light of day. Until, well…”

He stops again. This time, he gestures to the guitarist in the band, silently asking to borrow it. With a guitar in hand, he smiles a little more confidently at the small crowd of people. He begins strumming the first few notes, and your heart stops. “I hope everyone had a pleasant evening. Get home safe and have a great rest of your week. My name is Jungkook, and this last song is called…”

Before he can sing the first line of his song, you make a break for it.

You slam the restaurant doors open, and the stinging cold air immediately pierces their fangs into your skin. Your coat is still inside, but you can’t bring yourself to reenter. You take a long breath, the chill barely registering in your mind with how loudly your heart is pounding in your ears.

Hearing the opening to that song was enough to bring you back in time, three years ago:

You are in his childhood bedroom, his walls littered with concert posters and his floor a mess with unfolded laundry and guitar picks. The afternoon sun is streaming through his windows, bathing him in gold. You have an exam the next day and he has cram school to go to, but you’ve both chucked your books somewhere on his desk, left forgotten. 

He has his eyes closed, concentrated. You’re both on his small twin bed, squished together side by side and thighs touching. You have your head on his shoulder and he has his hands on his guitar. He strums a few chords experimentally and sings a melody that only the two of you know.

(Not anymore.)

“Are you writing a new song?” you ask, voice a little scratchy. Neither of you had spoken for the past few hours, just basking in the setting sun and Jungkook’s indistinct strumming. But now, his chords sound more sure, more certain of something.

“Yeah, I just thought of it,” he hums. He opens his eyes a smidge, a smitten smile on his lips. You mirror him. 

“What’s it about this time?”

His brows furrow. “I’ve been trying to write about other stuff, you know? Namjoon-hyung tells me it’s important that songs have meaning and impact.” He pauses in his strumming, looking a little conflicted. “And I get what he means. Art is all about saying something, but… I can’t help that there’s only one thing I ever want to talk about. Is that so wrong?”

You chuckle, understanding what he means. You nudge your head against his cheek, grinning from ear to ear. The fluttering in your chest has become routine to you at this point, but he somehow always knows how to increase it tenfold. “God, you’re such a sweet talker. Really, Koo. There’s no need to serenade with love songs—I’m already yours.”

He looks back at you, brimming with tender affection. “I know,” he responds. Then, he takes a pen from his bedside table, and begins writing.

During those years of dating him, you always thought that If he was a waterfall, then you were a teaspoon. You desperately tried to be enough for him, but you’re barely able to fathom the depth of his devotion. Everything about him was excessive, and you could seldom understand how he managed to contain himself. He was born to share himself, to tear bits of his soul so that the world may understand him, love him. His songs were a testament that he was trying to do that, and you always felt so lucky to be able to receive him, wholly and fully.

How cruel was it that Jungkook uses that same song to rip open the barely healed scab on your heart, leaving you bare and stinging and raw all over again.

You have no idea how long you've stood there in the cold. It must have been barely a few minutes when Jimin finds his way to you. He wordlessly shrugs his coat off and places it on your shoulders, but you make no move to acknowledge him. 

You hope your silence is enough for Jimin to infer that you are not in a conversational mood, but he’s nothing if not impatient. He forcibly pulls you to face him, his hands warm even through your clothing.

“Hey, you good? Did something happen?” He asks with barely concealed irritation, but it’s not directed at you. Still, you flinch at his scathing tone, shrinking in on yourself. In your daze, you vaguely notice his resemblance to an angry baby chick. 

“It’s nothing. Go back inside, I’ll be right there,” you mumble lamely, weakly pushing him back towards the restaurant. Jimin does not budge, instead leveling you with a hard stare. This time, you’re sure his irritation is for you.

“You idiot, you literally ran out like someone was out to get you. Of course it’s not nothing,” he grouses. 

You sigh tiredly, shaking your head at him. “We can talk later. It’s almost closing time and I just want to go home and sleep.”

Before Jimin can argue further, the door to the restaurant opens once more, but it isn’t a leaving customer. 

“What the fuck? What are you doing out here?” Jimin all but shouts at Jungkook. He holds up an accusatory finger at him and uses his other hand to nudge you behind him as if to shield you. 

Jungkook winces, instinctively stepping back. Despite being a few inches taller than Jimin, Jungkook’s timidness makes him look smaller. “I… I was just worried about her—”

“Don’t you have a song to finish in there? Talk about professional,” Jimin spits out. Jimin maneuvers you so that Jungkook can’t see you, but you manage to catch sight of how his gaze follows you unfailingly.

“I finished up my set. It’s closing time.” Jungkook responds coolly. He’s still a little quiet, but you can sense some of his natural composure rising to the surface. When he needs to be, Jungkook has been known to stand his ground—usually when it comes to matters involving you.

At this time of the night and after hours of mental torture, the last thing you need is to watch your two worst nightmares duke it out in front of your work establishment. You are beyond exhausted, and you hardly have the fortitude to withstand another minute of their voices ringing in your ears. 

Your eyes well up with tears of frustration, causing the two boys to freeze up in panic. You don’t give them the chance to fuss over you; instead, you haphazardly wipe your cheeks before roughly pushing them back towards the restaurant. 

“Get back to work, you idiots.” Your voice sounds warbled even to your own ears, but you push past your overwhelming emotions in favor of getting back inside to close up. Hell, you might even call in sick tomorrow, just so you can cry pathetically into your bowl of cereal in solitude.

“I’m not even on the clock today!” Jimin complains faintly, but you only push him harder. 

When you all reenter, you walk back to your desk and pointedly ignore the two of them until they awkwardly float away from your orbit. Despite the distance they give you, their gazes are still fixed plainly on you and they feel like knives digging into your back. 

Eventually, all the final customers of the day take their leave, and your remaining coworkers start dimming the lights and bidding their goodbyes. From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook bowing respectfully to the band, who were giving him friendly pats on the back for a job well done. Jimin walks toward you, his car keys dangling from his left pinky. 

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus home today,” you declare before he can offer a ride. Jimin opens his mouth like a goldfish, flapping his lips dumbly as he stares at you in shock. You have no idea why he’s so surprised, given how you’ve been making it obvious that you need some space.

He looks like he wants to argue again, but thinks better of it. A singular moment of restraint from Park Jimin, which is an act you once thought impossible. Maybe he does care about you more than you thought. 

He stiffly nods at you, shoving his hands and keys into his pockets. He still has a frown on his face when he tells you to text him when you get home. You flip him off with a shaky smirk in response, a feeble attempt to bring some levity back to your now tense relationship. It works a little, and Jimin brightens up significantly. How simple-minded of him.

With a flippant wave, you leave work and head towards your bus stop. At this hour of the night, the streets are mostly dim, save for some street lamps and bars that stay open longer than your restaurant. There are always some people milling about, enough that you never feel too on edge about how late it is. Still, your bus stop is often empty, leaving you to mull over your thoughts in peace.

You are in the midst of jamming your earbuds into your ear when a presence makes itself known beside you.

Is it possible to go through the five stages of grief in under a second? You suppose not, but it’s hard to tell what sort of emotions swim through you when you come face to face with Jeon Jungkook again.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you mutter under your breath. You pause the song playing on your phone to glare at him with as much venom as you can muster. 

Jungkook holds up his hands in surrender, doe eyes wide like prey. “I-I’m heading home too! I’m not following you, I swear!”

You groan internally. Figures that you and Jungkook take the same bus home. But hold on— “Don’t you have a car? I remember you were parked near the restaurant the other night,” you note, squinting at him.

Jungkook looks sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. That car was my hyung’s. He lets me borrow it sometimes, but he needed it tonight.”

“Sure…” You level him with a skeptical frown. You remember his hyung, but don’t recall him ever owning a car. You aren’t even sure that his Namjoon-hyung is allowed by the country to drive a car, much less own one. 

He could be lying, but you don’t want to give him an excuse to continue any conversation. So, you busy yourself with your phone and keep your head bowed away from him.

When the bus arrives, Jungkook makes it a point to sit a few rows behind you. Thankfully, he has a better understanding of social cues than a certain Park that you know. He leaves you alone, but your entire body still feels like a rope pulled taut. You have to convince yourself not to look behind you, your morbid curiosity scratching your insides raw.

You are in the home stretch now, and it’ll only be a few more minutes before you get to your stop and make your way to your safe haven. Hell resumes the next day and the next, but at the very least you’ll have your home to yourself. No one could take that away from you.

Again, this is where you learn that tempting fate is never a good idea.

When you exit the bus at your stop, you can hear his footsteps following you. It’s hard not to notice, especially when his large and distracting boots make such a distinct racket that makes him so Jungkook. 

You hasten your pace towards your apartment complex, your shoulders hunched and hands shoved into your coat pockets in an attempt to hinder the bile rising from your stomach. He had promised that he wasn’t following you, but that proclamation seems to be standing on feeble legs with how long he’s been on your tail now.

Your street is filled with rows of low-rise apartment buildings, so you hope that if anything happens, you can yell as loud as you can and alert some compassionate neighbor to come to your aid. (Not that you think he would ever physically harm you, but… You can’t say the same about your mental state.)

Your home is just two buildings away from where you are, but Jungkook still seems determined to follow you to the end. You all but skip the remaining feet to your apartment entrance, your breath coming out in puffs as you finally muster up the courage to face your supposed stalker and give him a piece of your mind. 

“If this is some convoluted way for you to find out where I live, then you aren’t being very subtle about it,” you say, your chin held up high despite the growing urge to vomit pathetically in front of your ex-boyfriend. You have your hand rested on the doorknob, just a moment’s notice away from bolting into your house if the need for a quick getaway arises.

To your surprise, Jungkook wasn’t following you as closely as you expected. He had stopped trailing you about two buildings down, his own hand poised on the door with a look of genuine shock.

You both stand there, staring at each other as mutual understanding dawns on the two of you. 

Everyday, the universe learns of more creative ways to be cruel.

“Oh…” Jungkook’s voice falters. He looks simultaneously frightened and amazed, as if he too finds this entire situation unbelievably harsh. He swallows thickly, looking at you and back to his door in quick succession. “Well… This is a strange coincidence,” he murmurs. 

You want to believe that this was his entire fault, that Jungkook had somehow managed to track you down to haunt you for the rest of your days. You want to believe that he’s a crazed stalker who is willing to find where you work and live so that every hour of your wretched life is filled with nothing but reminders of what-could-have-beens. You just want someone to blame instead of just the cosmos—you want someone tangible to hate so that your suffering can be given some sort of identity. You want to give your mourning and hurt a name so that you can learn how to heal.

You want to believe all of that, but it’s hard to do so when Jungkook looks so incredibly uncomfortable, as if he’d rather melt into the shadows and never be seen again. 

In all your memories, you have never seen Jungkook look so small.

You heave a big sigh, your fingers grasping the door knob so tightly that you half-expect it to be dented from the force. You linger for a moment, your mouth opening but nothing spills out. 

What is there to say? What do you say to an ex-boyfriend that you haven’t seen in two years, who is suddenly so deeply entwined in your life once more? Do you tell him goodnight? Tell him to stay away? Tell him to come home with you?

Jungkook looks equally as conflicted. His lips are pursed tight with words left unsaid. You aren’t sure whether you want to punch the confession out of his mouth or seal them up forever. It feels like eons before he finally breaks the silence with a mirthless laugh.

“I… I just wanted to say—back at the restaurant. When I sang that last song,” Jungkook begins, and his voice feels loud because of how empty the streets are. For a moment, you are reminded of a cathedral you once visited during a vacation, how sacred silence can be. The world holds its breath, waiting for him to speak.

“I meant it all. Every word. Every lyric. I never stopped…”

He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. He stares at you helplessly, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t want to listen any more, but your feet are planted to the ground. You’re frozen like a deer in headlights, forced to brace against him as he crashes into you. 

He continues, “And when we broke up back then… I never wanted that to happen. You broke it off before we could even try something—and I hated how I didn’t fight for you harder. I let you misunderstand me because I was afraid you wouldn’t want to stick around if I didn’t succeed. I convinced myself that I was holding you down, but I never gave you—us—a chance. I never stopped regretting it since.”

“Me? Break up with you?” You echo incredulously. That statement is enough to break you from your trance, the telltale signs of indignation rising up your chest. “How dare you suggest—Me? You were the one who broke up with me, asshole! You were the one who broke my heart and decided to up and leave to god knows where! Only to miraculously respawn right next to me, groveling at my feet with sad love songs as if that’s enough for me to forgive and forget? Fucking entitled bastard,” you seethe.

Somehow, Jungkook manages to shrink more, like a bunny with his tail tucked between his legs. “Yes, you’re right that I broke your heart but… When I told you I was moving away to try and become a singer, it was always with the intention of staying together. I know it would have been difficult, but I wanted you to be with me through thick and thin. But when you misunderstood and took it as a break up, I let you go because, well… I was scared that it would happen eventually. Who wants to date a broke busking fool anyway?”

He laughs, but it sounds watery. He sniffles, and you hope it's only because of the cold. “I tried looking for you, but you blocked me everywhere and no one from back home seemed to know where you went. So I just accepted that we’d never see each other again… Until a few days ago, that is.”

A misunderstanding? Is that what everything boils down to? Years of trying to build yourself back up again, relearning what it means to be happy—all the fallen domino pieces in your life trailing back to a single moment in time? All because Jungkook was scared that you didn't love him enough?

You’ve never felt angrier in your life. You fear what you might say if you continue to stand outside there, face to face with the singular person strong enough to whittle you down to the bone. Jeon Jungkook is all soft smiles and sweet songs, but how come he’s always able to knock you off your axis? Few people on this earth can stitch you up and break you down in equal measure, but somehow, Jungkook manages to do all that and more.

Then, comes the guilt. Had it been all your fault? That you hadn't returned his love in equal measure? Had you secretly given up on the hope of being on his level? Always looking down on yourself: unable to move past your insecurities. Were you terrified of being his side piece, his girlfriend, forever?

Who are you, even? And where do you stand?

(Beside him, is what you want to answer. You don't know if that's the right choice.)

You can’t bear to look at him, least of all answer him. Without another word, you shove your house key into the door before slamming it shut despite the late hour. If you awaken any neighbors, you’ll apologize later. For now, all you require is sleep and hope that this has been all a terrible nightmare.

xxx

Reality is a bitter pill to swallow.

Jeon Jungkook continues to sing at the restaurant, and after only two days of repeat stellar performances, your manager decides to promote him as the official vocalist for the band. It hurts to admit that you're not the least bit surprised; you might have a hard time looking at him, but you can never deny his talent. 

His song list has added a larger variety of genres ever since his first performance. That is to say, he isn’t always singing about lost loves and tragic couples every night. Perhaps it is due to some requests from customers or his other bandmates, but it doesn’t stop him from sprinkling one or two love songs into the mix. 

He doesn’t sing any original songs ever again. That, at least, is a small mercy. He doesn’t make any moves to speak with you either, despite the daily awkward trips back home after the end of your shifts. Whether that’s because he’s given up on you (again), or he’s waiting for you to make the first move, you don’t know. Frankly, you don’t think you have the energy (nor courage) to do anything about it.

It’s a few weeks after Jungkook’s first performance at the restaurant, and closing time is approaching. You appreciate Friday nights the most because it means you’ll have two consecutive days to relax and avoid your problems. It’s also the busiest night of the week, when white-collar workers decide to drink and eat for as long as the night allows them. Busier nights mean more distractions, and you’re willing to deal with twenty Karens over one Jungkook.

During nights like these, your manager occasionally asks you to fulfill some waitress duties when there aren’t enough hands on deck. Normally you’d hate it, but earning the extra tips is enough to keep your grumbling to a minimum To this day, your landlord has yet to do anything about your broken shower, and you’ve finally conceded to the fact that you’ll have to be the one to do something about it. 

As you inform the customers in your area that the last call for orders is approaching, you sneak a glance at the bar to see Jimin dutifully performing his job. That is to say, he’s flirting up a storm, getting women and men alike to blush from head to toe as he serves their drinks with a salacious smirk.

What a swindler, you think to yourself, snorting when he makes eye contact with you. He gives you a cheeky salute, mouthing something as he gestures to the back door.

Despite the semi-fight the two of you had all those weeks ago, Jimin was never one to argue about the same topic two days in a row. When you saw him the next day after your confrontation with Jungkook, Jimin was back to all smiles. You still catch him sending death glares towards Jungkook on most nights, but he doesn’t bring up the matter with you anymore. For that reason, you’ve gratefully settled back into your weird, banterful friendship with him. Even if there’s still a lingering tension between the two of you that you refuse to acknowledge.

You nod thankfully back at him, excited to go to his house and take a much needed shower. At this point, going to his house has become second nature to you, and it gives you an excuse to not see Jungkook at your regular bus stop every day. You have half a mind to never fix your shower for that reason, but of course there is still the problem of having to deal with Jimin every time you need to bathe. You hardly consider yourself an impatient person, but Jimin likes to toe the line far more often than necessary.

You’re down to your last two tables before you can close up shop when your manager suddenly barrels right into your path. You nearly drop your tray of dirty dishes to the floor, holding in a loud yelp as your suspiciously stern-faced manager halts you in place.

“Ms. Y/N, may I have a word with you for a moment? It’s regarding your paycheck for the month,” he barks, lips downturned. He appears disgruntled about something, and it sends a worried shiver down your spine. And here you thought Fridays are meant to be fun. He doesn’t wait for you to reply before he stalks back to his office, an unspoken command for you to follow. 

You unload your dishes in the kitchen before making your way to his office. The small, dark room is cramped with overflowing file folders and coupons from multiple take-out places. You accidentally step on a stack of papers, and upon further inspection, seem to be a pile of applications for new hires. You distinctly remember complaining to him months prior about being understaffed and him replying that no inquiries were coming in.

As you approach, your manager shuffles through your coworkers pay stubs, and you notice yours and Jungkook’s on top of the piles. 

Manager Jeong clears his throat. “Well, Y/N. It seems to be your lucky day. As you know, we split the tips based on your hours and what sort of duties you fulfill. With the new hire we have as our in-house singer, we’ve had to split it one way more to accommodate his arrival. However, he has recently requested to me that his portion be reallocated… to you, Ms. Y/N.”

Your jaw drops immediately. “I-I don’t understand, Manager Jeong,” you sputter. 

Manager Jeong snorts, bemused by your reaction. “Don’t understand? Well, I suppose you’ll have to ask Mr. Jeon if you want his reasoning. Regardless, since we normally deposit your salary straight to your bank account, would it be alright if I hand you his tips in cash for now? He only informed me about his request an hour ago, and the accountant has already clocked out for the week.”

All you can do is nod dumbly back at him. With a huff, your manager presses a white envelope into your hands before promptly ushering you out of his office. “Well, that's settled. Out you go! Have a good weekend, Ms. Y/N. Don’t forget to lock the register before you leave!” He calls out before slamming his door in your face.

It takes you a moment to reanimate back to life. You stare at the white envelope for a long while, unable to fathom the scribbled out name of Jeon Jungkook replaced with your own name. Then, you crumple it into your fist before stomping over to where Jungkook and the rest of the band are in the middle of packing it up for the night.

Jungkook looks up from his guitar case when he senses you fast approaching. For a fleeting second, a smile graces his handsome face before it’s smacked away by your crumpled envelope. 

“Keep your fucking cash, Jungkook. What the hell is your problem?” You fume, cheeks heating from agitation. Jungkook splutters for a moment, prying the envelope away from his face and looking at it in bewilderment. When he sees it clearly, recognition dawns on his face, followed by guilt.

“It’s just… my way of saying sorry, I guess.” He answers you meekly, neck flushing red in embarrassment. Behind him, the rest of the band grow silent at the scene before them, and you debate on telling them to mind their own business when they quicken their pace to leave.

“Well, keep your apology to yourself. There’s nothing to apologize for,” you correct him with a frown. To offer an apology is to offer accountability. You aren’t sure if you’re ready to hear him say that. 

“No, it’s a sorry for… using you, I suppose.”

“Using me?” You repeat, dumbfounded. “For what?”

Jungkook smiles wryly back at you. “For inspiration?” he clarifies. For being the reason I can sing? He leaves that part unsaid, but you can almost imagine him saying it. 

You feel heat rising to your cheeks again, but this time you aren’t quite sure if it’s from embarrassment, anger… or something else.

Unable to conjure up a response to his simple confession, you stomp away from him with a pounding heart and shaking hands. You continue the rest of your closing shift routine instinctually, your body moving on autopilot as Jungkook’s words continue to ring inside your head. When all is said and done, Jimin makes his way to your station with a questioning stare, but you wave him off in favor of stomping ahead of him to the parking lot.

In his car, Jimin rattles off about his latest exploits and purchases, his grating voice a comfort for once. You hum noncommittally during his stories when appropriate, but you suppose your usual indifference feels different, even to Jimin's untrained ears. 

At his house, you drift to his bathroom immediately. You already have a shirt button undone by the time you get a handle on the door when Jimin’s hand stops you in place. You can feel his warmth emanating against your back as he slowly pulls the bathroom door close. With a tired sigh, you reluctantly turn to face him and find him standing closer than you expected.

He has an arm resting above your head, effectively caging you. You feel your shoulders sag. Damn, here comes another confrontation. Why can’t everyone just leave you alone?!

“Talk to me,” he says. No, he demands.

You push him away weakly, but he hardly budges. “Nothing to talk about,” you lie. Had you no filter, you’d be word vomiting all over the place ages ago.

Jimin groans, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Enough with the emotional constipation. I’m here to listen, alright? No teasing or anything, I’m all ears and maybe a shoulder to cry on. Just don’t stain my Chanel top too bad,” he jokes.

You puff out a short breath—a sorry excuse for a laugh. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want to talk about it, and that’s that.”

“It’ll make you feel a lot better, though,” he offers.

You scoff. “What makes you think that? What if I just want to ignore all my problems forever and never grow from it? Is that so bad?”

Jimin pushes himself away from you, raising his hands in mock defeat. “You’re so fucking annoying. Can you stop running away from your problems and talk to me? Hell, talk to Jungkook for all I care! Just stop being a doormat and speak your mind for once in your damn life!”

“What are you, my therapist?” You brush past him, shower all but forgotten. You begin toeing your shoes back on, ready to head home tired and smelly. At the very least, you won’t have to deal with this stupid annoying asshole any longer. 

Jimin strides back towards you, but for once he doesn’t do anything to forcibly stop you. Jimin has always been gruff with you, not afraid to push and pull you in any which direction. It’s part of the reason why you can’t take him seriously, even though you’ve recently realized why he was always being such a prick towards you—

“Yeah, I’m not your therapist. But for better or for worse, I’m your friend and I—I fucking care about you, alright? And it sucks seeing that good-for-nothing stick his nose in your business and act like he can do anything without any repercussions.”

Is Jimin being for real right now? “With how often you look at yourself in the mirror, you’d think you’d be better at introspection,” is all you say to that. You shove your feet into your shoes, not caring that you’ve probably put them on wrong. Maybe it’s because it’s Friday and the fatigue from the week has finally settled deep in your bones, but you can’t help but leave one last scathing remark to drive the final nail in the coffin.

“You know, if you were a little nicer to me, maybe I would talk to you. Hell, maybe I’d like you back. But no, just keep being your domineering, asshole self and I’ll keep being the same fucking doormat bitch you know and love,” you spit, turning towards the door and away from his face. You’re not even curious to see how he reacts. “I don’t need protection, alright? When I tell you to stay out of my business, you stay out of it. So don’t try and pretend to be my knight in shining armor.”

There’s an ocean of silence, enough to hear a pin drop. The urge to apologize surges to the surface, but you stamp it down. He’s petty all the time, so now it’s your turn.

Okay, maybe that’s a little too mean on your part, but you’re exhausted. Perhaps it is true when they say you should never act on your anger when it’s past midnight. But can anyone blame you? You’re only a girl, and girls need to snap too. 

When he responds, his voice sounds weak. Park Jimin, weak? It's almost unthinkable. "Why don't you trust me?"

Isn't it obvious? you want to say. But some mercy remains within you. You'll pick up the pieces another time. Instead, you rasp out, “Good night, Park. I’ll see you on Monday.”

The walk of shame back to your house is long and arduous. Your phone dings thrice, likely signaling texts from Jimin, but you turn it off without checking for sure. For once, the weight on your shoulders is slightly lighter. You huff out a dry laugh, realizing belatedly that maybe Jimin is right—maybe speaking your mind has its benefits.

There’s a small park in your neighborhood that you always pass by. You don’t remember the last time you spared it a second glance, but this time you notice a lone figure swinging back and forth, arching dangerously higher than what you would consider safe. From a distance, all you can make out are the person’s comically bright boots, and you have a sinking suspicion you know who it is without seeing their face.

Cosmos, or whoever it is that controls my life, why must you braid our strings of fate so tightly? You ask, but as always, it refuses to reply.

Against your better judgment, your feet bring you closer towards him. He has his back towards you, his feet pumping him higher and higher and you half expect him to swing in a perfect arc like a gymnast on parallel bars. You have to keep your distance a bit, lest you get the wind knocked out of you by his signature stompers. 

You clear your throat, and the boy stops mid-swing and nearly catapults himself into the spongey, playground floor. Hunched over and wheezing, Jungkook directs his shocked eyes at you with a comical stare. 

You raise a hand in greeting. A peace offering, maybe. “Hello—”

“I swear I’m not stalking you!” Jungkook interrupts as he scrambles to his feet. He bows deeply in remorse, the action so endearingly him. “S-sorry, I’ll make my way home now…”

“I don’t own the park, Jungkook. I was just saying hello…” You snort, wringing your hands uncomfortably. You grind your shoes into the ground, the sound of crunching leaves breaking the still air. “A-and… to say sorry, for earlier.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook repeats, confused. When he realizes what you mean, he waves his hands frantically. “No, no! Don’t be sorry! It was my fault for being so inconsiderate. I understand how you might misconstrue my actions, and I made things more awkward. I’ll consider your feelings more in the future…”

In the future… You cough, unwilling to meet his bright and honest gaze. If you stare too long, you fear you might go blind. 

“I come here to the park often, when I feel too cramped inside my apartment,” Jungkook explains, frantic energy radiating off him in waves. He’s gesticulating too much, a clear sign that he’s trying to hide his nerves. You remember how he would do the same thing in high school, whenever he had to present his projects in front of the class. 

You hold a hand up, a weak attempt to get him to calm down. “I’m not here to interrogate you. I just wanted to…” What is it that you wanted to do?

The two of you just stand awkwardly like that, similar to a few weeks ago when you discovered you were neighbors. You’re grasping at straws in your head, both conflicted for wanting to tell him something and running away. Even if you were to talk to him, what would you say? There’s a reason you told Jimin you didn’t want to talk—frankly, it’s mostly because you have no idea what to say or feel. 

But you do know, the universe responds. 

I ask you questions all the time, and this is how you respond? 

Either that, or you’re going insane, the universe remarks.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, his fingers fumbling as he unlocks it. He takes a furtive step towards you, but thinks better of it. There’s a few feet of distance between you, but it feels like worlds apart. Close and yet so far. You recall how you’d easily pull him towards you in the past, how being together felt as natural as breathing. 

“I know you absolutely hated it the last time I played my original song at the restaurant, so I refrained from performing any ever since that night. But that didn’t stop me from writing them. I was fine with keeping them locked in a vault forever, but…” He hesitates, searching you for any signs of discomfort. When he sees the carefully blank look on your face, he continues with trepidation. 

“Can I try a song for you? You don’t have to say yes, and you’re free to tell me to fuck off and I’ll never even look at you ever again. Just…” He flails one last time, a choked sob making its escape from his throat. 

Are you hopeless for wanting to say yes? Or were you reverting back to your old self who relied on him and believed in him so heavily? If you wanted him out of your life for good, you would have quit your job at the first sight of him. Maybe you were masochistic. Or maybe were you hopeful for a new start, a chance to rekindle a relationship that you’ve secretly always wanted to repair.

You have so much life ahead of you. Many more mistakes will be made and maybe they’ll haunt you when you’re older. But would it really be such a terrible gamble to take one more chance? 

You nod, and seal your fate.

He presses play, and the soft strumming of a guitar fills the empty playground air. 

Not for the first time, you wonder how it can be so easy for Jungkook to be so… honest. He spills his heart in every song that he writes, and you know he’s never been a great liar. He can’t help it, being genuine is in his DNA. This crashing waterfall, this boy with overflowing emotions—he sings what he thinks but feels terrified because of it. You might not understand his honesty, but you know that fear. You know it all too well.

He beholds himself to you—raw and unfiltered. A little battered and bruised, but still Jungkook. Behind everything, still the boy you’ve been yearning for.

Maybe this song is what will give you enough confidence to admit everything to him, too. As you stand there, listening to his mellow voice sing confessions to no one but you and the stars, you think you grow a little more courageous that day.

Maybe you won’t be able to tell him tonight. Maybe not tomorrow, nor next week either. But as you gaze back at his hopeful eyes, you know deep in your heart that you’ll find the words you’ve been looking for.

“I’ll keep waiting for you, if you let me.” Jungkook’s voice floats gently to you, and settles in your open palms. This time, you don’t let go

xxx

Months later, Jungkook stops working at the restaurant when an offer from a major record company arrives in his mail. Apparently, a big shot from the local radio station had pitched him to an employee at that company and they were all pleasantly surprised to find a hidden gem at a random bar and restaurant.  

In your apartment, you stare outside your window and to where his home is—well, where it was. You wonder if he finished packing his things, ready to make the big move tomorrow. You stand up with a stretch, sparing a glance at your still broken shower. It would be nice to have one more shower at his place… And after that? Maybe you should start looking for a nicer apartment; somewhere far away might be nice.

Your phone rings, and you see his contact photo light up your screen. With a smile, you answer.

“Come over, if you want. I won’t make you,” Jungkook assures you. 

You laugh lightly, already halfway out the door. 

[lix1nyu]

how tartaglia reacts when you're drunk and don't recognize him

tartaglia x gn!reader

part 2 is now here

sfw, drunk reader, angst, some fluff, reader has been hurt in prev relationships

A/N: i don't usually post stuff like this hehe, idk what changed my mind to!! hope you enjoy🤭

You had told him if you didn't come home before 2, he should probably come pick you up.

"Hey, you're here!" Hu Tao beams at Tartaglia.

"Thanks for watching them," he grins and gestures to you sitting at the counter.

"Yeah, dude, of course."

Tartaglia stares at you for a little while. He still can't get over how pretty you are, the curve of your nose, the ways your eyes kiss in the corners. Your hair looks surprisingly neat for someone who's drunk. Your expression is distant, finger trailing along the edge of the glass. You seem to be drinking vodka? He thought you didn't like vodka.

Sliding an arm around your shoulders, he leans to whisper in your ear, "Hey, pretty, you ready to go?"

You leap back into the present.

Looking puzzled, you push his arm off of you, saying, "Please don't call me that."

He blinks, a ghost of a smile still on his face. "Haha... what?"

Their faces mirror each other in confusion.

"I'm not going home with you, I have a boyfriend," you say, turning back to the half filled glass.

It clicks in Tartgalia's head, and a teasing grin forms. "A boyfriend, huh? Can I fight him for you?"

"You'd lose," you reply flatly, deadpan.

Dropping himself into the seat next to you and propping up his cheek, he says, "Tell me about this boyfriend of yours."

He watches his lover's expression brighten, like you forgot the entire exchange that just happened.

"Oh, he's the sweetest," you gush immediately. "And he makes me laugh so much, and he's so lively and good with people, but he's so hardworking and stubborn and, ugh, he's so beautiful. How is it possible to be so beautiful?"

His heart is about to explode all over Hu Tao's kitchen counter. His mind can't believe it, he's the reason your face is a beautiful, dreamy, rambling mess.

And you're not done. "I don't deserve him," you say, "I wish I could do something for him, but he always says I don't have to."

Because you don't have to, my dove, Tartaglia thinks. You're doing more than enough already.

Your expression suddenly snaps. "Shit. I'm a terrible person. I need to go home."

Tartaglia snaps out of his own trance in alarm. "Why?"

"He's at home now, and I'm out here getting wasted." You rub your face and search for your bag and phone.

"Woah, hey, you're drunk," he holds you by the shoulders, "I'm taking you home."

"Just because you're literally gorgeous doesn't mean you get to touch and take home random people!" You smack his hands off of you, again. Tartaglia's not sure if he should cry or laugh.

You cover your mouth in surprise at your own words. "Holy fuck, I'm a terrible person," you whisper. "Am I allowed to call someone who isn't my boyfriend gorgeous?"

He's convinced alcohol makes your brain overthink twice as fast as it usually does.

He also thinks it's a dumb question. Have I given them the impression they can't speak their mind?

He thinks it's okay. "Of course you are," he tells you instead, frowning. "He's not a good boyfriend if you have to be allowed to do something."

"No, he's a great boyfriend!" you say instantly. "I just-" You cut yourself off with a sigh and chew on your fingernail. There's a loud thumping in his heart as he waits for you to continue.

"I never know about these things," you say finally. "I feel like he never really tells me how he truly feels. I don't know if there's something I do that actually bothers him. And I'm..." You rub your nose bridge. "I'm scared to ask."

Tartaglia is quiet for a long moment. What he has cleverly deduced from this is that his lover is scared of him. All pride he'd felt earlier from making you swoon is now replaced by a sick feeling of self hatred.

"Maybe there's just nothing you do that really bothers him," he suggests softly, trying to lighten the mood.

Your expression turns glum. Fuck, was that the wrong thing to say? He mentally kicks himself.

"That can't be right," you sigh. "When I have nightmares, he always wakes up to comfort me. I'm pretty sure that pisses him off. And he always says it's okay too, but-" you blink rapidly, like blinking away tears. Tag winces.

"But then he... he takes longer in the shower, adds more caffeine to his coffee. And- and he'll eat less of the breakfast I make him."

"Oh," he says smartly, running out of things to say. He should've paid more attention to the little things, knowing that of course you would.

You shake your head and squeeze your slightly glassy eyes shut. After mumbling to yourself, "stop oversharing to strangers" twice, you put the cork back in the vodka bottle and set your glass in Hu's sink after pouring it down the drain.

"Anyway," you turn to him when you're done, "goodnight, I guess. Thanks for listening?"

"I'll walk you home," he offers again, softly.

You hesitate. Of course you hesitate.

"You're drunk," he reminds you. "I'm sure your boyfriend won't mind as long as you get home safe."

You give in. You let him put his coat around your shoulders, but you don't put your hands through the sleeves.

Halfway home, you just stop walking.

"Love?" Tag tilts his head at you. "Darling, what's wrong?"

You blink a few times. "Tartaglia?"

He grins. "Yes, hi. You recognize me now?"

You blink again. Then a smile starts to spread, and you forget the reason for your daze. You put your arms into the sleeves of his coat. "Yes," you say sheepishly. "Hey, you."

A hand is held out for him to hold.

Their talk can wait for next morning.

sorry if tartaglia is a little ooc! thank you for reading 🫶 might post a part two where he comforts you about it?

[thepastdied]

Amped Up (p.1)

18+. MDNI. Smut.

perv!virgin!eddie munson × virgin!fem!reader

next part OUT NOW

Eddie loved to tease himself while you studied. He would watch as you sat on his bed, books littered across the mattress as you flipped between them. You were his best friend, and it was so wrong, but he loved it. It was easy to do this when you were so focused on your work. You were so oblivious.

His legs would be spread wide, his guitar on his lap to hide his aching hard dick that pressed against his skinny jeans. His mouth opened as he let out a silent breath, watching the way your tongue darted out and slowly licked the spit that collected on your bottom lip as you chewed on your pencil.

"Fuuuck" He hissed.

You looked over, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. Just uh.. dropped my pick." He held up the worn-out guitar pick before giving you a cute, dopey smile, his cheeks making his eyes scrunch up.

His smile quickly disappeared when you went back to your book, biting his lip harshly as his hips slowly grinded up into his guitar. He watched the pencil press against your plush lips and wished it was his cock. 

You raised your arms to stretch and twist around, groaning at the pain your back was in. He bit back a lewd comment as you moved to lay on your stomach, your ass on display to him. God, he fucking loved those little pink pajama shorts. They hugged your ass perfectly, usually getting swallowed up cause of how short they were. He pushed his guitar down and swallowed hard. His heart rate picked up when you started to kick your feet up in the air, the movements causing your shorts to ride up on your ass even more. 

"Oh God, keep going baby." His eyes were half hooded as he fell more into bliss. The chair he was in began to squeak lightly as he bucked up into his guitar faster. It went unheard as the music he put on (purposely) drowned out his panting. His eyes trailed from your ass to your thighs. He wished he could have those wrapped around his head as you pulled his hair and came in his mouth. God, he was close. His thigh muscles flexed as he held back a moan, his eyes moving back to your ass and noticing your panties now peeking through. Of course you would wear lace. 

"Ugh! I fucking hate this!" He jumped a little when you slammed your book down, your ass jiggling at the movement and making his hips stutter. You shook your head in annoyance before moving to another book, licking your finger so you can open to a certain page.

"Holy fucking s-shit." He began to breathe faster, though remaining quiet. His hand quickly darted to his stereo, turning up the music a little louder.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his guitar hard, pushing it against his cock. His leg kicked out from its previous bent position, muscles flexing as it shook, his body jerking. His cum exploded into his boxers, a guttural moan vibrating in his throat as he scrunched his eyes shut tightly, entire body jolting at the intensity. His hand accidently hit the strings, causing a loud shrill to echo throughout the bedroom. He choked on a breath before opening his eyes and looking over at you. You ignored him, eyes darting across the page of your book, figuring he was probably mad about fucking up a chord.

Eddie wiped a shaky hand across his forehead, moving his sweaty hair back that stuck to it. He looked down at his guitar, slightly moving it back to see a sticky wet patch of cum on his jeans, a string of wetness connecting to the surface of the guitar. 

He quickly untucked his baggy shirt to cover the spot on his jeans. 

"Hey sweetheart, wanna take a break? Want to see you play with my guitar." His tongue rubbed against the inside of his cheek to hide his smile. 

You tilted your head at him puzzled. "Uh, sure." 

He grabbed his guitar by the neck and held it up toward you. "Take it." 

You grabbed it and pulled the strap over your head. He licked his lips, feeling his dick start to get hard again knowing that his cum was now on your shirt. 

next part->

I had to rewrite this because tumblr deleted my first post of it. Fuck you, tumblr. It's probably not as good as the original, but I tried to write it out as quick as possible before I forgot. Enjoy

[bread-is-my-life]

More stainmight just for yo-

GRRRRAASSHHHHHGDHDGH 💥💥💥💥💥

Don’t speak about All Might that way

[screaminglygay]

KINKTOBER day 10

pairing: darkish!marvel ladies x fem!reader, wanda x reader, natasha x reader, kate x reader, yelena x reader, carol x reader, maria x reader

sumarry: you were kiddnapped, but a group of the mightiest herous will save your life and you can´t be more thankful

warnings: kidnapping, guns mentioned, little dark themes, kissing, touching, dirty talk, smut!!!, eating out, nickname "sir", catching somone having sex, voyeurism kinda, slight angst, wanda controlling your mind, and also reading your mind, group sex mentioned, ladies talking about planning on using you, knife play a little, little shitty writting, it takes forever to get into something, oopsies, if anything else - let me know!

word count: 7k

an: our last day! little crazy how time flies, we wont get into it or ill cry, but truly thank you for all the likes, reblogs, shares and comments! im giggling like a little girl, since few of my favs here commented or likes something soooo thank u!!!! sm!

an2: it was fun and chaotic at the same time! i love you all, stay safe and hopefully i wont dip away.:P

(italics = your thoughts)

!MDNI!

Enjoy this last spooky day and be safe!

You couldn´t see anything at all, the only sense you could count on right now is your hearing, which is not much of a helper. All you could hear is the engine running and some soft music playing in the front. 

You try to move, but your hands are tied together and so are your legs, trying to remeber what happened made your head hurt, so you quickly gave up on that.

After what felt like hours the car finally stopped. You open your eyes, but it is still pitch black, even when you hear someone open the doors, there is nothing in your sight. Then it hit you, you´re maybe in a box, that´s why it´s so hot and you can barely breathe here.

Trying to feel where you are is a good start and you were right, you are in a box. 

Someone opens the back of the car, and you feel that you´re finally moving, they put you down, which wasn´t the gentlest way, but since you´re tied up, these people probably don´t care about your well-being. 

"Open it," you hear an old man says. 

"Money first," this is someone else, someone who is standing right next to you, you´re still seeing pitch black and that is the most terrifying out of everything right now. Even if your try to run away, you don´t know where to, there could be fifty other guys standing there, so you´re in really shitty situation.

"No. I need to see if she´s alive and if it´s truly her." It´s the first voice again. 

"She is, now give me the money." 

What the hell is going on? They want my organs? But they wouldn´t want me alive? Or would they? Maybe they need the organs fresh, shit. My organs? 

Your overthinking is making your heart beat faster, than if you would run a marathon now. 

But is it really overthinking if this is the most possible outcome of this... deal? 

"I want to see her. I won´t give you shit, if I´ll found her dead inside the box." The man is clearly mad now. 

You can hear someone else coming, it sounds like a motorcycle. "Oh so you brought backup?" 

"Me? Stop fucking playing around." You can hear that both of them are unease, their voices are filled with anger and it´s just a question of time, when they will explode like a bomb. You´re hoping you won´t be the center of catastrophe. 

The motorcycle stops and you can hear someone re-load a gun. 

A gun? Holy shit. 

"Oh come on boys? What do you think you´re doing here, hm?" You can hear a woman speaking, her voice has a hint of smokiness and a certain level of strength, making it both captivating and commanding. It's a voice that demands attention and conveys a sense of experience and resilience. You could bet your life that you already heard this voice somewhere. 

You don´t really know what´s goining on, but you feel like they´re just pointing guns at eachother, at least that´s what you´ve imagined.

The lady chuckles. "You are all surronded, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide," it was a quiet for a little bit, after she starts to speak again, "I wouldn´t done that if I was you, see the red dots? Yeah I have backup. And yours? Already arested," she adds. 

Arested? Oh she´s from the police! Police! Yes! 

You can hear how someone is walking closer to you, but from a totally different way then you heard the people talk before. But that is the last think you think of, before you completly pass out. 

... 

Beep, beep, beep. 

Is all you can hear, before you can even open your eyes. You take a few deep breaths and with that, you slowly open them. The light isn´t as sharp as you thought it´s gonna be, so you blink a few times and your already adjusted to being awake.

Looking around give you an answer where you are, the hospital. All of your clothes are on the chair, packed in a plastic bag. So it must have ended good, the lady arested the bad guys and now you´re in the hospital, which isn´t your favorite place, but hey, you could be in a coffin now, so you see it as a win. 

You don´t even feel in pain, maybe you´re head hurt a little bit, but you´re used to it. You slowly trace your hand all over your body, but you think you´re all good. 

A person coming into your room pulls you out of your thoughts, as you look up at them, you notice is The Natasha Romanoff. One of The Avengers. One of the coolest people in the whole world! 

Your eyes widen at her standing next to you with a little smile on her face. "You´re finally awake, how are you feeling?" her voice was so soothing, you feel like she could bring you from dead if that was the case. 

As you observe Natasha´s outfit, you can't help but be drawn to her effortlessly cool and edgy style. She's wearing sleek, form-fitting black pants that hug her curves perfectly, adding a touch of boldness to her overall look. The pants highlight her long, lean legs, accentuating her confidence. Her choice of a white tank top underneath the black leather jacket is simple, it shows you just enough of her abs to let you know, that she could kill with them. 

"I- uh good. Great. Amazing." She chuckles at your answer. 

"So I assume the pills are working." She nods her head and sits on your bed. 

"Meds?" A noticable confusion is written on your face and Natasha speaks right away, to ease your nerves. 

"How much do you remeber, (Y/N)?" Natasha puts her hand on your forehead to check if you have a fever. 

"Um... I remeber being in a box and being scared," Natasha hums, "I also remeber having my hands and legs tied and I- uh remeber and then I just..." you shrug. 

"Okay." She nods again. "You don´t have to worry now, we took care of them and you´re safe." Natasha gives you a smile, that did make you feel way better. You knew she was a badass and pretty too, but in person? 

She´s stunning, how can someone be this perfect? Like it is not fair. 

"Althrough..." she sighs. 

"What? Althrough what?" 

"We´re not sure if they worked alone and knowing your status, we can´t risk you getting hurt again." She adds. 

"My status? I´m sorry, I have zero idea what you´re talking about." If you were confused before, then you don´t know what you are now. 

"Oh, detka. They did numbers on you." You could see the concern in her face. 

Numbers? On me? What?

"You were missing for few months and when me and the rest of the team found you.. you were unconsious. That was 2 weeks ago, we weren´t sure if you´ll wake up. But you did and that´s amazing news, but we need to make sure, that you are safe." Natasha takes your hand in hers. 

After that Natasha left you alone and you were trying to piece the things together, but everytime you tried, you got horrible headache. 

What status? Who- what? 

... 

During the first week, it was only Natasha who came to visit you. Each time you inquired about leaving the hospital room, she staunchly insisted that you should stay and rest. Even though you expressed your boredom and eagerness to step out of the room multiple times, assuring her that you felt better, she stood unwaveringly by her belief that you needed the rest after everything you had been through. 

She visited you everyday and you realized how sweet The Black Widow actually is and how much comfort she brings you in those confusing times. But you couldn´t help, but notice what her slight touches make you feel. Touching your forehead to make sure, you don´t have a fever. Touching your hand to get your attention or just putting your fallen hair behind your ear. 

She brushes your hair every morning, reads to you, she even brought you a coloring book, which always brought you some sense of comfrot. And if Natasha wouldn´t be the one who brought it out, you would completly forget that something as kidnapping has happened to you. 

... 

This morning Natasha is not alone, she softly knocks three times as she did each morning and then slowly walks in with another person behind her. 

"(Y/N), this is-" You cut Natasha off. 

"Wanda Maximoff!" You basically yell. "S-sorry, I just... I know who you are." You sligthly blush at the two women in front of you. 

Wanda chuckles. "That´s me. Pleasure to meet you, (Y/N)." She comes closer and shakes your hand, her hand felt incredibly soft, like a gentle caress of silk against the skin, inviting warmth and comfort. 

"You don´t know what happened to you, but you remeber all of our names?" Natasha laughs as she teases. 

"I mean..." you shrug. "You are The Avnegrs! So of course I know who you are." You look away from Natasha´s gaze. 

"Sorry, that was a stupid joke." Natasha put few fallen pieces behind your ear and smiles at you. 

"No, no. It´s fine, you had a great point there." You smile back at her.  The readhead nods. "I brought Wanda, becuase she will take care of you now, for few days, before the doctors will release you." Nat smiles. 

"Oh really? When I´m going home?" You were so glad you´ll be home soon. 

Wanda just send a quick eyebrow raise to Nat. 

"What?" You look between the two women in the room. 

"Detka, you will be released from the hospital wing, but we still can´t promise there won´t be anyone waiting for you outside, so we decided that you will spend some time here, in the compound." 

"Oh." Natasha´s words caught you off guard as you really don´t know what to feel now. You couldn't help but blush and feel a bit shy as you heard Natasha call you by that nickname, but at the same time her words made you a little sad, you still have to kinda locked up.. 

Wanda notices right away, without having to read your thoughts, that you weren´t really sure about this scenario. "But I promise I´m way more fun, than boring Tasha. We can read, play games and after you´ll be on your legs we can bake, cook, I can teach you how to play guitar and many more exiting things!" You smile, that does sound good, but what about all of your clothes and... other stuff you had to have, before that incident. 

"We can go shopping too!" Natasha sends Wanda a quick glare as a warning. 

"Well... better to be bored than dead, right?" You chuckle, but none of them even smiled at your joke, which was incredibly embarrassing. 

"Don´t joke about that, detka." It was the first time you saw Natasha actually mad. 

... 

You are finally off the hospital wing, Doctor Cho told you that you need to rest and if there is anything wrong, you can call her asap. At the end she is working for the Avengers and getting calls in the middle of the night isn´t something unusual. 

Being a week with Wanda was so fun, she told you all the stories from her life, you watched many sitcoms together and her cooking skills are amazing! Anything she cooked for you, you crave for some more. You´re really positive about her putting some drug in the deserts, because everything was just so good and addicting, it´s not even possible. 

You two also spent hours on online websites shopping, for your new clothes, boots and everything you needed. Wanda payed for everything of course. Even though she told you, "Don´t worry about it," you still feel bad for spending so much of her money. 

You´re currently waiting for Wanda, to walk with you to the main room, for you to meet the rest of the team. You were very nervous, but if Nat and Wanda were so nice to you and made sure you were safe all the time, you believe that the rest of the team is the same. 

"There she is!" Wanda comes to you, hugging you closly. Like any other day, she was warm and you feel even better. 

"Here I am. But I can take it-" You say as Wanda grabs the one plastic bag with your stuff. 

"None of that, malysh. You need to rest." 

"This weights basically zero zero nothing, I could-" You met Wanda´s eyes, "thank you for taking my bag." You smile. 

"That´s what I´ve thought, malyshka." These nicknames will kill you, sooner or later.  The two of you went to the living room, which was a two floors above you. The ride in the elevator was quiet and comfrotable. 

Bing. 

Wanda immedietly links your hands with yours, which you don´t mind it at all, it´s actually calming your nerves and she knows it very well. There is no need to read your mind, your body is speaking for you this time, with your relaxed posture and the little adorable smile on your face. 

"They are nice, but little... hectic and full of energy. If anything, let me know and we can go to the bedroom." Wanda smiles. 

"Thank you, WanWan," you smile back, if her and Nat can give you nicknames, you will think of something too. "I think I can manage, um... will Nat be there?"

Wanda smiles at her new nickname and then shakes her head, "Natasha is coming later tonight, you know, Avengers stuff." You simpy nod. 

You could hear the other teammates right away, but you hear only women´s voices. You were honestly glad. Not like you don´t like the male Avengers, but... they are still males, so you already felt more comfortable knowing there are only bunch of ladies. 

Wanda opens the door for you and walks right behind you. "Ladies, I´d like you to meet someone, someone very special, so please don´t attack her with questions or any other... things." She giggles and you look around and you feel like in a dream. 

Carol Danvers, Kate Bishop, Yelena Belova, and Maria Hill are all seated on a comfortable, oversized sofa, while Wanda still stands beside you. 

"Hai," you whisper as you awkwardly put your hand up in some sort of a wave. 

All you could hear was all sorts of greetings, "Hi! Hello! Oh finally, hey!..." The sudden outpour of warmth takes you by surprise, and you can't help but blush and offer a shy smile in response to their overwhelming hospitality. 

"Easy, ladies!" Wanda quickly says. 

"Move, Maximoff." The Captain Marvel herself says as she stands up. 

"No. All of you are like a bunch of hawks and (Y/N) is tiny, not a chance I will leave her all alone in this." Wanda grips your hand tighter. 

You blush as you look at Carol. 

"Im Carol, nice to meet you, (Y/N)." She smirks at you. 

"I- I know... and you are Maria, Kate, Yelena," you smile as you point at each of them. 

Wanda giggles. "She is our big fan," she explains. 

"Ohh, is she?" Maria finally speak, "do you kow the rest of the ladies?" 

"The rest?" You look at her, not knowing, who is the rest. "You´re living here with everyone? Like everyone? Where are the guys?" you obviously have many question. 

"Most of us do, but sometimes there is a mission of world so-" Carol is cut off by Maria. 

"Don´t start with this bulshit, Danvers. Like you´re something special, just because you can travel to space..." The brown haired girl rolls her eyes. 

"I didn´t say I´m special, you did." Carol winks at her.  Wanda leans closer to you and whisper right into your ear. "This is a daily basis on here, you´ll get used to it," she giggles and so did you. 

"To answer your quiestion fully," Kate clears her throat, "all the ladies live here, all of us got room and it´s just like a never ending sleepover." Kate chuckles, she is probably the same age as you, or little older, which makes you feel better around everyone. 

"And no. There are no guys. Is that a bad thing?" Yelena says without zero emotion in her voice. 

"No! No, no, no! I mean I bet they are great, but I´m into girls. I mean... as a fact, I think you guys," you point at them, "just do it better. Way badass, smarter, faster, everything is just waaay better, you know?" you tried to save youself, but it didn´t work at all. Even Yelena has a slight smirk on her face. 

"You were right, Maximoff. She is cute." Yelena nods towards you and Wanda. 

"So you´re into ladies?" Kate smiles. 

"No, yes. I mean yes, but I didn´t mean it like that in the previous context," you answer her. 

"What was the context then?" Now it was Wanda speaking right into your ear. 

You are quiet for a second and then just shrug, "I guess i didn´t want to talk shit about the male Avengers." you chuckle. 

"Don´t worry, we won´t tell them." Kate laughs. 

"Well... if you know a lots of things about us, isn´t it fair for us to know little something about you too?" Carol sits on a couch next to Maria. 

"Go sit, malysh, I´ll bring you something to drink." Wanda sligtly pushes you towards the couch, when her hand leave your lower back, you already miss her touch. 

You sit between Kate and Carol, while Maria stares at you with a slight smirk. So you quickly look at the youngest Avenger, and you can already tell, that she´s really exited to talk to you and get to know you better. 

You sit nervously between Carol and Kate, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the attention. Carol leans back confidently, a smirk on her face. "So, what's your thing, hobbies, what´s your favorite food?" 

"Um, well, I like uh, reading. And I enjoy cooking as well." 

Kate is like a exited pupppy. "That's cool! Any favorite books? Oh, and, do you have a go-to pizza topping?" 

Wanda comes back with the water and place it on the table, giving Kate a stern look, "easy Bishop," then she sits on the chair right in front of you. 

"I love reading fantasy novels. And, for pizza, I'm a sucker for pepperoni." 

Maria and Yelena, watching you, listen intently, their interest evident in their expressions. 

Carol smiles, "That's awesome. We should have a cooking night together sometime. What do you say?" 

You and Wanda make eye contact "Well... I already planned that with Wanda, so..." 

"Oh really, Maximoff? We´re already calling dibs? That is not fair." Carol rolls her eyes. 

"Or all of us can cook together?" You smile at Carol. 

"Carol in the kitchen is the worst way of dying, so it´s a no for me." Yelena mumbles and leaves the room, Maria following closely behind. "Agreed."

"I can teach you! The simple things are not that hard, right Wanda?" 

The girl infront of you just sighs and nods, "Sadly it´s not." 

"Oh come on, don´t be so harsh on her, I bet it´s not that terrible... right?" You feel more and more comfortable with all the ladies around you. 

... 

"It´s not that terrible, right?" Wanda mocks you as you see flour flying, ingredients get mixed up, and the result is far from what the recipe intended. 

Wanda and Kate exchange amused glances, but they both maintain their composure, trying not to laugh. You, though, can't help but chuckle, as you didn't expect this level of chaos in the kitchen. 

Carol, with a sheepish grin, looks at her culinary creation. "I promise, I'm better at saving the world than making food." 

"You better be, Danvers." Wanda smirks as she smacks her dirty hand on Carol´s ass, leaving a white mark on her black sweatpants. 

"Oh you´re so in, Maximoff!" Carol turns around and runs for her, to get her revange. 

You and Kate burst into laughter, all in good spirits. Despite the kitchen disaster, the shared experience brings the group closer together. 

You jump on the messy kitchen counter, smiling from ear to ear. "That was... fun." 

Kate nods and turns to look at you, "yup." She moves closer to you and touch your nose with her finger from... butter? You guess. "But at least now you see why is Wanda doing all the cooking. Sometimes Nat, but mostly our witchy." Kate is being very close to you know, her hands resting on your thighs. 

"Fair point." You look down and blush, "maybe we should start cleaning?" 

Kate shakes her head, "Wanda does a little poof and everything is clean, don´t worry about that." 

"If Wanda survives." You point out. 

"True." Kate chuckles. 

"You have very blue eyes." You don´t know where this comment came from. 

"I do, yeah. And you have very y/e/c eyes, (Y/N)." Kate is now whispering. 

Nodding your head seem like the only good idea, since you don´t trust your voice at the moment. 

"Would you like me to show you around and maybe later show you my room?" Kate asks, while staring at you. 

"Oh are you flirting, Kate Bishop?" You roll your eyes at her. 

She tilts her head, "what? You have such a dirty mind, miss (Y/N). I am not flirting with you, you would notice if I would." She squeezes your thighs and step away from you, "you going or what?" She smirks at you. 

And with the most dramatic groan you jump off the counter and follow her through the compound. 

... 

After Kate showed you around, you were positive that you need a map, because there is no way you would remeber all the catacombs and shortcuts. No way. 

And final stop, Kate´s floor. Warm, soft light streams into the room from a string of fairy lights above the windows, creating a cosy atmosphere. In one corner, a leather chair and a sleek, modern desk scattered with papers from her most recent missions indicate her dedication as a superhero. A collection of classic bass guitars in another corner, all neatly organized. Her two worlds—the life of an skilled archer and the spirit of adventure of a young hero—combine in balance in the room. 

"Oh my god- it´s so cozy in here!" You smile as you look around, seeing all the bows and special arrows on the wall. "Wow," you mumble as your hand wants to touch her black bow with silver ornaments on it, "may I?" 

"Go ahead, I don´t use these." She smiles. 

Your finger traces those shapes up and down, but your attention switches into something else, many pictures on the wall made you giggle out loud, "No way! You have Halloween nights here?!" You look at a few pictures on the wall, but one catches your eye right away.  

As you gaze at the Halloween picture, you can't help but smile at the fun and creativity captured in the snapshot. In the center, Kate Bishop stands proudly, dressed as a demon, her costume is complete with horns, pitchfork, and an impish grin that perfectly matches her cocky spirit. 

To her left, Maria Hill is a regal Queen of Hearts, her costume rich in detail, from the heart-adorned scepter to the ornate, card-themed headdress, giving her an air of authority with a playful twist. That she has even without this costume. 

Beside Maria, Natasha Romanoff stands as the Queen of Spades, her costume exuding an air of confidence. Her attire is a perfect blend of elegance and danger, with a spade symbol adorning her crown. And of course, her one and only iconic smirk. 

Wanda Maximoff, on the other hand, adds a touch of the Wild West to the group as she confidently portrays a cowboy. Her fringe-trimmed jacket, wide-brimmed hat, and toy six-shooter holster create a vibrant, yee-haw Western charm. 

Carol Danvers, in contrast, takes on a divine role, embodying a goddess with her shimmering costume and ethereal accessories. Around her waist, a gilded belt cinches the gown, emphasizing her muscle figure. It is adorned with intricate patterns and symbols that hint at ancient mysticism. Her accessories are no less impressive – a tiara with sparkling gemstones graces her brow, and her wrist cuffs shimmer with a radiant energy. 

Finally, Yelena Belova channels her inner child (kinda) as she steps into the shoes of Lara Croft. Her outfit mimics the iconic video game character's attire, complete with dual holstered pistols, a utility belt. 

"You thought we´re boring or what?" Kate walks up behind you.

"A little bit." You admit, "but this looks so fun! I´m quite upset I´ve missed that." 

"Don´t worry, you´ll get an opportunity. But I´ll bite, what would you dress up as?" Kate voice sending shivers down your spine. 

"Hm..." you turn around, "I take Halloween very seriously, so..." you try to think. "Well since Wanda was a cowboy, I would go as a reversed cowboy. You know, put a little UNO reverse card on my head. It´s funny and also good effort." You giggle. 

"Oh, sweet sweet (Y/N), you´re wilder than I thought," Kate chuckles, "I like that idea, now I´m quite upset too, you would be such a fun to our little party." She winks. 

You´re stomach feels like it´s filled with butterflies, that are trying to get into your whole body. 

"You feel my flirting, huh?" Kate smirks again. 

"Oh shush, I don´t want to boost your ego." You want to turn around, but Kate grabs you by your waist. 

"You don´t need to, pretty girl." 

"Kate..." You´re glancing at her lips, then back into her blue eyes and then back on her lips. 

"Hm?" Kate knows and you know that she knows and that makes you even more frustrated. 

"I- I don´t know what to s-" you barely whisper. 

"Then don´t say anything, I´ve got you. It´s all good, you´re safe with me here, okay?" Kate whispers and with you nodding your head, Kate leans in and your lips connect. Her lips are incredibly soft. Second ego, you were shy around the archer, but now, you want more, you crave more. She´s holding your hips, her strong grip making you feel secured and that´s all it matters now. 

As you found yourself captivated by the enchanting presence of the Bishop girl, it was a moment of shared intimacy, and none among you were present enough to recognize the subtle observe of the Witch and Captain. The door had been unintentionally left ajar, providing an unanticipated point for the two observers. From their concealed perch, they had a front-row seat to the scene. This unintentional voyeurism presented a silent spectacle that would be etched in the memory of all involved, forever preserving that delicate moment. 

"Really? Bishop is the first one?" Carol whispers, and Wanda gazes at her with a mix of understanding and frustration. She senses the storm in Carol, and it resonates with her because she feels the same emotions. Deep inside, Wanda hoped she would be the first to share that intimate moment with you. She had been so close, with Natasha temporarily away, but fate had other plans, and Kate Bishop claimed the coveted position first.

"Look, Carol, she´s really into it." Wanda´s jealous thought disappears, as she sees you pulling Kate closer and slightly biting her lip. 

"How many weeks did Natasha said to wait? 8-9? And we will discuss it? I knew it was bulshit." Carol chuckles. 

Wanda smirks and takes a picture of you and Kate making out, sending it straight to Natasha, with a message on it 'What if our new plaything is not waiting?' 

After literally 5 seconds, Wanda´s phone lit up with a new message from Natasha, 'omw.' 

... 

After your pretty heavy make out session with Kate, everything was different around the compound. Kate was by your side almost every minute and the other girls were as well. Everyone but Natasha. You didn't know if you did something wrong or if she had just a lot of avenger's work, but you wanted her attention. 

“I wouldn't go there, right now.” Maria says as she somehow appears right behind you. 

You were just about to knock on Natasha´s door to her office. Due to Maria, you pull your hand away, “why?” 

“She´s just not in the right mood now.” The agent explains. 

“Well, me neither, so-” you turn around and knock three times. 

“You´re really stubborn, huh?” Maria chuckles and turns around, walking away. 

“I already told you that I don´t have the time for your-” you hear behind the door, until the door opened, “oh, it´s you.” Natasha´s voice went from raspy angry spy to nice Natty, who used to brush your hair every morning, when you have been in the hospital wing. 

“It´s me.” You smile a little and without another word you step inside her office. 

Natasha watches you; she tilts her head waiting for your next move. 

“I kinda invited myself, sorry. But I have a question.” You give her office a quick glance, nothing original, just a big modern office, with lots of paperwork everywhere.  

The view is special though, you can take in the lush expanse of the garden, every detail from the blooming flowers to the trees. And beyond the garden's beauty, the panorama stretches out to reveal the entire cityscape. Skyscrapers rise majestically, their windows reflecting the sunlight, while the urban landscape sprawls in all directions.    “I´m listening.” The redhead closes the door. 

“Did I do something wrong? Or... like why don’t we talk anymore? You barely look at me when you come into the room, I just- did I do something wrong? I know you have a lot of work because the people who tried to... you know, but uh- like what's going on, Natty?” The nickname slips out and you don’t even notice, but Natasha did, she always notices those small details. 

You can hear her sigh, that´s never a good sign. 

Shit. 

“Detka, sit.” She nods towards the chair in her office, and you quickly did so. “It´s not like I don’t want to talk to you, I do. But I just thought that you´re already taken and I do not mess into someone else's business.” That was a lie, another one, that you can´t catch on. 

“What do you mean?” You quickly mumble, feeling like a kid who did something bad, since Natasha is standing above you now. 

“You and Kate.”  

“We- we uh are not dating, if that’s what you're asking.” You blush. 

“I'm not asking, (Y/N). But I would appreciate if next time you would be honest with me.” Natasha turns around. 

“But I am! We are not dating, we- are just friends.”  

“Friends?” Natasha turns back to face you, looking down at her phone scrolling, trying to find a picture that Wanda send to her. “Is this what friends do?”  

Shit, where did she get the picture?! 

“I-” you can't find any words that would help. You feel horrible, even though you didn’t do anything wrong, or did you? 

“I need to work now, to keep you safe, remember? So... if that´s all, see you at dinner.” Natasha looks sad, incredibly sad in fact. She opens the door for you and without anything else you leave. 

After few minutes of standing behind Natasha´s door, you decided that you need to blow off some steam and the Avengers compound has everything, so some boxing and sauna after don´t sound like a bad idea at all. Even though you had a boxing class like once in your life, you´ll manage, at least that´s what you hope. 

… 

It was not actually that bad, you feel exhausted, but also little better, hoping that sauna will do the rest of the magic.  

What you didn’t know is that you're not the only one craving to ease your nerves there. 

As you open the door you see quite a pleasing sign in front of you, Carol Danvers eating out Wanda right in the sauna, where you wanted to rest. You are like a deer caught in the lights, before you can say anything, the witch notices you and smirk. 

“We have an audience, Captain,” she whispers between her moans. 

Carol turns her head, and her eyes meet yours, “wanna join?” the blonde one chuckles as Wanda slaps her hand playfully. 

You don´t answer, you´re too occupied staring at Carol´s well-defined arms, you can see her veins, which switch something inside you. 

“Earth to (Y/N),” Wanda chuckles, “would you like to finish me, malyska?” 

“N-no, sorry! Shit! I didn´t know that- you uh- it will be occupied!” and with that you run away. 

“She was staring at you.” 

“She was basically drooling.”  

“Oh please! Don't let it get to your head! 

“Do you want to cum or not?” 

“Yes, captain.” 

“Then shut your pretty mouth.” Carol smirks as she dives back into the witch´s sensitive spot. 

… 

“I didn’t know Carol and Wanda are dating,” you sip from your newly opened water bottle. 

“Um... they are not.” Kate looks at you. 

“I´m pretty sure they are,” small giggle is escaping your mouth. 

“How so?” The taller girl tilts her head, “I´ll bite.” 

“I found them in the sauna together!” You look at Kate, “and they were... you know...” 

“Naked? Well that´s usually the scenario in the sauna, (Y/N).” She laughs. 

“I mean yeah they were naked, but they were... being close, intimate!” 

Kate is obviously not catching what you're trying to say. 

“They were fucking, Bishop.” Yelena says as she enters the kitchen. “Carol has pretty high sex drive since she´s ‘off planet’ most of the time.”  

“Oooh!” Kate says as she understands you now, but she does not look shocked. 

“So, they are like friends with benefits kind of a thing?”  

“If you want to label it, then I guess.” Yelena shrugs and you blush, imagining what you have seen earlier. 

Carol and Wanda then enter the kitchen as well, you don´t dare to look into their eyes, but you can feel that they are staring at you. You can bet anything in the world that they are also smirking. “What´s for dinner? I'm kinda hungry.” Captain Carol says. 

“You´ve just ate, Danvers!” Kate says it in a teasing way, which makes Wanda giggle and Yelena smirk. 

“But I would still eat some more, what do you say Bishop, you up for it?” the blonde one tilts her head. But even the chuckle she lets out sounds like she means it. 

You are too stunned to speak or even move a little. You see Natasha and Maria coming to the kitchen as well, hoping one of them will save you from blushing and slowly melting away. The trained spy notices your shy behavior right away. “What did you do to our little one?”  

It´s like she pushes the small ‘argument’ you had away when she sees you struggling.  

“Nothing!” Wanda says. 

“Yet.” Carol ads. 

“She just caught Danvers and Maximoff fucking in the sauna.” Yelena explains. 

You instantly want to leave the room, not that you would be uncomfortable, but you can feel yourself getting too excited, just being with these women in one room is too much to handle, talking about sex? Seeing them have sex? You´re questioning how are you still alive. 

“Detka...” Natasha starts, all eyes are on you right now. 

“Hm?” Is all you can menage to let out, hoping it would satisfy all of them, but you´re wrong, shockingly, right? The Black Widow clears her throat, and your body automatically makes you look up at her. “I didn´t meant to, I just... wanted to use the sauna and Carol with Wanda were just there um-”  

“If I clearly remember Wanda and I were both inviting you, so I don’t see the issue here.” Carol smirks at Wanda. 

You bite the inside of your cheeks, hoping it will calm you down. 

“There was a moment that I thought you would join us, malysh. And I think that you do too, am I right?” The witch knows exactly what your thoughts were about, she´s pushing you to just admit it. 

“Um- no! No, not at all. No. I was- definitely not.” you shake your head more than you should, but you can´t help it. Trying to make it more believable, but you're failing, miserably. “Not that I think you don´t look great, you do! Your bodies were- are phenomenal! But uh-” 

You are cut off by Wanda slapping Carols hand, “I told you she was staring.” 

“And I told you, she was drooling,” Carol sends you a wink and you quickly look away from her. 

“Okay, ladies. Give her a second and you,” Natasha locks eyes with you, “how about we move to couch, you will sit down and take a few deep breaths, alright detka?” The redhead smiles at you as her soft hand touches you, leading you to the living room. You can just nod, but you're happy, because Natasha doesn’t look mad or upset anymore, actually there is this look in her eyes, you can´t quite point a finger what it means, but her eyes kind of shifted somehow. 

After a few minutes of Natasha saying sweet nothings, you calm down a bit, she whispers, “It´s okay to look, you know. No need to feel shy about it. Honestly, we all do appreciate a good compliment, especially from a pretty girl like you, (Y/N).” And there it is again; your cheeks are flushed, and your heart is beating fast again. 

“How about we all help? To make you feel better, that is what you want right?” Wanda comes in, her hands slowly massaging your stiff shoulders.  

“I- I don���t want to bother you, or like-” you stutter out, your mind being a little fuzzy, you just feel tingles all around you, in you, everywhere. 

“Shhh, we promised we will help you out, so just let us.” Wanda whispers in your ear. 

“Or not and we will find our way.” Maria finally speaks. “Besides, it would not be fair, Kate already had her time with you, and we all are good friends, we share things. That´s just how it works here.”  

You look at Kate, who's now standing in front of you, looking down at you with a smile on her face, that is telling you, that she does not have any regrets of throwing you into the cage full of hungry tigers. Infact, she looks like a kid on a Christmas Eve. Suddenly, your mind is craving any touch. 

What's going on? 

‘You want this, shhh, you´re safe. Everything is okay. Just enjoy this.’ 

I want this. So much. 

‘That is right, malyshka.’ 

Wanda nods, giving a signal to the rest of the girls. Kate immediately knowing what to do, she basically sprints out of the room to get some stuff from the ‘Avengers special room’, it´s not even a minute and she's back with some ropes, wand, few straps, and handcuffs.  

It´s your first time with them, so they don’t want to overstimulate you that much. Other toys for other days. 

Maria takes the ropes and starts to tie your hands together, putting them above your head, “Keep them there.”  

“Yes, -” you stop yourself and Maria raises her eyebrow, she knows that you wanted to use your manners and address her by a title, but your little messy head does not know which one to use. 

“Sir.” She smirks and you nod a little. 

“Yes, sir,” you give her a little smile, it makes so much sense, that this is her title. 

“Already being so good?” Natasha kisses your forehead, going to the kitchen and making sure she's putting the phone in a good place for the perfect angle of her little movie. 

Lots of things are happening and you feel people touching you all over your body. Hill finishes tying your hands together and she comes to Natasha, both of them are saying something, but you can't hear at all. Your attention is now on Wanda and Kate, they are slowly tying your legs together, is hot, but adorable at the same time as the witch is teaching the young archer how to do the perfect knot. 

Carol is already without her clothes, having only a big strap on herself as she is adjusting the harness and even though you saw her naked already, you don’t think you could get enough of her. 

Suddenly there are some lips on yours, when they pull away, you notice it´s Yelena, you smile at her instinctively. She is a bit harsh, but you actually like it that way, and both of you know it. “Have fun, when you´re done here, come to my room. Understood?” 

You nod, again, “Understood, yes,” you whisper. 

Yelena just smiles a little, and slaps your cheek, which caught you off guard, but it sends shivers down your body, making your pussy even more wet. You´re positive that you´re already making so much mess. 

Carol finally comes to you and picks you up, without a word she places you on the table in the living room, making you the center of attention. But you don’t want her to let go of you, she's so warm and her strong embrace is making you feel like the most secured person in the entire milky way.  

“Don´t worry, malysh. Captain is very cuddly after sex.” Wanda sends you a wink as her and Kate finishes the tight knots on your legs. 

Natasha comes with a knife in her hand, slowly cutting through your clothes and with a slight smirk she says with such a rasp in her voice, “who wants to go first?” 

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💕💕💕

This went totally different way than I wanted to, but hey, here we are :p

[sturnmeovr]

♡‧₊˚ Babydaddy!Chris x Sweetheart!Reader

You and Chris were lying in bed, limbs tangled together as he repeatedly smooths a hand through your hair. Most of your days had been lazy the last couple weeks due to your morning sickness, but today your baby actually let you be productive, not giving you as much of a hard time as normal.

You and Chris spent the day online shopping, purchasing a few essentials since you still felt iffy about going in public. Nobody except immediate family and close friends knew you and Chris were expecting. After breaking the news to his brothers, he immediately facetimed his parents and close friends, holding up a sonogram to show them. Of course, most of the reactions were pure shock. He made every single person promise to not tell a soul before he ended the call, even his parents. 

Your head rested on Chris’s chest, raising and falling with each one of his breaths. An Adam Sandler movie played across the tv screen as Chris traces a finger around your belly button over and over again. The last few weeks you could feel slight movements, hinting that your baby was growing fast. A sigh escapes your lips, taking in the relaxing moment until a swift, sharp movement presses on your abdomen. You jolt at the unfamiliar feeling, letting a gasp roll off your lips as you sit up. Your actions make Chris sit up in hurry, “what? What is it?” he extends a hand out, placing it over your belly.

“I think he kicked!” you exclaimed, smoothing a hand over your stomach, poking it a few times to see if the baby would kick again. 

“Are you serious?” Chris knots a hand in his hair while looking down at your small bump. He chews at his bottom lip out of nervousness as he studies your belly for any time of sudden movement. You let out a snort, “here,” grabbing his hand and guiding it to your bump, “I think Bean felt your hand.” His body tenses up and he holds his breath, acting as if your stomach was a bomb waiting to explode. Running a hand up his arm in an attempt to relax him, his eyes flicker to yours, letting a tight lipped smile pull at his lips.

A few seconds later the same unfamiliar feeling pokes at the middle of your belly, right underneath Chris’s hand. A gasp erupts from his chest, “holy shit! Did you feel that? He just kicked the shit out of me!” His words were laced with excitement like he was a kid in a candy shop. He lets out a laugh as the baby kicks his hand a few more times, making you quickly join in. At that moment he felt more serotonin than he ever had. The small butterfly-like kicks, only separated by the layers of your skin, lightly thumping against his hand. It made him like he was meeting his child for the first time. His heart pounding heavily in his chest just like it did when he first met you - like it did when he found out you were pregnant. Chris was over the moon, everything started to feel real for him the moment he felt his baby introduced themself for the first time. All he knew was these next few months needed to fly back, he couldn’t wait to meet his baby in the flesh and neither could you.

wc - 574??

an - This is my first blurb so be careful with me 😭 Serving more babydaddy!Chris content is my mission 🫡 Also I hit 300 followers last night tysm! 🥹🫶🏻

Posting before work because why not lmaoo

Dividers & photo edits by me. Feel free to use.

Babydaddy!Chris Masterlist

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @emely9274 @loveparqdise @sweetshuga @frickin-bats @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @delusional-4-fake-people

© All Rights Reserved to m00nl1ghts1vt. Please do not copy my work.

[maya-caffrey]

Short Circuit

pairing: connor (rk800) x reader words: 1k summary: reader sees Connor outside of work for the first time in normal human clothes and dies a little bit (comedy, fluff) warnings: language, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov a/n: let's pretend this is after the good ending and androids can own property now cause we're going to Connor's place etc

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Words cannot describe the amount of hate I have for Fowler. On my day off he asks me to take some evidence over to Connor for a 'quick analysis', like, Jesus Christ dude wait for the labwork like the rest of us. The nerve of this guy, honestly. Anyway, if you were wondering why I was driving to Connor's place first thing on a Sunday, that was it.

Yes, I hate my boss, how original, but I would never pass up an opportunity to see Connor. Sure, he's my colleague, but he's also my friend. And also I may be in love with him have a normal, tiny, minuscule crush on him. I don't know how it happened, I didn't even realize it, but yes, I do, in fact, have feelings for Connor. "Oh but he's an andro-" Go fuck yourself, he's more human than most people these days.

Before I realized it, I was at his place and almost knocked on his door. Almost being the keyword here, because I heard a voice from the inside.

"Detective! Just a minute. I will be right there."

"Holy shit, how did you know? Let me guess, X-ray vision?" It's always something with him. Of course, Cyberlife's most intelligent android comes with X-ray vision. I feel stupid for not guessing right away. Wait, does this mean he had X-ray vision all this time? That feels like an ethical grey area. Is that allowed? My rapid descent down that rabbit hole was interrupted by the sound of the door being unlocked.

"Ring Camera. Come on in!" He led me inside and I absent-mindedly followed him before I noticed it. He was wearing a T-shirt and sweatpants. Connor Anderson (legal name, yes), android detective by day, who famously only wore suits, was standing in front of me, in goddamn sweats. And he looked like he stepped right out of my dreams.

I did not know it was possible to be any level of attractive in fucking pajamas, but oh my god, it absolutely was. He looked hot as hell. I don't know if it was from having only seen him in formals, or the fact that Kamski knowingly made a hottie, but I was reveling in this sight.

His T-shirt fit him exactly as it should have, and his sleeves stopped halfway through the biceps I didn't even know he had. His hair looked unkempt and tousled, which was questionable because there's no way he slept, right? I was very sure he could hear my heartbeat because that sucker was betraying me and beating way too fast.

I could not form coherent thoughts for another full minute or so. I am not even holding back, he genuinely looked so attractive he quite literally stole my breath away. All I could do was mumble nonsense while staring at him like I misplaced my glasses.

"Detective, are you alright?"

"What? Me? Yeah, no problem, bud." Bud???? I'd have slapped myself if I could.

"Your body temperature is rapidly rising and your heart is displaying signs of arrhythmia. I suggest we-"

"I suggest we nothing, Connor. I promise I'm fine." See that kids, right there, is what we call a bald-faced lie.

"If you say so. What brings you here, detective?"

"Detective? Come on, we're not at work, man. Chill."

"Alright then, (Y/n), what brings you here?" (Y/n). The way he said my name made me want to explode. Sure, everyone says my name, its my name but oh my god, when he says it, he makes me want to change my last name to his. Which would be Hank's. Huh. That's weird.

"Right, yeah, work stuff. Fowler sent me with evidence for you to analyze. Apparently, they can't wait for the lab like the rest of us mortals." I shoved the file into his hands a little too quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice how my hands were shaking. He noticed.

"Your hands are trembling." Of course he noticed. Connor notices everything.

"I'm just… cold," I lied, despite standing in his very well-heated apartment.

Connor tilted his head slightly, that signature analytical look of his making me want to crawl under a rock. "You appear to be experiencing stress. Should I—"

"Connor, no. I don't need an analysis, I need to… sit down." That was the best I could come up with. Great. Very smooth.

"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing toward his couch. I moved to sit down, hoping a change of scenery would calm my nerves. It didn’t.

Connor sat across from me, still in those damn sweatpants, his expression unreadable as he opened the file and started flipping through its contents. His focus should’ve made me feel at ease- it was just Connor being Connor- but instead, I found myself staring at his hands. They were annoyingly perfect, like the rest of him, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like if he- nope. No. Abort mission.

"Is something wrong with the file?" he asked suddenly, looking up.

"What? No! The file's fine. Great file. Top-tier evidence. You're gonna love it." Jesus Christ, someone take my mouth away.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "You’re behaving… unusually."

"I’m behaving perfectly normal," I said, crossing my arms in what I hoped was a casual way but probably looked defensive. "Maybe you're the one behaving unusually. I mean, sweatpants? Who are you and what have you done with Connor?"

He blinked, then looked down at himself as if realizing for the first time what he was wearing. "Hank suggested I try some human rituals like pajamas and sleep to better accommodate my deviancy. He claims it’s a key aspect of ‘human relaxation.’ Was this choice inappropriate?"

"No!" I said, a little too quickly. "No, you look—" amazing, perfect, hotter than anyone has a right to look "—fine. You look fine."

Connor studied me for a moment, and I swear I saw the faintest flicker of amusement cross his face. Was he… smirking? Oh no. Oh no, he knew.

"You should consider it," he said, casually returning to the file.

"Consider what?"

"Relaxing. You seem… tense."

And just like that, the ball was back in his court. I was flustered, he was composed, and I was left wondering how I was supposed to get through the rest of this visit without making a complete fool of myself.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

a/n: y'all, this is my first time writing dbh, sorry if it sucks T_T

[ennabear]

gas station!ellie fluff 😞

a/n: thanks for the love on my recent posts :3 ily guys sm you don’t even understand!!! and thanks for 500 here’s a treat!!

dedicated to: my baby my love my biggest fan @plutolovesyou 🤭

gas station!ellie who asks you to be her girlfriend after two whole months of seeing you every night and blushing profusely. she’s practically shaking in her boots, her heart is beating so loud she thinks you might hear it, but she manages to mutter, “will you be my girlfriend?” out of the blue.

gas station!ellie who smiles so big once you say yes you think you might melt. she leans over the counter and captures your lips in a sweet, long kiss. you two pull away grinning and blushing and giggling like idiots.

gas station!ellie who writes corny love letters and poems about you in her chicken scratch handwriting when things aren’t busy. she slips them into your palm when she hands you your receipt and flashes you a shy grin.

gas station!ellie who will stop at a phone booth after her shift is over and call you to make sure you got home alright. if you’re in the middle of getting ready for bed while she calls you, she’ll apologize, bid you goodnight, and try not to think about how soft and domestic it would be to get ready with you.

gas station!ellie who says her first i love you when you’re about to leave the store. you’re literally halfway out the door when you hear her call “i love you!!!” from the counter. so of course you turn around and give her a loving smooch that leaves her breathless before turning around to leave again.

gas station!ellie who will start to trust you the longer you’ve been together. you start to realize she’s not as much as a loser as you thought she was now that she can actually look you in the eyes and hold a conversation with you.

gas station!ellie who starts to write songs about you, just short and silly little things that she comes up with when she’s bored. on your anniversary she sings them all to you, feeling like her heart might explode.

gas station!ellie who usually works alone, but tonight her coworker, jet, is working alongside her. she doesn’t really mind having someone to keep her company, especially because he’s quiet and they share the same music taste.

gas station!ellie who gets teased relentlessly by jet that night after you leave. he sees how she was practically eye-fucking you and how you flirted right back, and says “holy shit, are you guys married or something?”

gas station!ellie who has never thought about marriage before, but she could actually see the two of you getting married and growing old together.