#i could write a million chapters about him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karikarasuno · 1 month ago

Text

part six | part seven | part eight

you cannot for the life of you find the bag full of clothes for donation anywhere in your garage. you packed it a few months ago and you swore you set it between a stack of boxes by your washer and dryer. you really need to reorganize this place, it's not funny anymore.

you had just put the trash and recycle containers at the end of your driveway for pick up in the morning and with your garage door still open you searched and searched and searched for that damn bag of clothes. but it's a pointless endeavor. you're officially a mess.

"hey," law's voice makes you jump about a thousand feet into the air, a sharp yelp leaving you as you turn to face him. your heart hammers in your chest from the scare and your hand flies to your chest to settle your breathing.

"oh jesus, law, you scared me!" law doesn't laugh like you expect him to. he's not the least bit amused. instead he looks tense. you'd argue even maybe angry. his presence is larger than usual. it's unexpected, so much so that your spine straightens and you shift awkwardly in place.

"is everything okay?" you ask, trepidation settling into your voice. law's shoulders immediately sag. his head falls forward slightly. but he doesn't seem exhausted like he usually does after work. something else is wrong.

"yeah, long day," he answers, taking a single step towards you. his stride is long. he cuts the distance between you almost in half. you involuntarily take a step back. the door to enter the house digs into the space between your shoulder blades since you never closed it earlier. you feel the cool air of your home against the back of your neck.

"did you wanna talk about it?" your question rings a bit hollow. if he wanted to talk you absolutely would, but law doesn't seem like he wants to come in for a cup of tea and some chatting.

"no, not really." the distance divides itself again when one of his steps turns into another. you're frozen when his eyes meet yours. his gaze is intense, hungry. you feel like cornered prey about to be devoured.

"that's okay," you swallow. "i made curry for dinner if you wanted to come in and eat. you're probably hungry."

law is so close now. your head is angling to stare up at him. his expression is stern. determined. his breaths are even, but the rise and fall of his chest is noticeable. heavy.

"thanks, but i don't really have an appetite right now."

"ok," you nod, unable to look away from him. "did you still wanna come in?"

his arm extends over your shoulder and his chest is nearly touching you, but not quite. he smells like freshly cleaned laundry and leather. his cologne is stronger tonight. intoxicating. he presses the button to close the garage door and it starts to shut with it's usual grating noise.

"you need new tracks," he says simply, leaning over so that his nose brushes your temple.

"i know," you whisper meekly. this is so different. the air is thick. so thick that every time you swallow you fear you might choke. the tension is palpable. like two magnets waiting to snap together, but being held back by an unimaginable force.

you straighten again where you're pressed against the door, but this time when you shift your face towards him your nose touches his cheek. you hear his inhale. it's a short, sharp sound. like the contact shocked him. he's just so tense. his shoulders are tight and his breathing seems forced. and when your eyes track over his face, you can see how pinched his eyebrows are.

"law?" your hand rises to rest tenderly on his chest, just your fingertips touch the soft fabric of his black t-shirt.

"yeah?" you try not to shiver at the roughness of his voice.

"are you sure you're okay?"

"i..." his free hand finds your waist and his fingers waste no time gripping you. "i've been thinking about you a lot today."

"oh?" you tilt your head, your palm flattening against his chest. "what about me?"

"just you," he says. his forehead drops to yours. his exhale mingles with your inhale and greedily you swallow it. "and about how much i've come to need you."

"need me?" you doubt law needed anyone. so this confession surprises you.

"yes you," he finally releases a laugh and it feels like you took a shot. an alcohol-like warmth bursting in your gut and blossoming deep in your belly. you know what this is. desire. primal and raw. "i missed you."

this confession is softer. but just as heavy as it sits on your shoulders and just about buckles your knees. law missed you.

"it's only been a few days," you tease, but it's empty. there's no joke hidden beneath your words.

"what? i can't miss you?" his head drops to your shoulder and his nose drags across your collarbone. you fight the urge to drape your body around him. to succumb to the carnal energy that's pulsating off of him in steady waves.

dear god, he's hardly even touched you and you feel your pulse start to race and something flutter expectantly between your legs.

"law." you can't help but whisper his name. it's full of disbelief and need. you don't want to get your hopes up, but this feels like the moment. the moment that months worth of tension and anticipation has built up to.

and strangely, you can't fight your nerves. every lick of confidence you've gathered over the years disappears. every fantasy of you romancing and seducing law into your bed vanishes. you were a vixen, a temptress, a siren in your dreams of him.

but now you just feel painfully human. wracked with nerves and trembling desire. you had no idea what to do. or where to start.

"you say my name a lot." his words are damp against your skin. a flurry of goosebumps travel up your neck when his lips graze the sensitive skin there.

"what?" your fingers curl slightly in his shirt. your eyes are shut. you don't even remember closing them.

"i like the way you say it," he explains, pressing a brief kiss to the base of your throat. you're being seduced in this reality. a victim of his lust.

"you always say it differently. sometimes it's a gasp or a sigh." he pauses to kiss you again. his lips travel up the column of your neck.

"my favorite, though, is when you're annoyed." his chuckle is dark and humorless. and you sigh out something pathetic. "your voice drops and it gets all firm. and you look up at me like you're about to roll your eyes but you never do." three more kisses follow until his lips sit just below your ear. he's liquifying you and you have a hard time understanding how you even got here.

"you always bite your lip too." his face comes into view. his eyes are half-lidded. his gaze is dangerous. starving. he brings his hand up to cradle your cheek his thumb caressing your bottom lip and pulling them apart. "i don't even think you realize it."

"are you-" your voice is unrecognizable to your own ears. it's just air that your words barely ride on. you swallow again, eyes stuck on law's lips. "are you trying to kill me?"

he laughs again. truly this time. the sound comes from his gut and punches out his throat with mirth. even that glides down your spine sensually. you honestly don't know how you're still standing. maybe its the grip he has on your waist. or just sheer willpower.

"no, but you," his hand wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you towards him so that your lips are mere millimeters apart, "you've been torturing me."

"no," you shake your head. "that's where you're wrong." you rise onto your toes, both of your hands latching onto his shoulders. "you're the problem. you're the reason i can't sleep anymore without the thought of you in my bed. you don't understand how badly i need you."

his kiss is bruising. it clatters through you, pain blossoming on your bottom lip. but it's not enough. the dam has been broken. if you don't undress him this instant you might not live to see tomorrow. it's not an exaggeration. its fate.

your hands are immediately in his hair and his arms are enclosing around your waist to pull you flush against him. your feet are barely on the ground with how securely law is clutching on to you.

the doorframe shakes when law swings the door shut behind your tangled bodies. it makes chopper bark, but neither of you have the patience to pay him any mind. you're too focused on not tripping over each other.

your legs hit the back of the couch and his large hands find your hips. he pins you in place, most of your body propped on the edge as he towers over you. as he kisses you with a ferocity that has your toes curling. he moves to your neck again. this time any tenderness he was displaying before is gone. he bites you. your body jolts from the brief instance of pain, but he licks it right away. melting the pain into pleasure. melting your mind into a goopy marshmallowed mess.

you whimper and he groans. your legs try to hook around his hips and your arms try to tug him to lay down on the sofa. you're almost successful. he nearly follows you down and a spark of excitement lights low in your belly.

"no," he pulls away.

"but-" your petulance dies in your throat when his hand comes to rest at the base of your neck. there's no pressure in his placement, just the weight of his heavy hand makes your head spin.

"not here." his breathing is ragged. animalistic in a way. "i need more space."

one second your body is teetering precariously over the edge of your couch and the other you're floating. law scoops you off balance. your feet are on the ground but he's moving so fast you don't comprehend the cold tile rubbing across the balls of your feet.

another singular second passes, and your back is on your bed and law is tearing off his shirt over his head. you're reeling. this has to be another dream. definitely wet given the state of your poor panties right now.

next he's undoing the drawstring of your sweatpants. he pulls until the elastic waistband is loose enough to tug over your hips. you wiggle in an attempt to help him but you're kind of useless. law is half-naked in front of you and the sight of his muscles working to take your clothes off has your mouthwatering and your mind glazing over in awe.

what is he doing to you? you've never felt anything quite like this. it feels as if the world could end if you didn't have him as close to you as possible in the next five seconds.

once your pants are gone, law's hands are smoothing up your calves and over your thighs. his inked fingers are a particular interest of yours. they're just so solid and stable and sexy.

your fingers fist your comforter when his find the elastic band of your underwear. you hiss as his nails scrape sensitive flesh when they hook beneath the thin fabric.

his head snaps up at the sound. his eyes are wild and unfocused. you blink at him doe-eyed and helpless. your lips part to say something but you don't have the brain to formulate anything worth saying. you watch acutely as his face softens. as his expression finds the fondness you're used to.

"you can tell me to stop if i'm being too rough with you," he says apologetically. but there's nothing to be sorry for.

"don't do that," you breathe. "stop second guessing this. stop hesitating. please i just-"

you reach to unbuckle his belt and with shaky albeit determined fingers you undo his jeans. " i need you to please, for the love of god, just fuck me."

you can tell law has always lived a life of skepticism and questioning. of necessary control. you couldn't blame him really after knowing his past. but there is no use for it here. now. and you can see the moment that clicks into place in his mind. the epiphany writes itself like constellations in his eyes.

he shakes his head before he straightens. he’s looking down at you like you’ve done something incredulous. unbelievable. he removes his belt. the buckle clangs on the ground when he drops it. his thumbs loop into his open jeans. you cannot take your eyes off of him as he drags them over his hips until they fall to his feet. breathing is now a foreign concept. you don’t remember the last time you inhaled.

he’s hard in his boxer briefs. and he’s leaking through the cotton. you don’t know what to do. it’s like you’ve never had sex before. it feels new. tempting. as if you’re about to do something bad. sinful.

if law is the reason your ass ends up in hell then so be it. you would make this exact decision again and again in every lifetime. you rip off your shirt and toss it on the ground. law is still standing at the foot of your bed watching you.

“i would’ve put on something nicer if i knew you’d be coming over,” you joke, scooting backwards on your bed until you reach your pillows. you aren’t exactly self conscious, but again you’ve been fantasizing about this for forever. and a sports bra and boy shorts were never part of that fantasy.

“it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.” law finally crawls towards you. his weight sinking into your mattress. your bed isn’t as big as his. he makes it look absurdly small actually.

his hand wraps around your calf, the heat from his palm radiating up your body, and he yanks you down until you’re flat on your back again.

“you’re perfect just like this.” you’re certain you’re delirious now. he doesn’t necessarily say the words to you. his eyes are locked on his wandering hand. a hand that’s currently drifting over your inner thigh. your hips twitch.

he drops a kiss to each of your cheeks. then he peppers wet kisses down your jaw. his lips find your ear the moment his hand cups your pussy. “it’s not like you’ll be wearing anything for long, anyway.”

his teeth nip at your earlobe and his fingers find the wet patch on your underwear and he presses against it. the moan that falls from your lips is borderline pitiful. he seems to relish in it though. it spurs him on as he continues his onslaught of kisses to your neck again. after so many times of almost sleeping together, you’ve figured out that law really enjoys your neck. not that you can complain. because every time his lips suck right at the spot behind your ear you turn into putty. it’s a special button only he has access to. a button that has even more slick pooling in your panties.

he must feel the way you soak through them because his fingers start rubbing against you. and shamelessly every time he makes contact with your clit you can’t stop the way you rut against his fingertips. his lips descend down over your collarbone and he mouthes at your cleavage. he groans when your hips jump as he swipes his tongue beneath the constricting fabric of your bra.

“this is fun.” he’s referring to your sports bra, his breath a small chuckle when he notices that it’s the kind that zips in the front. law decides to unzip it with his teeth. meanwhile, you decide he has to be a demon. something sent to both please and punish you. for what you aren’t sure yet.

when your bra falls away and your tits are exposed to him, his mouth is enclosing around your nipple in seconds. it’s warm and you gasp. he’s not being rough but he’s not being gentle either. he’s just being a man who ultimately is getting what he’s been wanting for who knows how long.

as his mouth occupies itself with your chest, his fingers go on an entirely different adventure. he manages to shimmy you out of your underwear with positively no help from you because your brain is no longer sending signals to the rest of your body. but when he parts your folds, when he finally feels the absolute mess he’s been making of you, his groan sends a shock through your system. in truth, it’s more like a purr. it’s low and deep and reverberates through his body straight into yours.

you whimper. it’s embarrassing and unexpected. but it doesn’t give him pause, instead two of his fingers are sliding into you. so easily you should be ashamed. he makes it hard to be though.

“sometimes i don’t understand how you’re real,” he murmurs into your chest, his words are slurred around your nipple.

“i swear you’re just so-“ he starts to scissor his fingers inside of you and the sticky wet sounds hit your ears so loudly you nearly cringe. you undulate your hips in the hopes that his fingers will at least graze your g spot, but law is one step ahead of you. always shifting his fingers away just so whenever he comes close to feeling the spongey tissue.

“please,” you really aren’t above begging. and maybe that’s what he wants. except it doesn’t help. he’s toying with you on purpose. “law, please.”

“again,” he demands, but you don’t know what he wants. you only know what you want. what you need. and the answer to both is to come.

“say my name again,” he says when you don’t respond. he lifts his head from your breasts, both covered in his spit. the same spit that moistens his lips. “come on, baby. say it and i’ll give you whatever you want.”

to sweeten the deal he presses his thumb to your clit. you jolt beneath him from the dual sensation. if he keeps this up he’ll force an orgasm from you and he barely has to do anything. his fingers aren’t even moving inside of you anymore yet you feel like an exposed wire. sparking and twitching under his attention.

“la-aw,” he hooks his fingers inside of you, effectively slicing his name in half. your eyes nearly roll back but they don’t because looking at him is so much better. his broad shoulders and handsome face are the only things taking up your view. he starts rubbing his thumb in insistent circles on your clit and his fingers push against your g spot in a carefully coordinated attack to unravel you. you knew law was good with his mouth but his fingers. he must have known you in another life. that’s the only explanation for how quickly and easily he’s hurdling you to your finish.

“that’s it.” you squirm at how harsh his voice has gotten. it’s dropped an octave and it forces a shiver to rattle down your spine. “fuck, look at you. such a pretty girl.”

his gaze lights fires across your skin. the flames lick at you, fierce and brutal. you can’t stand it. it’s too much. just as your orgasm hits you turn your face away from him, your back arching and you inhale so abruptly it dries out your throat. you muffle your cries into your comforter. your vision flaring with spots before it goes completely black. his fingers still wiggle inside of you even as you come down. he wants to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. and it’s working.

your back meets the mattress again. your cries whimper off into choked breaths. your vision slowly, but surely returns to you. but he’s still moving. you grab his wrist with weak fingers, barely mustering the energy to push him away.

“i can’t,” you whine, sighing when his fingers slip from inside you. “holy shit.”

you peek up at him through wet lashes and heavy eye lids. his breathing is ragged, and you follow his gaze down to his hand. he’s spreading his fingers to see how your cum strings between them. he’s mesmerized. he brings his hand to his mouth. his eyes fall shut when he licks you clean off of him.

he’s a liar. he absolutely is trying to kill you.

without another word he’s slinking off the bed. you don’t have it in you yet to question what he’s up to. instead you watch as he gathers his jeans from the ground and pulls his wallet from one of the pockets.

“shit,” he swears, eyes screwing shut as he shakes his head. you’re confused. “i forgot to grab a condom.”

“oh.” and you giggle, your heart settling down and the endorphins give you that fuzzy feeling again. you lean over off of your bed and reach for the cabinet on your nightstand.

“that’s okay. i have some.” you toss him the unopened box. he spins it in his hands, reading it over with the most amused expression on his face.

“when did you get these?”

“last week,” you admit. “after you left for work.”

“right,” he nods, “of course you did.”

“don’t give me that, you’re lucky i’m prepared. if not i would make your ass go to the nearest pharmacy and pick some up tonight.”

he laughs again as he tears open the box, throwing it onto the foot of your bed after he pulls out a condom. he kicks off his underwear while he’s there too. and a sudden surge of giddy excitement courses through you. out of nowhere a flurry of energy starts drumming within you.

law is actually about to fuck you. it’s hard to believe. after so many close calls you don’t want to jinx it but you know this is it. you throw your bra off the bed having forgotten it was still on from earlier and you wrestle your comforter out from beneath you to situate your body under the flat sheet.

law is looking at you peculiarly.

“what?” you deadpan.

“why are you laughing?” you hadn’t realized you were.

“just get over here,” you grab his arm and jerk him so hard he practically falls on top of you. you throw the blanket off of your naked body so that law could get beneath it too. “i’m just excited, i guess.”

he’s laying between your parted thighs now. this is the closest you two have ever been and it feels so natural. his weight on top of you. his face a few inches away. his scent mingling with yours in a drunken dance.

law can’t stop the smile that tugs at his lips as he looks down at you. he drops a brief peck to your lips before he begins to line himself up with your entrance.

“wait.” his tip is actively pressing into you when he halts in place. “i’m nervous.”

“are you alright?” his eyes are concerned as he brings his hand back up to push the hair from your face and caress your cheek.

“yes.” weird emotions are building in your chest. feelings that are far scarier to admit out loud. it feels like an end of a chapter, but also like the beginning of a different book entirely. “but why do i feel like this is my first time?”

he actually scoffs, his head drops down and he sighs your name so heavily maybe the exhaustion of the day has finally caught up with him. “do you think before you say things or do you just say them?”

“listen i’m very vulnerable right now and honestly i came so hard a few minutes ago i think you broke me.”

“i didn’t break you. look,” he pokes at your side and you flinch away. his fingers tickle up your waist and you writhe while trying to suppress a laugh. “see you’re not broken.”

“you don’t get it,” you giggle lightly and swat his hand away when it gets way too close to your armpit.

“for what it’s worth,” he drops to his elbows, most of his weight now bearing down on you and he rests his forehead on yours. “i’m a little nervous too. i’m just way too hard right now to focus on anything other than the fact that i’m about to be inside you.”

“so you’re also excited?” his words are worth all the treasure in the world because your nerves evaporate. as if they were never there at all.

“very.” he kisses you. soft and slow. his tongue slides across your bottom lip and you part them immediately. as your tongues glide against each other you sneak a hand between your bodies. your fingers make contact with latex, and your wrap them around his dick as soon as you’re able to reach. he gently thrusts into your palm. his tip slips between your folds in a languid grind.

you rub him against you until his kisses are interrupted by his own stuttered exhales. when you open your eyes you see how his face is scrunched up and how his breath leaves his lips in quiet wheezes. ok, fine he really does look tortured like this. a small thrill shoots down into your stomach when you realize that it's because of you. you do this to him.

you line him up, tilting your hips towards him just as his head catches your entrance and during the next roll of your hips he sinks into you. the stretch has your head falling back and he groans against your cheek.

"fuck, baby, you feel so good," he moans right into your ear and with another roll of your hips he sinks deeper into you. "s'tight, fu-"

your own moan cuts him off. you're still sensitive from your first orgasm, and law's cock is actually made for you. he fills you up perfectly, thick enough to make you drool. his thrusts start out shallow as you adjust to each other. his hand has found your hip, his fingers digging into your fat and you know-- hope-- that marks are left behind when you wake up in the morning.

control is only yours for a few more moments though because law's hips start to find a rhythm of their own. each slap is heavy and deep. each one scoots you further up the bed until your head brushes your headboard.

you hardly feel the dull thuds though. not with the way law hooks your thigh over his elbow and presses your knee towards your chest.

"shit," your nails dig into his bicep as you try to withstand how deeply he's fucking you. the pillow beside your head crumples beneath the weight of his forearm when his hand comes up to rest between your crown and the headboard.

"sorry," he apologizes hurriedly, "for this." his pace quickens, your eyes roll back, and his hand gets tangled in your hair.

"harder," you gasp, your thighs attempting to shut around his waist. his legs bend at the knees and it lifts your hips from the bed. the angle allows him to fulfill your request. and a sob claws its way out of your throat.

"i'm gonna cum," he grunts out between gritted teeth, his face buried in the space between your neck and shoulder.

"inside?" you whine, hopeful, even though deep down you know he's wearing a condom. how unfortunate.

"yes, love," he rasps, his thrusts getting slightly faster as he gets closer to climax. "if that's what you want i'll give it to you."

"yes, yes, please, fuck, ple-" if you're crying that's none of your business. you can't possibly control anything right now. your body is completely his. and you gave it to him willingly. with no intentions of asking for it back if he continues fucking you like this.

you only regret one thing. not being lucid enough to witness law's orgasm with your own eyes. you hear it, feel it, but when your second one quakes through your trembling body, you miss seeing it.

your limbs are numb. your thoughts are murky and disjointed. when he collapses on you, you welcome the weight of him like a security blanket.

"that was..." law can't even finish his sentence. not that he needs to. because you know what that was. it was euphoric. your own sick form of exaltation.

you follow his warmth when he eventually rolls off of you. you paste yourself to his side. and in the quiet moments of bliss that follow, law's hand draws comforting symbols down your arm and across your spine. sleep is somewhere nearby. you feel her whisper at your senses to rest. but you're too greedy to let go of this time with him. not yet. you'll sleep later.

"thank you," he whispers into the top of your head. not really loud enough for you to hear, but it's so silent and you're so attune to him that it would've been impossible for you to miss it.

"the last time you thanked me, you avoided me for days," you complain, burrowing your face into his chest just in time to feel his laugh rumble through him.

"last time was different," he pauses, and you could hear the contemplation in his tone. "last time i was an idiot who should've kissed you good night."

"oh, so this time you made sure to get what you wanted," you teased, your finger gently poking at his side like he did to you earlier.

"this time i realized that after a shitty day all i wanted was you. however you would have me." his hand is tilting your chin so that you're looking up at him. and all you can see in his eyes is an earnest devotion. one that settles over you so intensely you're not sure if alarm bells that you're in too deep are supposed to be going off. "being with you like this is just a bonus."

"well," you sit up so that you're propped up on his chest. "are you gonna tell me why your day was so shitty?"

he sighs, his lips pressing into a thin line as he thinks. "i almost lost a patient today. everything is fine now, but it's moments like that that have me question if holding someone's life in my hands is worth it. feels like i'm gambling. like i'm tempting fate somehow."

“when was the last time you lost a patient?” you ask, your fingers making odd shapes over his heart.

“it’s been a few years,” he sighs. “but that fear never really leaves you.”

“it sounds to me like you’re incredible at what you do and that even with the scare today, you still managed to save a life. tempting fate is what we do as humans, you’re just better at it than anyone else.”

he gives you a small smile. and in his eyes you can see the reflection of something you know you hold in your heart. a type of fondness that transcends simple companionship. he leans forward to kiss you. it has none of the lust or desperation from earlier. but something even more tantalizing. something that you used your fingers to spell out on his chest. just four quick letters that you etch superficially into his skin like a secret.

"i called off tomorrow,” he responds eventually. his hand is propped behind his head as you both relax in each others arms.

"oooh, i'll play hooky with you,” you say, giddiness returning at the prospect of having him all to yourself for an entire day.

"good, because i have big plans for you in the morning,” he twists so that he’s facing you, his arms looping around your waist and pulling you further into his chest.

"care to share?" you ask, already knowing what your plans are for him. all of which include little to no clothing.

"mhmm, you and i..." he leans in really close, his nose nuzzles yours and his lips brush featherlight between your own, "are cleaning out that fucking garage."

you groan. your head falls back and you playfully hit his chest with a loose fist. “i told you it was bad.”

"it’s worse than bad. if i wasn't so distracted i probably would've dropped from a heart attack." and although he’s scolding you, when you try to pull away he chases you.

"ok, drama,” you roll your eyes, turning around so that he’s spooning you. "just don't wake me up too early unless you amend your plans to include rolling around in my sheets again."

"i'll consider it."

part nine

#why do i love this man so much #I’ve formed some parasitic relationship to him #i could write a million chapters about him #anyway i hope you like this #if you don’t i expect you to lie #shortnspicy🌶️#trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #neighbor!law au

319 notes · View notes

reyalvr · 10 months ago

Text

SHE'S MINE | 01

I'M ALL IN, I CAN'T REVERSE IT-

synopsis ┊ thrust into the spotlight, ken sato had easily become the next big thing tokyo had seen in decades. alongside his fame came the inevitable string of rumors, of which sprung forth scandals and discrediting information against his image. of course the obvious and most rational solution would be to address them like every other celebrity, but this was ken sato; nothing would ever be rational with him, which is how you wound up with a ring on your finger and the sato name in your papers.

genre ┊ fake dating, fake marriage, idiots-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, slight angst, chaotic fluff, mild smut

pairing ┊ ken sato x fem-PA!reader, ken sato x fake-wife!reader

warnings ┊ mild cursing, eventual smut, mentions of alcohol, all events in ultraman: rising take place a year after kenji moves back to japan

word count ┊ 3.2k

author’s note ┊ WOOHOO part one finally out! thank you so much for all the love on the prologue, it made me so motivated to make this as good as possible hehe >.< each chapter title is based off of a lyric in my writing playlist for this series, lmk if you guys would like me to drop it ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶. happy reading!

prev. | next

KEN KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP SHIT. Knee deep, even. If you asked him what was going through his head thirty seconds ago, he wouldn’t be able to tell you even if he wanted to. Everything that happened next was a blur- from shaking hands with the host to walking back to his dressing room, it felt like he was operating on autopilot. Who wouldn’t be, though? He had just announced to the world that he was officially taken; that he was off the market- hooked. Of course, it wouldn’t have been a problem if it were true…

But it wasn’t.

He had just lied to an audience of a hundred people- not to mention the millions throughout the various streaming platforms the show was being aired on. His nails dug into his palm as he neared his dressing room, the bold, black letters of his name growing larger and larger each step he took. His heart was pounding, and he swore he felt chill down his spine the moment he opened the door. No one could blame him though, not if they knew the inevitable wrath they were about to face.

You were stood there, eyes narrowed and resting all your weight on your hip. Your arms were crossed, your lips were pursed. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, staring at each other as you waited for the other to speak up. Ken swallowed nervously, tapping his foot as he tried formulating an explanation. He wasn’t entirely sure as to why he was so overstrung, it was just you. Why should he be terrified of your scolding on his recent screw up?

“Special someone, huh?” You said through your teeth, finally breaking the tense silence in the room. “So special that nobody on your team knew of her prior to your public love confession?”

Ah. That was why. The way you were able to see right through him scared him sometimes. He never outwardly showed his reactions, though- at least he tried not to. He cleared his throat before finally moving to plop down on the couch, doing his damndest not to show his jitters.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I lied, so what?” He replied, his cocky tone masking the unsureness in his words. “It’s not the first time I’ve done it.”

Strike one. As if you couldn’t have been any more pissed off, that seemed to be the tipping point. You paused before letting out a deep breath, circling around him. He closed his eyes when he knew you were behind him, and he waited for you to berate him; to remind him of the consequences of his actions. He waited, but it never came. He opened one eye, and he relaxed when you moved to sit on the opposite couch. He was spared… for now.

“What, no scolding?” He decided to test, tilting his head to the side as he watched you.

You only let out a small laugh, and somehow that was worse than any scolding he’d ever received from you. You were oddly calm, like all your anger had just melted away. Leaning forward, you slid an enclosed piece of paper across the table towards him.

“Can you guess what this is, Ken?” You ask, your eyes finally looking back up to meet his.

Ken knew not to answer. He was ready to spit out some witty reply, but the look in your eyes told him that this was going to go down another route; one that he definitely didn’t want to aggravate.

“It’s my resignation letter.” You say nonchalantly, causing him to straighten up once more. “I keep it handy.”

Resignation letter? Was this real? Were you actually going to quit over this? He opened his mouth to speak up but quickly shut it when you maintained your soul-searching gaze. He tried to relax, yet the furrow in his eyebrows seemed to stay as you continued on.

“I’m going to be very clear on what’s going to happen next, Ken.” You say, resting your arms on your knees. “This will be the last time I help you clear up a mishap. After everything is settled, I’m gone.”

Gone. His eyes widened slightly, the palms of his hands starting to get clammy. He let out a light, nervous laugh, looking at you as if you had just said something absurd. Which, in his defense, you sort of did. Again, he had no idea why this news was so shocking to him, seeing as you’d only worked under him for a year and a half. Surely he couldn’t have been that terrible, right? He stared at the folded paper in front of him before speaking up.

“What, uh, what do you mean gone?” He asked through a breathy laugh. “Gone like a break or something? I’m happy to give you one-”

“Gone as in I quit.” You cut him off, standing up as you adjusted the sleeves of your shirt. “Like I said, this is the last time I clean up your mess, Ken Sato.”

You moved to walk away, but he quickly caught your arm. “Woah, hold on a sec,” He stood up, looking down at you with stunned eyes. “Quit? C’mon, [Y/N] I know I screwed up but you can’t just leave me hanging like this-”

You scoffed at him then, yanking your arm out of his grasp. “Oh I can’t leave you hanging, huh? Tell me, Ken, how many times have I saved your ass in the last eighteen months I’ve been working for you, hm?”

He swallowed dryly as he tried to recall. He was used to having his name on headlines, most especially after his move last year. He couldn’t go five seconds without seeing his ads pop up on his platforms, hell he couldn’t even go five blocks without seeing a billboard with his face on it. Which all brought him back to one thing: not one negative scandal under his name. With you, he was perfect; jack of all trades in the MLB and the internet’s favorite spokesperson.

Shit. Strike two.

You only hummed in response once you read over his expression. “Exactly. So the next time you even think about downplaying my job, remember how I was the reason for your recent success.”

Ken was at a loss for words. Rarely was he ever left speechless, he always seemed to have a response ready for anything. But now was definitely not one of those times. He watched as you bent down to retrieve that dreaded letter, and you shoved it into his chest before moving to finally walk past him.

“Our flight leaves tomorrow at five a.m, I'll see you in the lobby at three.” You say, not so much as sparing him a glance as you fixed your bag.

He managed to let out a quiet ‘okay’, gripping onto your letter tightly as he watched you pack up. Damn Ken, you really did it this time, didn’t you? He thought to himself, wondering how- or rather, if he would be able to make things right with you. For the first time in his career, he was thinking about someone else other than himself.

“Oh and Ken,” You say, breaking him out of his dazed stance.

“Hm?” He hummed out, averting his gaze to be level with yours.

“You had better pray that the next assistant you get is half as good as I am.” You said before closing the door, leaving him alone in his dressing room. All of a sudden it felt… quiet. Too quiet. He sighed, dropping down on the couch once more before closing his eyes and masking his face with his hands.

Strike three.

THE TENSION IN THE CAR WAS PAINSTAKINGLY PALPABLE. Ken’s leg bounced as the two of you were stuck in airport traffic, the car unmoving for nearly half an hour now. Your occasional sighs and the hum of the car’s engine were the only sounds filling the air. He felt like he was going crazy. He hadn’t been able to sleep properly the night before thanks to your bombshell of an announcement. In comparison, though, he probably shouldn’t be complaining about bombshells when he himself dropped one twice the size of yours.

Still, he was restless. You hadn’t uttered a single word to him since landing back in Tokyo, and the unwanted solitude was driving him nuts. He glanced over at you through his shades, noting the way you were impatiently tapping your fingers against the wheel. Obviously you were still pissed at his little stunt, and the articles following the incident didn’t aid in calming your anger.

He knew it wasn’t smart, but he needed to talk to you. The sea of red lights in front of him remained stagnant, and he didn’t want to spend another minute in this deafening quietude. He gnawed at his bottom lip before finally breaking the silence.

“Can we talk?” He said, looking over at you.

“No.” You replied bluntly.

“[Y/N]-” He started, but one glance from you was enough to shut him up.

“I am doing you a huge favor by helping you solve the mess you created.” You said as you looked back at the road ahead of you, lifting your fingers and circling your thumbs around the wheel. “I could’ve left right then and there, leaving you to deal with this on your own. But I didn’t, I don’t know why, but I didn’t.”

You looked back up at him, and only now did he notice the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your complexion. Something inside him twisted; he couldn’t tell if it was guilt or regret. Guilt, probably, for having to rely on you to correct his mistakes, and regret for even causing this whole debacle in the first place.

“The least I’m asking from you is your compliance.” You say tiredly, the glint in your eyes doing most of the talking.

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He managed to get out, leaning back into the passenger seat.

And just like that, the dreaded silence was back. By some miracle the traffic started to gain some speed, the taillights of the cars ahead of him dispersing onto the road. His head hit the back of the headrest, and he sat through the entire ride back to the Tokyo Dome contemplating his recent choices.

It was only when you knocked on the window of the passenger side when he realized he had finally reached his destination. He got out, stretching his limbs after being cramped inside the car for so long. He threw on his jacket lazily, not even bothering to zip it up. He went to put on his cap, but then he noticed something odd.

It was quiet outside the building, the bristle of the trees and the nearby roads the only sound filling his ears. There was something lacking; the neverending shuttering sounds of cameras and eager voices yelling at him to look or to say something. He realized then the lack of paparazzi and reporters outside to greet him, just like they usually did whenever he came back from a trip. His head turned, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked around. Not a single one in sight.

“‘Something wrong?” You asked as you walked past him to swipe your ID into the security system.

“It’s just,” He said, still looking around in confusion. He let out an airy laugh as he followed you inside, the expression on his face remaining the same. “There’s no paps or anything.”

At that you laugh, albeit sarcastically, waiting for him to get into the elevator. “You know that might be the first time I’ve ever heard a famous person complain about not being bombarded by ill-intent people.”

“I’m not complaining, trust me.” He says, putting his hands up halfway in defense. “It’s weird. That’s all.”

“Well that’s what happens when people think you’re spending time with your special someone after being away for so long.” You say, pulling up a press announcement on your phone.

For a split second, Kenji had completely forgotten that he had to keep up the fact that he supposedly had a significant other waiting for him at home. He let out an ‘ah’, sliding his hands into his pockets as the elevator went up. Again his heart panged, finally realizing why your eyebags were deeper than they usually were. While he may have had discomfort in his slumber, it didn’t compare to the hours you were up trying to get everything settled here.

You held the door open to your office, letting him in first. Once the lights were on, he was greeted with your infamous whiteboard, different scribbles of colorful ink filling up the space corner to corner. He cringed at the bolded date of the talk show he was on.

“Your bags will be sent here in the next hour, and valet has your bike ready.” You say, doing the usual routine you did whenever the both of you came back from work trips. He sat down on the sofa, nodding each time you reminded him of something.

“Now, about the issue,” You walk over to the whiteboard, erasing its contents. “We need to find you a fake girlfriend.”

He choked on nothing, not surprised by the news but surprised by the continued bluntness of your tone. “I beg your pardon?”

“We need to find you a fake girlfriend.” You repeated, emphasizing the words obnoxiously.

“Yeah I get that,” He finally replied, a look of uncertainty splashing his features. “But you’re making it sound like all we need to do is shop around.”

“Well unless you can give me a face, let alone a name to your special someone, this is the plan we have.” You retort, resting a hand at your hip as the other points at the board.

“Why can’t I just be one of those celebrities who keep their relationship private?” He questions genuinely.

“Oh I’m sorry, who was the one who announced that they were in love on live television?” You remind him, annoyance laced in your words.

He bites back any sort of sarcastic remark that conjures up in the back of his head. You were right, obviously you were right. But some part of him felt it was… unfair to not have a say in this. Stupid, yes, but it’s how he felt.

“Can I continue or is there anything else you want to unnecessarily add?” You ask, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

He only lifted a hand, signaling for you to carry on. You go on to explain that whoever ends up “dating” him will need to have to go through a contract signing, NDA included. You draw up charts on your board, showing him the possible stats of his ratings if he’ll be able to pull this off.

“Your next playoff season is about to start, I suggest we get all this settled by then.” You scroll on your smartwatch, looking at the calendar. “It gives me two weeks to plan everything out. I need you here tomorrow bright and early so that we can go through a list of potential candidates.”

“Candidates? What is this, speed-dating?” He says, making a face at all the analytical parts of your plan.

“No, it’s a game called ‘save-my-reputation.’” You answer snarkily, narrowing your eyes slightly at him.

He takes in a deep breath, starting to get annoyed with your remarks. He knew he had no right to, but to think that you were just dictating away at his choices made him feel like some sort of plaything.

“I just don’t understand why we even need to find a ‘girlfriend’ in the first place.” He massages the back of his head before crossing his arms. “I mean everyone thinks I’ve successfully hidden my love life up until now, what’s the point of going all out?”

He could see you clench your fingers around the marker, and he knew he was close to reaching your tipping once more. All in the span of twenty-four hours. You pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke up.

“Ken. You told the world that you were in love.” You say in an eerily calm tone. “You got yourself into this mess, now you have to get yourself out of it. And unless you want to say goodbye to your stardom, this is what you need to do.”

He opened his mouth to speak up but was cut off by your phone’s ringing. You answered, spewing out a quick and formal ‘thank you’ to whoever was on the other line. You sighed, placing your marker back down on your desk before you walked past him towards the glass door.

“Your bags are here.” You say, opening the door. “Your bike’s parked outside and everything should be good to go.”

Your demeanor had changed in a split second, going from PR manager to assistant in the blink of an eye. At times Ken wondered how you were able to juggle everything. It wasn’t the main thing that was on his mind, he had… other, more serious things to worry about. Like the other secret he had kept from you all this time; Ultraman. He shook his head, trying not to focus on his double life on top of the situation he was in.

Ken knew that your words were a sign to get up and get out, and he did just that. You followed him all the way back down to the lobby of the stadium, handing him his duffel bag and walking him to his bike. Despite your earlier mood, you did your checks on his motorbike that he had grown accustomed to after a while.

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” You remind him, crossing your arms as he got on his bike. “Please.”

“Tomorrow, bright and early.” He repeats through a huff, slinging his bag into the compartment attached to the back of his motorbike. “Got it.”

You only hummed in response, turning away to walk back into the stadium. He didn’t know what it was that came over him, but before he knew it he was grabbing your arm softly once more. Your head spun around to look at him, more of your stray hairs spilling out of your updo. At this angle the sunset brought out the shininess of your eyes, the early evening shadows accentuating your features.

He swallowed before he continued. “You know for what it’s worth, I really am sorry.”

Instead of another curt response, though, you sighed as you pressed your lips together. He lets go of your arm then, not wanting to invade anymore of your personal space than he already has. He can see you poke your tongue into your cheek, a habit you did when you were in contemplation.

“Well,” You finally breathe out, your expression relaxing. “If you’re actually as sorry as you say you are, you’ll do as I say.”

“‘Course.” He says before his face gets obscured by his helmet. He nods towards your direction once more before finally revving the engine.

Only time will tell what the outcome is, but whatever it is, he hopes he ends up in the one where you don’t loathe his very being.

tags┊@mochminnie, @rreasonablydumbb, @sincerest-one, @fruticake, @lunaryasha, @lovingyeet, @sugacor3, @arrozyfrijoles23, @fennecspage, @mmeerraa, @azryaa, @akiradailylifes, @montybooks, @mmv-ymvm, @hore4ken, @greeniegreengreen, @meikoo, @random-3455, @todaywasafairytale07, @mythicalmoa, @imafangirlofeverything, @astylos, @vynwan-cbq, @rosegiyanabing, @icedberrytea, @ken-zah, @letharue, @chi222, @flooftoof, @c4ttheart, @ymrai, @stxrrielle, @alpha-mommy69, @ewitscat, @lightsinmycity, @furblrwurblr, @ayamago, @sugururawr, @secretlyapartofthisfandom @shellspider, @oh-kurva, @noraimp

6K notes · View notes

aliyahwritings · 7 months ago

Text

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (01)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.2k

Aliyah's Notes: this is my first series on here so go easy on me (#adele) pls + some things are not going to be obx canon ... at least some of yall are warned. anyw im so excited for this cause lord knows the amount of time ive wanted to make a fake dating fic!!!!!!! anyw i hope you all will enjoy this i had so much writing the first chapter

The clatter of high heels against the marble floor echoed in perfect sync with the ticking of your watch. Every step was deliberate, poised—just like your life had to be. Perfection, it seemed, was not a choice but a requirement for survival.

You adjusted your sunglasses, your gaze skimming over the glamorous expanse of the fashion agency's lobby. People buzzed around you like bees in a hive, their worlds spinning, fueled by the weight of names, status, and flawless images. You smiled politely at the receptionist, offering a nod, though your mind was miles away.

To the outside world, your life was golden. The covers of magazines, the invitations to high-society events, the million-dollar deals with luxury brands—it was a fantasy that others could only dream of. It was your dream some time ago, too.

But today, your reality felt like walking on the edge of a tightrope, the safety net fraying below you.

Your phone vibrated in your purse, interrupting your thoughts. You fished it out, your pulse quickening when you saw the text from your lawyer. Three words that sent a chill through your carefully constructed façade.

"We need to talk."

Your heart sank. The issue of your visa had been hanging over your head like a storm cloud for months now, growing darker by the day. You’d known this was coming, but knowing and confronting it were two different beasts.

Fame didn’t shield you from the cold bureaucracy of citizenship laws, and your time was running out. One misstep, one delay, and your golden empire could crumble. In a matter of months, you could be deported, left behind by the very country that had built you up.

With a deep breath, you silenced your phone and slid it back into your purse. This wasn’t something you could dwell on right now, not in public. Your expression remained serene, even though your mind was anything but. You had a shoot in an hour, a charity gala that evening, and at some point, you had to meet with the lawyer to discuss "options"—a word that had started to feel more like a trap than a solution.

As you exited the building, the cool breeze caught your hair, the city unfolding before you like a glittering stage. New York City. You looked out at the streets, the people, the life you fought so hard to build. The car pulled up to the curb, and you climbed inside. On your way to your lawyer.

You stepped into the law office, the familiar scent of polished wood and stale coffee wrapping around you like a tight band.

"Ms. Y/L/N, good afternoon," Nicolas Ramirez, your lawyer, greeted you, standing behind his desk. His expression was composed, but you knew him well enough by now to spot the unease in his eyes.

"Hi," you softly smiled at him. Your heels clicked softly on the floor as you sat down, crossing your legs tightly, as if holding yourself together. "Let’s just get straight to it, okay? How bad is it?"

Nico sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Your visa expires in less than three months."

You felt your stomach twist, your worst fear inching closer to reality. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. "And what about the appeals? The extensions?"

"We’ve exhausted every possible option—work visas, artist visas, even humanitarian grounds. Immigration laws are tightening, and without a permanent solution like citizenship or residency, you’ll be forced to leave the country."

"Leave?" Your voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the full weight of the nightmare you’d been living with.

Leave? Go back there?

The country you had fought so hard to escape. The country where your childhood had been marked by suffocating poverty, where your parents had already planned your marriage before you even turned 15. Where your dreams had been a distant, impossible hope until that one person changed your life forever.

You felt your throat tighten. You couldn’t go back.

Nico’s gaze softened slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "I know what this means for you. I know how difficult—"

"You don’t know," you cut him off, your voice sharper than you intended. "You… You don’t know—I can’t go back there, Nico. I just… I can’t."

He nodded, giving you a moment of silence to compose yourself, but the pressure in your chest only grew. You took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay.

"So what now?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Is this it? Am I out of options?"

"Well… There’s one option we haven’t explored yet." his tone was cautious, like he knew what he was about to say would open a new can of worms.

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

"Marriage."

The word hung in the air, thick and heavy. You blinked, unable to comprehend at first. "Marriage?" you repeated, as if saying it aloud would make the absurdity of it clear.

"It’s one of the few legal paths left," he explained, leaning forward slightly. "Marriage to a U.S. citizen could secure your green card and, eventually, permanent residency. It’s a legitimate route—many people in similar situations have done it."

You sat back in your chair, the tension in your body coiling tighter. The thought of marriage, of attaching yourself to someone you barely knew for the sake of staying in the country, made your skin crawl. You had already sacrificed so much for your freedom, for your career. And now this?

"You’re telling me the only way to stay here is to marry someone I don’t even love? Just to avoid being sent back to a country I don’t belong in anymore?"

"Not necessarily," Nicolas said, his tone measured. "It wouldn’t have to be a traditional marriage. Think of it as a business arrangement. It’s a legal partnership—nothing more. And it could save your career, your life here."

You crossed your arms tightly, your mind racing. Marriage. It was a word that had haunted you ever since your parents had tried to force you into it as a teenager. Back then, it was their way of controlling you, of keeping you bound to a life you didn’t want. Now, it felt like the universe was throwing the same chains back at you, just in a different form.

"I’ve compiled a list of potential candidates," Arjun continued, sliding a piece of paper across the desk toward you. "People who might be open to an arrangement like this. Athletes, businesspeople—individuals who might benefit from a similar deal."

You glanced at the paper but didn’t pick it up. The names blurred in front of your eyes. This wasn’t how your life was supposed to go. You’d already lost your family, fought tooth and nail to get out of your country and build something for yourself in the U.S. And now you were at risk of losing everything—again.

"I don’t know if I can do this, Nico," you said quietly, shaking your head. "I’ve already sacrificed so much. My family… I gave up everything to be here. And now you’re telling me I have to give up even more?"

"I’m not telling you that you have to do anything," he replied, his voice calm but firm. "I’m saying this is an option. One that could keep you here, legally. But the decision is yours. I’m just laying out the possibilities."

You swallowed the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

"I can’t go back there," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. "I’ve worked too hard to get here. I can’t lose everything."

He nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time to consider unconventional options."

You finally picked up the paper, scanning the names but not really seeing them. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts. Marriage. It felt like a trap, just like it had back then. But maybe—just maybe—it was the only way to keep your future intact.

"I’ll think about it," you said, standing up and smoothing the front of your dress. "But I’m not making any promises."

"Of course," he said, standing as well. "Just let me know. We’re running out of time, but I’ll support whatever decision you make."

You nodded curtly, turning toward the door. As you stepped out into the cool city air, your chest tightened with the weight of everything you stood to lose. The lights of New York City flickered ahead of you, just out of reach, as though the life you’d built here could vanish at any moment.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt truly afraid.

Your phone buzzed, dragging you out of your spiraling thoughts. You fished it out of your purse, heart skipping a beat when you saw the name: Nina. Your agent.

With a shaky exhale, you answered. “Nina, hi.”

“Hey, babe!” Nina’s voice was all cheer, a stark contrast to the storm inside you. “So, I have amazing news! Guess who just got major campaign offers coming in? You! Chanel, Loewe, and oh my God, don’t even get me started on Louis Vuitton. The year starts beautifully for you!”

You should’ve felt ecstatic, but instead, the words passed over you like an echo. All you could think of was the countdown Nico had set in motion: three months. Three months before everything you’d built here would be taken away from you.

“That’s… amazing, Nina,” you managed, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Really amazing. Thank you so much.”

“Are you okay? You don’t sound like your sunshine-self.” Nina’s voice softened, concern creeping in. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause. Nina had been there through all your ups and downs, from your rookie days as a model to your rise in the industry. But the immigration issues, the fear of being sent back to a life you couldn’t return to—that was something neither of you could control.

“Three months?” she repeated, her voice going higher. “Oh my God—what the fuck? I thought… I thought you had more time.”

“So did I.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Nina, I don’t know what to do. I’ve called Nico and he tried everything—extensions, appeals—but the laws are tightening, and he said there’s only one real option left.”

There was a brief silence before she asked, “What option?”

You bit your lip. “Marriage. Nico says I could marry someone for a green card.”

“Marriage?” Nina’s voice came out in a shocked squeak. “Like a fake marriage? Babe, are you serious?”

“I don’t know!” you burst out, frustration and fear colliding. “I don’t know what to do! I can’t go back there. I can’t. My parents… My parents already wrote me off as dead, and if I go back, I’m stuck in a place I spent my entire life trying to escape.”

Her voice softened. “I know, honey, I know… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound—God, I can’t imagine how scary this is for you.”

You took a shaky breath, grateful for her understanding. Nina wasn’t just your manager—she was one of the few people who you actually close to. She was a 34 years old American-Filipina woman. You trusted her with your life.

“Okay,” Nina said, her voice more focused now. “Okay, now listen. We’ll figure this out. I know Nicolas wouldn’t suggest something like this unless it was a real option. Do you trust him?”

You sighed. “Yeah. I do. But the idea of marrying someone just to stay… it feels like another version of what my parents wanted for me. Like I’m back in that same time of my life.”

“I get it. But this isn’t like that. You’re in control this time,” Nina said. “If this is what you need to stay here, it’s not about love or being owned by someone.”

You nodded to yourself, trying to absorb her words. “Well, um, Nico gave me a list of potential candidates—people who might be willing to make an arrangement. You’ll never guess who’s on it, though.”

“Who? Shawn Mendes? Harry Styles? Tom Holland—”

“Rafe Cameron,” you said, cutting her off. “The basketball play—”

“Yeah, I know who that man is, Y/N. His reputation is a total mess right now. It’s not surprising for him to be on that list.”

“Exactly,” you muttered. “It’s a perfect business arrangement for him, too. He needs a way to look respectable again, and I need to stay in the country.”

“So, you’re actually considering this?”

You leaned against a streetlamp, staring at the city around you. “I don’t know. Maybe? It just feels wrong. Like I’m giving up a part of myself.”

“As nicely as this can be said, you are being dramatic here, babe.” Nina sighed softly. “Look, I’m not going to push you either way, okay? But I do think you need to look at it from a different angle. You’re not giving up on yourself. You’re doing what you need to do to stay here, to keep fighting for your career and your future. And Rafe—or whoever you’ll end up marrying—is not your parents. He’s not going to control you or he’ll get slapped.”

You closed your eyes, trying to let her words sink in. She was right—you were in control now. This wasn’t the same as being forced into a marriage you didn’t want. This was about survival. About keeping your life in the U.S. intact.

"Yeah… I guess you’re right," you said softly, feeling some of the tension release from your shoulders. "I just need time to think."

TWO WEEKS LATER.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting warm light across your living room. After two relentless weeks of back-to-back fashion shoots, campaign meetings, and gala appearances, you had finally found a moment of peace. You curled up on the plush sofa, sinking into its embrace as the hum of the city outside became a distant murmur. The oversized, loose pajamas you wore were a far cry from the designer gowns and couture you’d been draped in recently, but they were yours—soft, comforting, and familiar. Your hair was twisted into a lazy bun under a satin bonnet.

You exhaled a sigh of relief, finally feeling the weight of exhaustion slip from your shoulders as you closed your eyes.

Buzz. Buzz.

The sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table pulled you from the calm. You groaned softly, reaching for it with one hand, expecting to see another notification about a meeting or event. Instead, it was a message from Nicolas.

“Any thoughts on who you're going to marry? We need to move quickly if we want to ensure everything goes through in time.”

The familiar weight of the situation you’d been trying to avoid crept back into your chest. Two weeks had passed since your lawyer had first laid out the reality of your visa situation. In those weeks, you'd thrown yourself into work, hoping the constant flurry of activity would drown out the anxiety. But now, in the quiet of your home, the decision loomed large again.

You typed back, hesitating for a moment before hitting send.

"I haven’t decided yet."

A few seconds later, the reply came through.

"We need to discuss this in person. Can you come to my office today?"

You frowned, your eyes darting around the cozy room, not quite ready to leave your home.

"How about you come here instead?" you typed. "It’s been a long week, and I’d rather talk in private."

There was a pause before the three dots appeared, and then the message followed.

"Sure. I’ll be there in about an hour."

You put your phone down and leaned back against the cushions, staring at the ceiling. This wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have, but it was necessary. Time was running out, and you knew you had to face it—whether you wanted to or not.

An hour passed in a blur, and soon enough, you heard the knock at your door. You padded across the room in your socks, your oversized pajama pants swishing softly as you walked. Opening the door, you found Nicolas standing there, looking as composed as ever in his tailored suit.

“Come in,” you said with a smile, stepping aside to let him in.

Nicolas entered, his eyes scanning the room before they landed on you. "You look... relaxed."

You gave a soft chuckle, gesturing to your pajamas. “Don’t mock the pj’s until you’ve tried them.”

He smiled slightly, but there was a hint of emergency in his expression as he took a seat in the armchair across from you. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate lately, but we really need to make a decision.”

You nodded, sitting back down on the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. “I know… I’ve just been avoiding it.”

“And I noticed,” he said, pulling out a folder from his briefcase. “But with the visa expiration approaching, we don’t have much time. We need to find someone—someone who understands the situation and won’t make things harder.”

You bit your lip, holding a smile, glancing at the folder in his hands. “You bought the list?”

He nodded, and handed it over, and you flipped through the names, recognizing some immediately. Athletes, businessmen, even a couple of actors/singers. And then there was Rafe Cameron, his name standing out like a bold headline.

“I’ve looked at these,” you said quietly. “I just… I don’t know who to choose. None of ‘em feel right.”

Nico leaned forward. “It's not about right or wrong. It’s about who can offer the least amount of personal complications and help you secure your residency. Rafe Cameron, for instance—he’s someone who could benefit from this arrangement as much as you. His reputation needs mending, and this could be a mutually beneficial situation.”

You stared at Rafe’s name, the memories of seeing his name in the news about how much of a womanizer he was… Could you really tie yourself to someone like him in a fake marriage?

“Alright, but I need you to help me decide,” you admitted, looking up at him.

He nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course, that’s why I’m here. Let’s break it down together and figure out who makes the most sense, not just legally but for your peace of mind.”

Nicolas opened his briefcase again, pulling out more detailed files on the potential candidates. He laid them out neatly on the coffee table, each name with a stack of information—financial records, personal histories, public perceptions. It was all very businesslike.

You leaned forward, looking at the pages in front of you. Each one represented a major decision, a shift in your life you weren’t entirely ready to accept, but you knew you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Let’s start with the most practical options,” he said, sliding the file on Rafe Cameron toward you. “I know his name has come up before. He’s wealthy, influential, and… well, let’s be honest, he could use a boost to his public image right now. It’s a good match on paper.”

You stared at Rafe’s name again, tapping the edge of the file with your finger. “Yeah, but he’s also a bit of a mess, isn’t he? I mean, the media paints him as this… whore, and his personal life is always talked about. What if that blows back on me?”

Nicolas raised a brow. “That’s something to consider, but you also have to think of the benefits. His public image might not be very clean, but he’s powerful. Marrying him would put you in a stable position, and if it’s a business arrangement, his private affairs don’t have to concern you.”

You exhaled slowly, still feeling uneasy. Rafe Cameron was trouble, and you knew it. But at the same time, trouble might be exactly what could make this work—for both of you.

“What about the others?” you asked, flipping through the files. “There has to be someone who’s… less complicated.”

“Well,” he said, tapping another file. “there’s Owen Turner. He’s a succesful tech entrepeneur, keeps a low profile. No scandals, no messy reputation. He’s reliable, but you’ll have to approach this differently. He’s more private, less likely to want his personal life on display.”

“And boring—plus, he seems like the type of white guy to want a traditional wife. Like he would expect me to cook for him every night… and he has an ugly name.”

“Owen won’t be expecting home-cooked meals, Y/N. He’s a tech guy; he probably lives on energy drinks and instant ramen,” Nico pointed out, trying to steer you back to the serious topic. “But if we position it as a legal arrangement, he could see the value in it.”

You sighed, leaning back on the chair. “Okay, maybe Owen is the safer options. But can you imagine our wedding announcement? ‘Succesful Tech Entrepeneur Married Famous Model: They Share a Love for Cats and Instant Noodle.’”

Nico shook his head, trying not to smile. “Focus, please. This is a serious matter.”

“Right, right, sorry…” you said, wavering your hand dismissively. “But, what do you think about Rafe?”

“Rafe Cameron is the most straightforward option,” he said, his tone now more measured. “He’s already in the public eye, which means there won’t be as much of a shock if you’re suddenly married. Plus, his need for good press aligns with your need for stability.”

“And personally?”

He smiled softly, a rare gesture from him. “Personally, I think you should go with the person you think you can manage.”

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. Staring at the stack of papers in front of you, Rafe Cameron’s name glaring up at you from the top of the list. Every name on the list had its pros and cons, but something about Rafe’s file felt different. Maybe it was the intensity of his media coverage, the scandals, or the way he dominated the headlines for all the wrong reasons. But as much as you hesitated, his name kept pulling you back.

“I know his reputation isn't spotless,” Nico said, sensing your hesitation, “but in this situation, a clean reputation isn’t the priority. You need someone powerful, someone with enough influence to make this arrangement stick without getting tangled up in emotional complications.”

You nodded, again.”But I don’t know if I can handle all the baggage that comes with Rafe Cameron. His public image is a trainwreck. Wouldn’t that only complicate things more?”

Nico leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Possibly. But think of it this way: his personal life is already so chaotic that a stable, respectable marriage might be exactly what he needs to repair his image. And that’s where you come in. You’d be helping each other.”

Your eyes dropped back down to his file. "Do you think he'd even agree to something like this?"

Nico chuckled softly. “If there’s one thing I know about men like Rafe Cameron, it’s that they understand deals. His reputation is hanging by a thread, and a marriage to someone like you—someone with a pristine public image—could be the ticket to restoring his credibility. It’s a win-win, really.”

You considered Nico’s words. He was right. Rafe had everything to gain from a marriage of convenience, just like you. And while his scandals were messy, they didn’t define him entirely. He was still an elite athlete, one of the best in the game, and with the right PR strategy, you could both come out looking better.

But the thought of marrying someone like him—a notorious playboy with a history of messy breakups—made your stomach churn.

“You know,” Nico continued, “if this were just about your visa, we’d be having a different conversation. But this is about your entire future. Your career, your freedom to stay here, everything you’ve built. I’m not saying it’s an easy choice, but it’s one worth considering.”

You sighed, the weight of the decision pressing down on you. "What happens if it falls apart? What if things with Rafe go wrong?"

"That’s why we’ll draft a contract," Nico reassured you. "This won’t be a traditional marriage, Y/N. You’ll both have clear boundaries, and legally, we’ll protect your interests. If things go south, you’ll be covered."

You stared at the file a little longer, then closed your eyes.Rafe Cameron. He was cocky, possessive, and reckless—everything you usually avoided. But maybe that was the key. You wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to control you or make this anything more than a business transaction.

It would be messy. It would be complicated. But it would also keep you here, in the country you’d fought so hard to call home. And maybe, just maybe, it would be the solution you both needed.

“Okay,” you said softly, your decision finally settling. “I’ll do it.”

Nico’s eyebrows shot up, a little surprised at how quickly you’d made up your mind. “You’re sure?”

“No,” you admitted with a weak smile. “But I think this is the best option. I’ll marry Rafe Cameron.”

Nico nodded, closing the folder with a satisfied smile. “Good. I’ll set up a meeting with him. We’ll get the ball rolling.”

Oh God, you were going to marry Rafe Cameron…

chapter two

2K notes · View notes

nefastnefertiti · 5 months ago

Text

WHY CHAPTER 431 OF MY HERO ACADEMIA SCREAMS CENSORSHIP

First let's start by the "afterword", the note Horikoshi left after 430 and before the extras, chapter 431.

Original japanese for those who understand.

The best traslation I found and most people are agreeing with.

Key sentences are:

1.The real final chapter is 429, 430 is more like a curtain call.

2. PS: For chapter 431, I turn off the cameras and free the characters from their dramas.

This note being left after 430 and before the extras is so important. . The clarification of "the real final chapter is 429" and 430 is the curtain call is screaming: the show has ended here. This is further stated by "i turn the cameras off" by the man who use to refer himself as the camera man, I leave you with an example.

(They're talking about Vol 37 cover)

And back to point number 2: "and free the characters from their dramas", which could perfectly be understood as "the characters are no longer tied to their previous plots and drama" no longer connected to the main story.

It may seem like a reach until here, we're just trying to convince ourselves that's not canon, right? They´re delusions, right?

The problem is how far away everything about 431 antagonizes the whole story, the characters doesn't feel like themselves, they even regress back all their development, the drawing style looks totally different and there are many irregularities that call for our attention.

Dabi, 431 and by Horikoshi

Toga and Ochaco in 431:

Toga and Ochaco by Horikoshi:

All Might's signature for Katsuki (Horikoshi would never mess this up):

Kirishima with 6 fingers lol, Horikoshi loves drawing hands, he would never.

Katsuki's odd teeth what the fuck. (His hand looks good to me)

Ochaco and Shoto just look, weird. It's clearly not Horikoshi's art style.

And this awful background (center) was the main giveaway.

Horikoshi's backgrounds are so professional:

At this point I'm getting tired since the difference is astounding, don't believe me, just check the manga.

I don't think Horikoshi would've allowed those mistakes had he have a role in the making, maybe he did, there's no saying about that, but clearly if he did his involvement was very low.

Character's development wise now.

Seriously? "Deku"? And Katsuki complaining for picking him up. He cried his eyes out when Izuku lost his quirk and now he's back at season 1?

Izuku would never in a million years turn down that offer. And if he did, it would never be like this, so devoid of emotion and empathy.

430 showed us an Izuku aiming for his dreams again and at 431 this Izuku ¿? It's okay with being a teacher? Ok. And if that's not the problem, why he outright rejects Katsuki out of nowhere? When their rivalry was one of the main points of the plots for 430 chapters and now just um over? Without justification? Ok.

Ok.

Now specifically about that ship canonization and bkdk.

Horikoshi has been doing this for 10 years. The choices he took the whole manga were incredibly intentional, all those romantic tropes given to bkdk, his interviews, all stand in direct opposition to what happened in this last chapter.

I, myself, don't know much about Jump but what I've heard is they end lot of shonens with the same heterosexual formula. I don't think all of this is a coincidence.

Something really important that needs to be adressed to is what happened back in June (I think), when suddenly MHA announced it was ending in 5 chapters could've something to do with this. The manga was suddenly rushed to its ends with unsatisfying resolutions and as if that was not enough, one month later (at most) the same happened to JJK and all of this came accompanied by a switch of one of the heads of Jump.

About 431 again though.

I was just thinking what would I do if I was pressured to write something that ruins the biggest project of my life and goes against everything I was hoping for? Refuse. Tell them to write it themselves. If I can't do anything to stop it and it'll be there, alright, but I WON'T DO IT.

And I think this could be Horikoshi's case.

I've never seen a shonen manga come so close to implying his male protagonist and his male deuteragonist are in love before. Yes, it was not EXPLICIT but it was so fucking clear if you knew how to read, all the way up to 430. All those cliches tropes he gave them, he knew, we know.

I thought I'll die trying to explaineverything that seems wrong with this with nothing to back me up but the fact that he added that note is clear for me. I'm surprised they allowed him to publish it, I thought we wouldn't even have that.

PS:

It's interesting this being posted the same day 431 comes out. Also "heroaca is pretty dark, huh?"

I'll not go into this anyways because it's kind of a reach but the conclusion is: I think it's a "soft" censorship and Horikoshi did his best to relay his message given what he had.

Thanks for reading!

#bnha #deku #izuku midoriya #mha #mha 430 #bakudeku #katsudeku #bkdk #mha 431 #mha extras #bakugou kastuki #bakugou #kacchan #katsuki #dkbk

847 notes · View notes

thesparkling-diamond27 · 5 months ago

Text

Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

#wicked #fiyero tigelaar #fiyero tigelaar x reader #galinda upland #wicked galinda #wicked fiyero #wicked film #winkie prince #ozdust ballroom #dancing through life

513 notes · View notes

zorostitties · 10 days ago

Text

Intertwined; 2

⤕ Luffy and you were like two sides of the same coin: opposites in every way, but similar in what mattered the most. Tied by a vow made with the purity of a child's heart, life keeps trying to tear you apart - but the vow that intertwined your destinies would not be broken so easily. Or, Luffy promised to marry you someday when you were kids. This is how he keeps his promise.

pairing: monkey d. luffy x (f) reader

genre: childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, arranged marriage, fluff, angst, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, toxic family relationships, death/grief, when i say slow burn i mean it

rating: 18+

word count: 7k

A/N: HELLO YALL 💋 I can't stress enough how excited I am about this fic - and it's only beginning. Thank everyone that left comments on the first chapter!! I still have to make a proper playlist for this fic BUT a little song rec - I listened to Stay With Me from Miki Matsubara while writing this chapter!! kinda cliche but it makes me feel nostalgic and those are the correct vibes for this one. 🤓 Enjoy <3

⤕ Masterlist ⤕ Also on AO3 ⤕ Taglist open!

➛ 9

One year, zero failures.

Twenty five commissions. Millions of berries in profit to the Scarpia safes.

And finally – five days of freedom.

In the Scarpia family, you couldn’t ask for things. You negotiated. Everything was transactional; that was the soul of the business. To get something, you must give something in return. Different things had different prices.

The cost of your little unsupervised vacation was absolute and obedient hard work. No more running away, no more slacking off, no complaining… instead, improving in every area that mattered to be a better assassin. You took commissions, excelled in training and tests, attended Landon’s classes without fail.

All so you could get what you wanted on your birthday.

It wasn’t an expensive request, but you knew that it costed much more than anything your brothers ever asked for – much more than Urso’s cannon that was exclusive to Marine warships, Saqr’s golden armor armor or Crowley’s actual warship with a full crew. Five days of being away, not being followed by anyone from the family, no questions asked? That was a lot. And so, the price to pay for that was high.

But you payed anyway. Payed splendidly. So your father had to honor the deal.

And finally, after a year, there you were climbing Mt. Colubo again.

You were excitedly making your way up the hill – running, to be honest. It wasn’t hard to remember the specific hill you agreed to meet; you had an awfully good memory for some reason. Your heart beat faster with each step in both excitement and worry. What if he forgot about you? What if he missed the date? You didn’t know where Luffy lived, so you wouldn’t know where to meet him – and it’d take days to scoop the area after him.

What if he simply didn’t care?

The thought made you nauseous.

Well, if he didn’t show up, you still had a mountain to explore and money to rent a room in the city–

The wind brought an unknown voice to your ears.

Your instincts jumped, took control of your body. You immediately hid behind a bush, crouching down, and waited.

“...tired of this!” A young male voice. A boy’s voice. “We’ve been waiting since morning! I swear, if you’re trying to prank me, I’ll kick you off that cliff...”

Then, another boy’s voice – and your eyes immediately widened. You knew that high pitched whine.

“It’s not a prank, Ace! I said I’d be waiting right here, I can’t leave!”

“Yeah, right. Waiting for your imaginary friend.”

“I’m not imagining anything!” An uneasy groan. “Though maybe I missed the date… has it really been a year? She is taking too long…”

“Tsk. I’m sick of this. I’m heading back…”

“No! Wait!”

You got up and sprinted up the hill.

“Luffy!” Your voice cracked a bit while screaming his name… still not used to screaming. One hand kept gripping the strap of the backpack while the other waved excitedly.

And there he was.

The stretchy boy hadn’t changed a thing. Same hair, same height, same scar under his left eye, a bandaid on a different place this time – his forehead –, same battered up straw hat that was still too big for his head, jeans shorts and a blue tank top…

And same grin, big big grin, that appeared as soon as he spotted you… except he was missing his front tooth now.

“Wolfie!” He yelled. Who the hell–? Oh, right. That’s the name I made up. “You came!”

You had almost reached them when Luffy decided to engulf you in a hug.

...You were also not used to hugs and sudden proximity. The part of you that had been sharpened like a blade had the instinct to crush his trachea with the side of your hand. No no no, these are my five days of vacation. No business thinking! You made the conscious effort to push that part away, to lock it in a dark vault inside of your brain, a vault with a very complicated password. No bloodthirst. No kill intent.

So you just hugged him back instead and giggled excitedly.

Luffy then stepped away and grinned mischievously at that other boy.

He stepped behind you and put both hands over your shoulders as if presenting you like an item. “See? You seeing this? Is this imaginary? Call me a liar again, come on! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, I dare you!”

You scanned each other in silence.

This guy was definitely a few years older than Luffy and you. His black wavy hair fell over his forehead, his tanned skin was peppered with freckles. Like Luffy, his brown eyes were so dark that they almost looked black. He wore shorts, an orange tank top, elbow pads, and held a steel pipe… what was that for?

He was much, much more judgmental than Luffy.

And apparently smarter, too.

Luffy walked to your side.

“This one’s my big brother Ace!” He presented.

You were immediately taken aback. Of course, you remembered how Luffy kept talking about someone called Ace. But you didn’t expect him to be a brother.

Just because your brothers are awful, doesn’t mean everybody’s are, too.

You managed to open a tight smile.

“My name’s Wolfie. Nice to meet you.”

Ace crossed his arms and measured you from head to toe – and you had to fight the urge to immediately despise him, because that look was familiar. Stop that. You don’t even know him yet. It’s your vacation! Time to have fun!

Luffy tapped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Ace here kept saying I made you up, can you believe that?”

Ace side eyed Luffy with a frown. “You can’t blame me. The whole story sounded suspicious.” He focused on you again and tilted his head to the side. “The hell are you from?”

He carefully analyzed your outfit and backpack. Your clothes weren’t exactly fancy: you wore the standard Scarpia children “uniform”, which was basically a white button shirt, a black pleated skirt and the black blazer with the red scorpion on it (you had quickly gotten rid of that family crest from your clothes, however). You brothers, much obviously, wore pants instead of the skirt, but other than that, it was all the same.

You would have picked something different if you weren’t in such a hurry to get to the Dawn Island as fast as possible. Luckily, the last commission was already at some insignificant island of the East Blue – you picked it on purpose -, but the travel still took a days time. You still had to wait until the clock hit midnight to hop on a ship and head to the island (you couldn’t risk making your way with Landon nearby).

But anyway – your whole appearance was very obviously of a foreigner. A well lived foreigner. You couldn’t lie to two locals that you were from High Town, and you had already told Luffy you lived far.

Luckily, you had everything planned.

“Loguetown,” you announced. Ace seemed a bit surprised for some reason.

Big fat lie, obviously.

You’d been to Loguetown once or twice. It wasn’t that interesting of a place despite the mystique around it. Regardless, it was still a pretty big city and an acceptable answer: far, but not too far. Not too suspicious.

Ace quirked one eyebrow up. “...That’s far. What brings you to Mt. Colubo of all places?”

You shrugged. “My father visits the Goa Kingdom once a year because of his business and I like to come along.”

“You like to climb a mountain on your own.”

“I like animals and insects. I catalog them.”

“She draws pretty well. I mean, not better than me, but–“

“The mountain with the giant dangerous animals.” Ace cut Luffy off without taking his eyes off you.

“Yeah, that’s why this place is interesting.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What’s the problem with that?”

“The problem is that this doesn’t make any sense.”

“What? You think a girl can’t take care of herself?”

“That’s not what I mean–“

“How are you alive? Luffy ate a Devil Fruit, so I get it, but how about you?”

Luffy looked between you and Ace like a ping pong ball coming and going.

And Ace looked very offended.

“What–?! I’m a hundred times stronger than Luffy!”

“Hey!”

“Don’t change the subject!” Ace once again ignored Luffy and pointed his finger at you. “I don’t know how a rich brat like you is even alive in here!”

You let an annoyed groan past your lips and tightened your fists. What an insufferable guy!

But then, you narrowed your eyes and refrained from arguing more. I didn’t come here to argue with anyone. I came here to play with Luffy.

A smug smirk grew on your lips. You held both straps of the backpack and took a small step back.

Then – you sprinted.

It made the wind howl, the trees sway. You had time to hear a satisfying gasp from both of them, but especially from the oh-so-annoying Ace.

In the blink of an eye, you were standing on the lower branch of a tree nearby.

“This is how.” You announced to a shocked Ace while smiling.

Luffy laughed.

He hopped excitedly and shook his arms. “I told you, see?! I told you, I told you!” The straw hat boy then looked at you with a defiant grin and fire in his eyes. “I said I’d be even faster this time!”

“Then prove it!” Now you were the one hopping excitedly. “You’re it!”

Luffy laughed and launched his weird stretched arm in your direction. You deflected him and jumped to another tree.

Ace stood there, still a bit shocked, and watched as you and Luffy chased each other through the trees. Both of you were noisy. Both of you disturbed the small animals like birds and squirrels, made branches shake violently, making a rain of leaves fall over his head. He heard a succession of tag! You’re it! before you said it one last time.

And then he spotted Luffy smiling devilishly at him like a gremlin.

“Are you just gonna stand there?!”

Ace took a step back and sent him a warning glare.

“Luffy, don’t you dare–”

Smack.

“You’re it!”

“I’m gonna kill you!”

Straw hat boy just laughed.

There were three kids disturbing the small fauna now.

“Have you ever eaten crocodile meat?” Luffy asked.

You shook your head. “Not that I remember.”

He smiled. “It’s soooo good. You’re gonna love it. Uh, now I’m hungry…”

“When are you not hungry, Luffy?” Ace side eyed you. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to hunt with us… since you’re soooooo good at everything.”

You shrugged.

Yes. It’s true that you decided to just stand near the river and watch them hunt the crocodile. Not because you couldn’t help them, but because it felt… wrong.

The crocodile was huge. Two times bigger than a cow, maybe. It was now wrapped in ropes as the two boys carried it above their heads towards their home. You’d never seen a crocodile this big, and that’s why you hesitated. Were there even that many crocodiles around?

“I feel bad for it.” You admitted quietly.

The two boys looked at you like you were insane.

“What? You don’t eat meat?!” Luffy seemed flabbergasted.

“I bet you don’t feel bad about cows or chickens,” Ace was much more defensive.

You just sighed and crossed your arms. “That’s not what I mean… whatever. Yes, I do eat meat.” You looked up at the huge animal for a few seconds. “Can I at least sketch it before you cook it?”

“Why would you wanna do that?”

“I already said that I catalog animals.”

“Weirdo.”

You wanted to punch Ace.

“Hey, hey, Wolfie, what’s your favorite food?” Luffy asked.

You held your chin and looked up. “Hmm… crab legs. I think.” Luffy hummed in response. “Or spicy noodles.” He hummed again. “Anything spicy, to be honest.”

It wasn’t without a reason. Your mother was a poison specialist. She made you and your brothers take small dosages of different types of poison not only to be able to recognize it, but to resist it. Turns out one of her poisons burned your taste buds and food became tasteless for months – until you ate a very very spicy pepper from Dressrosa and went oh, I can actually feel the taste of this. Your taste buds had healed, but your liking for spicy food stayed.

You weren’t going to tell them that, though.

“Never seen a girl that likes pepper,” Ace quirked his eyebrow up, clearly questioning you.

“You don’t know that many girls, do you?”

Ace blushed for some reason, but still looked annoyed. “Listen here, you brat–!”

He was interrupted by a growl.

You thought it was a savage animal nearby at first, but the sound was coming from too close…

It was Luffy’s rumbling belly.

“Ugh… I want to eat…” He tilted his head to the side as if he was suffering. “Crab legs… noodles… pepper…”

“You can’t take spicy food, Luffy,” Ace murmured.

“Yes, I can!”

They started arguing and you just watched in silence.

It was… interesting.

They bantered a lot. They punched each other and argued over silly things. Ace usually won most of the fights and arguments. However… you didn’t see genuine anger in his eyes not even once. You didn’t hear genuine insults meant to hurt. It was all silly, superficial – and they always got over it two minutes after it happened.

You wondered if that’s how siblings usually acted.

No. Don’t think of Urso or Crowley or Saqr… that’s not what you came here for.

So you looked ahead and spotted something, which caused you to stop on your tracks.

“Oh!” That caught their attention. “You guys have a tree house?”

It was well hidden in between the branches, but there was definitely a tree house some meters away at the top of an especially tall tree. The wooden structure looked a bit precarious and perhaps even abandoned, yet it immediately picked your interest.

“Did you guys build it?”

Luffy blinked and looked uneasy for some reason. “Huh…”

“It looks pretty cool!” An excited smile appeared on your lips. You gripped the straps of the backpack, ready to run. “I want to see it!”

“Wait, Wolfie–“ Luffy tried to warn you. Which was weird, because Luffy never tried to warn you about anything, so at that moment, you didn’t pay attention to him.

You were running towards the tree.

That’s when Ace yelled “No!”

The ground shook when he dropped the heavy crocodile. In the blink of an eye, Ace was towering in front of you, both of his arms extended to block your passage.

You froze on your tracks.

He… he looked angry.

“You’re not allowed to go there!”

His stance and his voice would’ve triggered normal you’s aggression. But that part of you was locked inside the vault – so all you did was widen your eyes at him.

“But it’s just a tree house,” you tried. That made him angrier for some reason.

“Do not get anywhere near that place!”

Luffy stepped closer, frowning. “Hey, Ace, you don’t need to get so angry–“

Ace turned his attention to him. “If you take her there, I will never talk to you again! Got it?!”

Luffy himself was surprised.

The oldest boy sent a last menacing gaze towards you before taking the crocodile on his own and marching ahead.

You just stood there, too shocked to say anything, for long seconds. Luffy sent you an apologetic look; it seems he didn’t know what to do, either.

...All older brothers are assholes, I guess.

Meeting Luffy’s “family” made you understand him (and Ace) much more.

Their house was deep inside the forest, in the middle of a large clearing. It was a big one-story house with a lookout, though it looked precarious. Many voices came from inside it.

The two boys announced that they had brought dinner. A couple of men wearing white turbans came from inside the house to check it. None of them seemed impressed that the kids killed a monster crocodile, which could only mean that wasn’t unusual. You stood there awkwardly for a while. No one seemed bothered by your presence.

That is, until a big ginger woman came out of the house.

Her hair was long and curly. She wore a white blouse, checkered green pants, a necklace made of red round beads and boots. She had two cigarettes (?) between her lips and the ferocious eyes that could only belong to a leader.

The woman immediately started scolding Luffy and Ace with why’d you take so long?! or which of you used all the sugar?! and your clothes are stinky, you better wash it before tomorrow! and you have to clean all the mess you made! and don’t you dare talk back like that, brat! and I will kick your ass if you don’t watch that tone! and then she finally laid her eyes on you.

She blinked.

You blinked.

“Hi.” You sent her a small wave. “My name is–

“LUFFY AND ACE KIDNAPPED A CITY GIRL!!”

It was like everyone finally noticed your presence at that moment.

The men gasped and gathered around you. The ginger woman fumed like a chimney – and suddenly everything became noisy noisy noisy, with everyone showing different levels of outrage.

“What a horrible thing to do-nii!” Said a short guy wearing a pink polka dotted overall who seemed to be already panicking.

“You guys really crossed the line this time!” Said another tall guy with a brown mustache and a weird wattle on the top of his head, looking at Ace and Luffy disapprovingly.

The woman grabbed the two buys by their collars and lifted them from the ground like they weighed nothing.

“You little psychopaths! This girl’s from High Town, ain’t she?! Why’d you bring her here?! You wanna get us all killed?!”

“What are you–“ Ace grunted, grabbing her wrist. “Talking about, crazy old woman?!”

“We didn’t kidnap anyone!” Luffy screamed. “She’s Wolfie and she’s my friend!”

“Friend?! Don’t make me laugh! Why would a little girl get into the woods like that–“

“Miss.”

She finally stopped to look down when you touched her arm softly.

“They’re not lying. I’m on vacation and came to visit Luffy.”

Silence.

She quirked her eyebrow at you with distrust.

“Where’re your parents?”

“In the city.”

“Where will you stay? It’s almost sundown, there’s not enough time to reach the city before night comes.”

You slipped the backpack to only one shoulder and shoved your hand inside the small pocket.

“I was wondering if I could stay here for two or three days…” You finally showed her what you were looking for – and earned a collective gasp. “...If you don’t mind, of course.”

A wad of cash.

She put the two boys down slowly.

The woman took it from your much smaller hand and removed the rubber band, counting the berries rapidly.

She then looked at you again – and for a moment, it looked like it’d take some more convincing–

But she grinned.

“Of course, darling!” She crouched down to come closer to your eye level – and all of sudden, the aggressiveness and distrust and even the wrinkle between her eyebrows were gone. She was all smiles and blushes and it was like flowers were floating around her head. Even her voice became sweet like honey. “Of course, why wouldn’t we take such a cutie in?! My name’s Dadan. We’ll take care of whatever you need!”

And then all the other grown men were smiling sweetly and blushing too, and the flowers multiplied. You heard I’ll prepare you a bedroom! and I’ll cook you a great dinner! and I can make you cute dresses– wait, why do you know how to make dresses?!

Such a drastic change.

Well. One thing you knew from the world of the adults is that there were just a few things money couldn’t buy.

Ace side eyed you with a frown. Luffy didn’t seem to mind and didn’t seem upset at Dadan despite what she just did.

“Hey, hey, Wolfie–“ He tapped your arm many times. “There are a loooot of beetles around here! And scorpions too! And–“

“Didn’t you said you wanted to draw the crocodile or whatever?” Ace interrupted with somewhat of a pout. “You better do it now before we skin it. I don’t wanna have dinner late because of you.” The older boy walked away with his hands inside the front pockets of his shorts.

“Right.” You nodded. Luffy’s shoulders dropped.

“You’re gonna sit down and draw now? That’s boring! I wanna play!”

“It won’t take that long this time,” you explained while searching for the sketchbook inside of your backpack. Luffy pouted.

You sat down on the grass and quickly started sketching the crocodile’s head from the side. You’d have to check on your Reptile Encyclopedia if this species was already cataloged… you hadn’t brought that book with you – it was way too heavy – and that’s why taking as many details as possible was necessary, so you could compare the drawing with the book images back home.

Meanwhile, everything was noisy behind you.

Luffy, Ace, Dadan, the other guys… they all made a lot of noise. A lot of insults and arguments… but a lot of laughter, too. All that noise wasn’t bothersome. In fact, it was much more comfortable than the mortifying silence that always hovered inside the Scarpia mansion.

You finished the sketch quickly and left everything aside to play with Luffy – and from there, time seemed to run. You played catch and played with a ball and played with a white dog that lived there. You rolled on the grass and jumped rope and played on a tire swing until it made Luffy feel nauseous. You raced too many times to keep count and taught Luffy each different species of bugs you saw inside the forest (though he didn’t remember anything a second after you finished speaking). And then suddenly your clothes were dirty and you were tired but you didn’t mind at all, because that tiredness didn’t hurt.

Finally it was time to have dinner – and the amount of food they cooked was a bit absurd, but everything smelled great. Everyone gathered to eat after bathing and changing clothes. Luffy was quite literally drooling.

“Let the guest eat first, brat!” Dadan reprimanded Luffy with a punch in his head when he tried to grab a piece of meat. You quickly filled your plate with rice, meat and a bit of salad before someone else could complain.

“That’s not fair,” Ace whined with a frown. “Why don’t we get this type of treatment? You never make this many side dishes.”

Dadan glared at him with fire in her eyes. “Because you’re not full of mone– I-I mean, because you’re not a cute, polite girl! Work on your manners first before you get special treatment!”

They started arguing.

You ate from your plate in peace. Luffy filled plate after plate after plate and for a moment you wondered if that giant crocodile was enough to satisfy him. There was a lot of noise, still. They talked loud. Yet, in your silence, you could still see that same thing from before. They argued and cussed at each other, but you couldn’t hear genuine anger or contempt or the will to hurt. Even Dadan who seemed the harshest of them all had that underlying care in her gaze, though you doubted Luffy or Ace could see it too.

Everything made your heart feel surprisingly at ease.

And made you feel something else too – but it was small and irritating, so you decided to brush it off.

“Hey, Ace, you’re losing to Luffy on something, huh?” That guy with a mustache – was his name Magura? – said at some point. He had a suspicious smile and light blush over his cheeks.

Both boys stopped eating for a second and went Huh?

Magura blinked prettily.

“Your younger brother got a girlfriend first than you. You better work on that!”

A room full of grown men giggled. Ace blushed furiously and started cussing.

You and Luffy looked at each other at the same time.

He blinked.

You blinked.

You both scowled like you’d eaten a very sour lemon.

“EEEW!!”

“Where are we going now?” You asked as soon as you stepped out of the house.

The morning smelled like dew, sap and damp soil. There were no clouds to cover the bluest sky you’d ever seen. Multiple birds chirped their melody, and you felt tempted to try to recognize the different species, but you wouldn’t have time.

Luffy had invited you to go somewhere.

“You said it was a party?”

The straw hat boy grinned. “Yeah! A birthday party for the Mayor! Makino throws a party for him every year. She bakes cake and a bunch of sweets!”

You followed him shortly, starting to feel a little excited. That was when you spotted Ace leaning on a tree nearby with his arms crossed. He looked… upset.

Luffy seemed to hesitate for a second.

“I’m going down to Foosha now, Ace!” He announced.

The other boy just shrugged in response.

That was… weird.

Luffy started to run, so you quickened your pace to catch up to him. His hat flew from his head and swayed with the wind while trapped by that thin rope around his neck. Soon, the house and the clearing were left behind.

“We can get to Foosha Village quicker using this trail,” Luffy explained. You nodded and kept silent for some moments while he yapped about cake flavors.

But your curiosity got the best of you.

“Luffy.”

“Hm?”

“Why isn’t Ace coming with us?” Luffy visibly stiffened. “Is he that angry at me?”

The straw hat boy coughed as if he had choked on something.

“He… huh… h-he’s not angry at you!”

“Why isn’t he coming, then?”

“Huh… hmmm…”

You watched very closely as sweat dripped down his forehead, his cheeks got flushed, his eyes very consciously averted from yours, a pout formed on his lips.

He almost looked constipated.

“H-He… he said he’s not a kid anymore to attend birthday parties!” Luffy looked extremely proud of himself for coming up with this answer. “Boring guy, isn’t he? Anyway, I bet you can’t get to that tree faster than me! Three-two-one-go!!”

He sprinted down the trail before you could get ready, making a cloud of dust on his way. You narrowed your eyes slowly.

That morning, you learned that Luffy was a terrible liar.

Foosha Village was about what you already expected – small with not much interesting going on. Not many houses, not many establishments, not that many people. The village port was small with only a few ships docked. The sea that surrounded Dawn Island was of a gorgeous blue, so calm that it could be mistaken by the waters of the Calm Belt.

Partys Bar faced this beautiful scenery.

Luffy stormed in unceremoniously and ran to the arms of a young woman of dark green hair – was that the Makino he talked about?

“Luffy!” She said sweetly while embracing him. “You came early!”

“The earlier we get, the more food we eat!” He giggled before leaning away.

Her eyes quickly found you. “And who is this little princess right here?”

Your cheeks got warm.

What did she just call me?!

“A friend of mine!” Luffy presented. “I brought her to eat cake!”

Makino chuckled. “Well, you two will have to wait, then. The cake’s still baking and I haven’t finished the decorations yet. Care to help me with this?”

You certainly didn’t care.

Makino brought an old box with decorations: ribbons, balloons, confetti and more. You sat on the bar stool and busied yourself with filling the balloons while her and Luffy glued the colorful tapes and little flags around the bar walls. His Devil Fruit ability came in handy in situations like this.

It was weird, this feeling you had. Unusual. The sound of the waves crashing not far from there. Trees swaying with the oceanic breeze. Chatter coming from the street. Luffy’s laughter and Makino’s sweet voice.

It was peaceful.

So peaceful that you felt your shoulders relaxing. For the first time, the “sonar” within you that kept constantly looking for potential danger was down. Yes, you knew that was wrong; it was against everything you’d ever learned. Never let your guard down.

But Landon wasn’t there. Nor your father or your mother. Crowley wasn’t hiding somewhere with a knife waiting for an opportunity to stab you. Saqr and his hound dogs weren’t anywhere near. Urso wouldn’t try to squeeze you to death… and you weren’t completing a commission, either.

You never thought you’d like to keep that part of you inside the vault, but turns out your life became pretty quiet when it happened.

Some kids entered the bar at some point. You couldn’t tell if Luffy already knew them, but they talked excitedly. Soon, they were outside on the street, playing.

You wondered for a second if you should join them, but Makino approached.

“That’s enough balloons, thank you.” She smiled softly. “Care to help me with something else?”

She guided you behind the counter into the kitchen. The place was filled with a delicious sweet smell of the cake baking inside the oven. Other than that, there were plenty of other snacks over the table at the center: some of them were obviously sweets, some looked deep fried.

“I couldn’t finish rolling the brigadeiros. The Mayor always asks for them,” she explained while walking towards the counter where a pan rested. “If I asked Luffy to come, he’d eat everything instead of helping.”

“He would.” You nodded and frowned slightly. “But… what’s a brigadeiro?”

Makino quirked an eyebrow. “You’re not from here, are you? If you don’t know what a brigadeiro is.”

Well. You couldn’t tell if you didn’t know what that was because you weren’t from the area of because you’d never been to a birthday party before – a normal one, at least. Maybe people ate this brigadeiro thing on the Grand Line, too. Who knows?

You repeated your lie, but decided to leave the Loguetown name behind. Perhaps Makino knew that it was also a common snack at that city, which would raise more questions.

After washing your hands, she proceeded to explain what to do.

“First, you have to coat your palms with butter so it slides easily… then, you take a bit of the chocolate dough from the pan with the spoon. It doesn’t need to be much. And then… you just roll it with your hands… until it becomes a little ball. This size is okay. See? Now you just dip it in the chocolate sprinkles and it’s done.”

It wasn’t a difficult task – and Makino was kind enough to let you eat some. After you picked up the pace, she let you do it on your own and went to take care of something else in the kitchen.

You couldn’t help but take glances at her from time to time.

Makino was delicate. The scarf wrapped around her hair matched with her long skirt; the thin pearl necklace also matched with her pearl earrings. She was agile in everything she did and sweet with her words. And that was also unusual.

Your mother – the only female reference you had – was the complete opposite of Makino. She was older, of course, but the differences didn’t stop there. Your mother was beautiful, too, and extremely elegant. But she was also cold. Distant. Black instead of colorful. Reprimands instead of compliments. Makino smelled of candy; Scilla Scarpia smelled of poison.

That made you feel a bit sad for some reason.

“What?” She asked at some point, and you realized you had been staring for some time. You stiffened.

“...Your earrings are very pretty, miss.”

Makino opened a wide smile and approached. “Do you want them?”

“W-What?”

“I have many earrings… these would look cute on you.” She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer. “Oh! How come you don’t have your ears pierced?”

You didn’t. You also weren’t used to wearing necklaces or bracelets or hair clips… nothing flashy or colorful. Your face was almost always hidden behind a white wolf mask anyway, so why worry about your appearance?

“I can pierce your ears later,” Makino offered. “But it hurts a little bit. Do you want it?”

At the same time… why not worry about your appearance?

A sudden smile and unexpected excitement bubbled within your chest. “Yes!”

The bar was packed a few hours later.

There were mostly kids. Conversation and laughter filled the air. Your ears stung a little bit, but you didn’t mind; you were too busy playing. Makino decided that it was time to congratulate the Mayor, so everyone gathered around a table to celebrate.

The Mayor himself – a short guy wearing a bucket hat, glasses and a colorful shirt – came to stand in front of the cake. After lighting the candles, they all clapped and sang happy birthday to you.

You looked around while everyone was too focused on the birthday man.

So many smiles. So much excitement and care. Little flags on the ceiling, colorful ribbons, balloons, a big Happy Birthday sign on the wall behind the Mayor. Everybody in that room knew him, all of them took their time to come to the bar and celebrate. Was he feeling appreciated? Was he happy and grateful?

His smile told you that he was.

Yesterday was your birthday, you remembered.

No one in the bar knew. Not even Luffy. You wouldn’t try to tell him and steal the moment. So, while you clapped and sang along, you silently pretended that it was all for you. It was silly and inappropriate, but you did it anyway. You pretended for a little over a minute that your birthday was filled with sweets and cakes and kids around your age to play with and music and laughter.

When the Mayor blew the candles, you silently wished it would be you in that place someday.

The moment was over soon. Slices of cake were distributed. Chocolate cake with strawberries. It tasted amazing. Makino had to stand near the cake to prevent Luffy from eating everything by himself.

The kids went out to play again. You followed, leaving this small moment of sorrow behind.

“Hurry up, you two. I don’t want to see you climbing up that mountain in the dark.” There were still a few hours left until sunset, but Makino was right. You had eaten more than what your stomach could take and tired your legs from running around so much.

Makino handed you a picnic basket: it had slices of cake, brigadeiros, coxinhas (which was something else you had never eaten before – a crispy fried snack in a teardrop shape filled with shredded chicken) and sandwiches. “These are for Ace and the others. I’m glad you’re here to carry it, because Luffy would end up eating everything on the way if I gave it to him.”

“Hey!”

She giggled and leaned down to hug Luffy. When Makino leaned away, she lowered her voice, but you could still hear very well when she said: “Tell Ace I’ll go see him tomorrow, okay?”

She then approached and hugged you. “Don’t forget to clean your ears with alcohol everyday.” Makino touched the pearl earrings softly and smiled. “You do look very cute with them!”

Your cheeks felt hot again. For whatever reason.

After waving your goodbyes, there you were making your way into the forest.

Luffy didn’t feel like running, which was a bit of a miracle. Even him could get tired… and you were thankful, because like that, he couldn’t run away from you.

You waited until you were out of the village to start.

“Luffy.”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t Ace come?”

He stiffened again.

“Y-You already asked that, didn’t you? And I already answered.”

“I don’t buy it. There must be another reason.” You approached him until your shoulders bumped. “Come ooooon. I won’t tell anyone.”

Luffy made that weird constipated face again and crossed his arms. “I… huh… I don’t know! I have no idea! Hah!”

“I’m great at keeping secrets! You can trust me!”

“Seriously, I don’t know anything!” But he was sweating again and avoiding your gaze so much that his eyeballs were almost rolling inside his skull, so it meant it was time to play dirty.

You shoved your hand inside the basket and put a coxinha in front of his face.

His eyes widened.

“I’ll give it to you if you tell me.”

Luffy gasped.

He froze, his fingers trembled, his mouth drooled. It looked like he was facing the biggest challenge of his life. The coxinha smelled amazing. It was still warm and shining golden in its crispy fried glory.

For a second, it looked like he was raising his hands to grab it – and you were ready to sing victory.

But Luffy tapped his foot on the ground and whipped his head to the side aggressively.

“No!”

It was your turn to gasp.

Was it so serious that Luffy couldn’t even be bribed with food to tell the truth? That was surprising.

Admitting defeat, you put the snack inside the basket again and went back to walking. “Okay, then.”

You heard Luffy whine behind you and the tap tap of his sandals fast approaching again. “But we could eat one of them, right? They would never know.”

“You can’t eat just one. You’ll want the whole thing.”

“Nooo, I’m serious!” He brought both hands close to his face in a praying position and looked at you with round, begging eyes. “Just one? Please? Please? Please?”

You hesitated before admitting defeat for the second time that day.

“Just one.” Luffy giggled excitedly. “Eat slowly ‘cause it’s really gonna be the only one!”

He took one. You took one.

You chewed in silence.

This coxinha was another secret you’d have to keep. Another lie.

Luffy was a terrible liar. It looked like he couldn’t lie to save his life. Meanwhile, lying to you was easy… it was part of the job – sometimes you’d have to go undercover, and to get info on a target, you’d have to lie your way in. You were also used to lying to avoid punishments. It wasn’t hard to come up with something on the spot. Believable lies, sometimes only twisting the truth a bit to get what you wanted.

You lied to everybody here. All of these kind people that had been nothing but honest to you. All of these people calling you by a name that wasn’t truly yours. Wolfie this, Wolfie that… but Wolfie didn’t exist.

No one should see your face. No one should know your name.

But would you ever be able to make a real friend behind this mask of lies?

You wanted Luffy to be a real friend.

So you swallowed and gathered some courage.

“Luffy.”

“Hmm?” His mouth was full.

“I have a secret to tell you.” He seemed mildly interested. “‘Wolfie’ is not my name.”

You gave him your real name quietly – almost as if there was a possibility of someone else hearing it nearby. You decided to leave your last name behind. That would be too risky.

Luffy repeated your name. You nodded. He quirked an eyebrow. “So what?”

“I’m not from Loguetown. I’m not even from the East Blue.”

Luffy narrowed his eyes slowly, finally fully interested. “And why’d you lie?”

You pressed your lips and debated for a second if this was the right thing to do… but Landon wasn’t here, or anyone from your family, and the only thing with ears nearby was a squirrel and a couple of birds.

So you continued.

“I’m an assassin.”

You held your breath and waited for Luffy’s reaction.

He could laugh at your face and say you were lying. He could scowl and run away in fear. He could push you down the hill and tell you to never get near his family again.

But Luffy did what you least expected.

...He didn’t react.

At all.

He just kept chewing the coxinha as if you told him what you’re having for dinner.

“Why are you an assassin?” He asked.

“It’s the family business.”

“So your parents are, too?”

“Yeah.”

“And why do they do that?”

“For the money.” You shrugged.

“Hmmm.” He finished eating and rested both hands behind his head. “That’s why you’re rich.”

“Yeah.”

Luffy then frowned as if remembering something.

“Wait. Why’d you feel bad for the crocodile, then?”

That was an interesting question. “...I like animals. They’re irrational. And cute.”

“You think a monster crocodile is cute?”

“Uh-Huh.”

“Weirdo.” He was pretty much imitating what Ace said earlier, but you didn’t mind. “So. Do you like to kill people?”

That was another interesting question. No one had ever asked you that. You hummed and held your chin.

“I don’t like it. But I don’t mind it either. It’s just... work.”

“Sounds pretty boring.”

Your shoulders dropped. “It is boring.”

“So that’s why you’re here?”

He caught things pretty quickly. You nodded, an annoyed knot appearing between your eyebrows. “They don’t let me play. They don’t let me do anything! It’s just work work work, it’s just you have to honor the family or whatever.” Your voice sounded more whiny and bitter at each word. “They never even asked me if I wanted to be part of the business. Not that they have ever asked my opinion on anything.”

Luffy hummed again – but there was something a bit strange about his voice now.

His hat had dropped a bit, casting a shadow over his eyes.

“...You’re like Sabo.” Luffy’s voice was… strangely quiet. You’d never seen him speaking quietly before.

You tilted your head.

“Who’s Sabo?”

“My brother.”

“Really?” Luffy had another brother? You didn’t hear anyone mention that name. “Where is he?”

Luffy dropped his arms from behind his head.

“He… he died.”

That took you by surprise.

“Oh.”

Silence.

You’re like Sabo, Luffy said.

For some reason, you remembered Ace’s aggressiveness towards you… how he didn’t want to let you in that old tree house...

And something clicked.

Did you remind Ace of this dead brother? Was he somehow jealous of your presence… as if you could perhaps assume that empty spot?

You scratched your head and frowned. That didn’t make any sense since, well, you had enough brothers and you hated all of them. Why’d you want to have any more brothers? That’s not what you came here for. Ace was a few years older than you, but if your suspicions were right, then he was nothing but delusional and childish.

Luffy made a strange noise, which brought your attention to him again.

You leaned to see his face under the hat.

“...You crying?”

“I’m not!”

But his face was wet with tears and his cheeks were flushed and he had the biggest pout and he rushed to clean his nose with the collar of his shirt. Oh no, he’s actually crying, even though he was clearly trying to hold it in. What do I do?!

You weren’t one to cry. You didn’t even remember the last time you did. Wait, have you ever cried at all? Have you ever seen anyone in the family cry? Huh… no, I don’t think so. Never felt anything deserving of shedding tears, I guess.

“Stop staring at me!”

“Sorry!” You leaned away and crossed your arms. “It’s just that this is, huh, unusual.”

Luffy sniffed and frowned. “What do you mean unusual?”

You scratched your own cheek awkwardly. “Well. If any of my brothers died, I’d throw a party to celebrate.”

Luffy stiffened for a second – and you worried that you had worsened the situation.

But then he laughed.

He sniffed again and cleaned his face with his forearm. The tears stopped! Great! “You really are a weirdo. Is your family that bad?”

You scowled instinctively. “I don’t even wanna talk about them.”

“I don’t wanna talk about them, either. They sound boring.” Luffy sniffed again and side eyed you with a small pout. “Don’t tell Ace you saw me crying. He’ll smack me.”

“Okay.” It was your turn to point at him. “Don’t tell Ace my secret or I’ll smack you.”

“Right. Wolfie.” He used a funny tone to say that name while grinning, and it immediately made you smile too. Luffy was kind of slow, but he got the message. That name was forbidden, even though you decided to share it with him anyway.

Luffy knew the real you now – and he didn’t care.

“Can I get another one–?”

“No!” You took the basket out of his reach before he could sneakily stretch his arm to grab it. “I was serious! Just one!”

“But–“

“No!”

You brought the basket close to your chest and sprinted up the trail without looking back. Luffy’s laugh and the tap tap tap of his sandals quickly followed.

At that moment, while running from Luffy and getting deeper into the forest, while feeling the delicious smell of the food inside the basket and sap and damp soil, while listening to his giggles and the ones that erupted from your own chest, you got to a conclusion.

One year, zero failures – twenty five successful commissions, uncountable classes, uncountable boring hours of painful training… it was a fair price to pay for the happiness you could experience at that mountain, at that island, at this god forsaken corner of the world. No golden armor or cannon or warship could compare to that.

No money could buy that.

You were willing to do whatever it took to always keep this small island of peace intact.

#luffy x reader #one piece x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece #op x reader #one piece luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x you #mugiwara no luffy

297 notes · View notes

lincolndjarin · 2 years ago

Text

Best Kept Secret ☆

A MANDALORIAN SERIES MASTERLIST

[ COMPLETED ]

✩ a bodyguard!din x princess!reader fic ✩

series summary :

Married off to a prince on a planet that you hate? New husband doesn't know you, and doesn't want to know you? New husband gifts you a personal Mandalorian body guard as a wedding present? Mandalorian is a wiseass who won't leave you alone? Lucky you.

18+ mdni

do you like kitschy, campy romance novels? if you're reading this, I hope so.

behind the scenes & chapter notes + other extras (spoilers) :

chapters 1-5

chapter 6-15

spotify playlists

Lysa & Elaine information

the bks screen adaption

bks q&a

bks what if's

reader is generally not described past being picked up a few times, and having hair long enough to be put up

✩ chapters containing smut!

chapter one : honeymoon (6.7k words)

[ Absurd.

That is the only word that comes to mind as you stare at yourself in the mirror. “His favorite color is blue.” ]

chapter two : silent treatment (7.4k words)

[ Something is wrong. You bolt up from the pile of blankets that you call a bed and your eyes dart around the closet as you furrow your brow trying to discern why you feel so much different. ]

✩ chapter three : the smitten paladin (4.6k words)

[ You’re starting to think the planet isn’t the reason you’re so hot all the time.

You had woken up this morning feeling a bit better than you thought you’d be, your stomach is full of butterflies but you're still standing and considering the night you had you’re gonna take that as a win. ]

chapter four : sarad'ika (6.8k words)

[ Sarad'ika.

You won’t forget it this time, you can’t. So you write it in your book, just under Mando’s favorite color you write the two little words that have been keeping you up at night. ]

✩ chapter five : lunar interlude : just a man (5.0k words)

[ Absurd.

It’s absurd how much the job pays. Din’s not even sure he should take it at this point because it’s too good to be true. ]

✩ chapter six : torment (5.1k words)

[ Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through.

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. ]

✩ chapter seven : just friends (3.1k words)

[ Maker it feels like it’s been an hour and you’re both just laying here. He was just inside of you; it shouldn't be so hard to find something to talk about at this point. ]

chapter eight : solar markets (5.3k words)

[ It’s nice to wake up excited again.

You wish you could say that it happened more often but hopefully it will from now on. It’s going to be your first time leaving the castle grounds since you got here. ]

✩ chapter nine : shuk'la rules (5.6k words)

[ You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. ]

✩ chapter ten : lunar interlude : briikase gote'tuur (4.1k words)

[ He’s grateful for the break from you, even if brief.

That’s not to say that he doesn’t enjoy every moment he gets to be in your presence but the more time he spends with you the harder it gets to remember that this isn’t real. ]

chapter eleven : he loves me not (4.6k words)

[ Something is wrong.

All day it’s been wrong.

He’s different. Distant. ]

chapter twelve : pretend (4.4k words )

[ Two days.

That’s what you’re willing to give yourself. Two days to get over it. One to get it all out of your system and one to pull yourself together. ]

chapter thirteen : lunar interlude : vercopa (3.5k words)

[ He did it.

He did exactly what he knew he needed to do.

So why does he feel worse than ever? ]

chapter fourteen : condemned (4.9k words)

[ You’re having trouble sleeping.

You have no problem falling asleep, it’s mostly staying asleep. There’s a million different things that consume your thoughts and everytime you drift into unconsciousness you find yourself jolting awake, barely able to stay asleep for more than an hour at a time. ]

chapter fifteen : two tea parties (5.4k words)

[ “What did you do to her?”

Her voice breaks through his sleepy haze as he sits up properly.

“Excuse me?” ]

chapter sixteen : absolution (4.6k words)

[ There’s a visceral sense of dread when you wake up, for several reasons.

The glaring obvious culprit of your discomfort would be the fact that today’s your husband's birthday. ]

chapter seventeen : the apostate’s cabin (3.5k words)

[ Just Din.

It’s sinking in as you walk in silence, holding his hand tightly as he pulls you towards his home. ]

chapter eighteen : portrait of a man (5.4k words)

[ It’s deliciously warm when you wake. You can feel his heartbeat and you can feel the soft traces of sunlight dancing along your back. You stretch in his arms slightly but freeze up as you feel him nuzzle his chin into your hair, planting a kiss against your hairline. ]

✩ chapter nineteen : reverence (7.3k words)

[ You really want to.

You couldn’t possibly want to more than you currently do.

It’s actually a bit mean. That he’s left you here in this state. ]

✩ chapter twenty : like real people do (8.4k words)

[ Mando and Din.

All you can think about right now is how there must be two of them.

You’re playing with his curls. ]

✩ chapter twenty one : te mirci't (9.0k words)

[ “It means I love you.”

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor. ]

✩ chapter twenty two : it’s you that i lie with (11.3k words)

[ Naboo has several trading ports.

You could get him on a cargo ship. That would be the most inconspicuous form of transport. It would help if he was willing to ditch his armor. ]

✩ chapter twenty three : lunar markets (15.0k words)

[ Sneaking out of the castle gets easier every time you do it.

It only takes a few minutes and you’re walking outside towards the forest trail, Din’s hand in yours, still giddy. ]

✩ chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur (7.8k words)

[ He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him. ]

✩ chapter twenty five : wedding bells (11.7k words)

[ Four days of Leo.

You were upset that Din was leaving you but you got over it rather quickly with the promise of his hasty return. ]

chapter twenty six : crucifixion (12.7k words)

[ “My room is too big.”

He bursts into genuine peals of laughter and you gently smack his arm.

“Don’t laugh, it’s a serious issue! My room is enormous.” ]

chapter twenty seven : the apostate (6.0k words)

[ Silence.

That’s all there is in his brain.

It’s hard enough as is for him to hear. It doesn’t help when he’s been beaten half to death. ]

✩ chapter twenty eight : a place for us (8.4k words)

[ You’d spent the better half of the day trying to get on top of him.

Every time you managed to get close he’d simply set you down on the nearest surface with a kiss on the cheek and go back to doing whatever he was working on. ]

chapter twenty nine : the best kept secret (epilogue) (6.1k words)

[ The morning sun is warm against your face, you bask in it, unmoving and only half awake until you feel a tiny hand slapping your cheek. The illusion of tranquility is immediately shattered as you softly laugh. ]

3K notes · View notes

reidingandwriting · 7 months ago

Text

Nice To Meet Ya! > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~1,900

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, it’s (the beginning of) a throuple over here

Warnings: Fem!reader (she pronouns used like. twice in the very end), to be expected amounts of cursing and vulgarity from Wade, lots of cursing in general tbh, maybe a little OOC Logan, still getting to learn how to write his character well (Deadpool and Wolverine gave me brain worms so I had to write this immediately after watching)

A/N: This may become a little bit of a series! I’m having so much fun writing them since I Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine so there will be a lot of solo & duo content with these two. This part is a little Wade focused but the next part is more Logan focused 🫶🏻

Next Chapter

You never in a million years imagined this would be your life. You were raised by busy parents, and you quickly became self sufficient. Independent. When you hit your teenage years, your parents… god knows where they went, to be honest. All you knew is you had a house to yourself, you didn’t have friends anymore, and as lonely as it was, you found a bit of comfort in the solitude. You worked as a bartender at this bar not too far from your house, and you were a crowd favorite. You always brought in the biggest tips and many of the patrons were protective over you.

Your longest regular was the merc with a mouth- Deadpool. Wade, as he introduced himself once, a faint whisper. The fabric of his mask rubbing against your cheek as he whispered the name in your ear. Wade Wilson.

He was... Loud, to say the least. You didn’t think he had an off switch. He insisted he did- but you’d have to go under his suit to find it, he teased you. He never stopped talking and there was no such thing as small talk with him; if you were talking to him, he was downright vulgar, and the quite frankly gross sense of humor was entertaining. He also flirted like it was his job. Much like the rest of his vocabulary, his flirting was pure filth that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. And god forbid any creep start talking to you.

“Hey, princess, sorry I’m late. Too busy blowing my load to the thought of you, then remembered, wait! I can come see your fine ass in person whenever I want. Wanna finish me off?” You could practically feel the smirk Wade was sending you. You gestured for him to lean in, waiting until he was leaned against the bar, chest hovering above the countertop as you leaned in.

“In your dreams, dick for brains.” Your lips brushed against where his were covered by his mask, and you smirked when you heard the sharp intake of breath. The gasp almost impossible to hear, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

“You, sweet thang? Always. Holy fucking shit, that was so hot.” You and Wade had quickly become friends, his personality meshing well with yours. After ‘baby knife’ had somehow found itself in the hand of some perv that had been borderline stalking you at work for weeks, you found a new part of his personality. His protectiveness. He was as chipper as ever, but with the manic energy of someone who could, and would, kill someone who mildly inconvenienced someone he cared for. Unhinged, barely holding onto his minimal self restraint to splatter the guy’s blood all over the wall. Wouldn’t want you to have a mess to clean up, he admitted once it was just the two of you.

He offered to walk you home once after he’d known you for a few weeks, and now it was habit. You loved the times you had with just him. He was the same old Wade, but more open about himself. More vulnerable. These walks were where you got to know Wade, and he got to know you. You had let him crash one night, not that long ago, when it was storming hard. He had already insisted on walking you home, storm be damned, and you repaid him with a home cooked meal, some trashy movie, and a night of conversation on your couch until you dozed off, your head lolling to the side and landing on his shoulder.

Hours later, you had woken up, now lying down and the comfortable weight of Wade’s hand in your hair from where your head rested on his thighs. By the time the sun rose, you were alone in your living room, the only trace Wade had been there being a sloppy drawing of the Deadpool mask and a heart he scribbled on the whiteboard of your fridge. You smiled at the doodle and left it up, it still being up there today.

You stood at your spot behind the bar a few weeks later when someone new walked into the building, and you tilted your head. Newcomers weren’t entirely unheard of, but they were pretty rare, especially on a weekday. You took in the man as he stood near the doorway; brown hair, and oh fuck, good beard. The leather jacket he wore did little to hide how muscular he was and you watched as he scanned the room. Body tense, as if looking for potential threats. Potential ways out if danger occurred. Not like anyone would mess with him, aura alone enough to scare off anyone within a ten foot radius, let alone the hard look in his eyes.

Still, he walked over to the bar and took a seat. You offered a gentle smile, watching for another second before speaking. “You seem like a whiskey fan.”

His hazel gaze shifted up to meet your eyes, and you felt as if he was staring right into your god damned soul. It was intimidating, it was hot, and you couldn’t decide whether you should look away or lean in and-

“Yeah. Whiskey’s nice.” He nodded his head towards a bottle behind you. You nodded and went to pour a glass as he spoke again. “You always try to guess orders?”

“Only the interesting ones. Or the pretty ones.” You winked before turning, smiling when you heard the slightest huff of amusement. “Haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You turned back around, setting the glass in front of him, propping up on your elbows as he drank. “Thanks.” He looked familiar but god, you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You made light conversation, most of the talking done by you, but you found that you didn’t mind. He listened, intently. Everything he did seemed to be intense, like it was his default. You were grateful for the slow night, getting to see a glimpse of the man behind the bulletproof walls he had clearly built around himself.

“You thirsty slut! Of course I’d find you here.” You heard Wade’s voice before you saw him, and an annoyed scowl took over the unknown man’s face.

“Thirsty slut? Thought that was your autobiography title,” you said and Wade gasped in mock offense.

“You know I don’t read! Mocking the illiterate, how dare you?” Wade hopped onto the counter, hip almost knocking the glass of whiskey over.

“I don’t get how you’re late to a place you wanted to go to.” The brunette man said, voice low and rough, and Wade waved a hand dismissively.

“So uptight, can you believe it? Need to pull the stick out of your ass, maybe put it in-“

“La la la la la, not listening,” you sang, covering your ears, and Wade turned to you.

“You traitor! I leave you alone for five minutes and Wolvie has his claws in you.” Wolvie… Holy fuck, you were trying to flirt with the Wolverine. “And, Peanut, you know I’d never be late on purpose. Except I really needed to piss, then I got distracted by this really cute dog outside and I ended up totally abandoning my favorite dog.” Wade reached out to pat him, and you watched as a sliver of claws extended from his hands. A warning that didn’t seem to deter Wade much, but he did put his hand down. “Well, might as well introduce you.” Wade told you his name was Logan, and Wade told Logan your name in return.

You and Wade continued to talk, Logan yet again preferring to listen rather than join the conversation. Wade told the story of how he met Logan, how together the two of them essentially saved the world, and how the two of them were now roommates. Begrudgingly, according to Logan, but Wade seemed thrilled about his ‘roomie’.

It was hours later when the three of you left the bar. Wade insisted on walking you home, taking your hand in his and skipping down the street with you. Logan was a few paces behind you, his presence a comforting sense behind you. Where Wade was loud, in your face, Logan seemed to be the quiet lurker type. He’d hide in the shadows, making himself known when he felt threatened. You walked up to your front door, unlocking the door and Wade helped himself inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to Logan, who lingered on your doorstep.

“If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome. At least one of you has manners,” you called towards where Wade stood in your kitchen and cackled. Logan nodded, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as he walked inside, his shoulder brushing against yours gently. You shut the door behind you and Wade opened your fridge.

“Aww, pookie, you kept my drawing!” There was a hint of an unfamiliar emotion in his voice… something, something new. You couldn’t place it, yet you smiled anyways.

“Of course I did, Wade.” Now that you were in the safety of your house, Wade’s mask had been discarded on your kitchen counter and you could see the smile on his face. “Get out of my fridge, you leech.“

“I’m starving,” Wade whined and you turned to look at Logan. He stood a little awkwardly, and you gestured to the couch, taking a seat and smiling when he followed suit. He sat on the cushion furthest from you, but you didn’t question it.

Logan couldn’t help but study you. There was an obvious familiarity between you and Wade, you matching his wit and comebacks, but you were different when you spoke to him. You were quieter, more reigned in. Strangely not out of fear, but as if you were trying to make him comfortable. You switched between Wade and Logan like it was second nature, and the more he talked to you and the more he watched you and Wade, he felt himself begin to relax just a little.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Wade, ever the charmer, let out a dramatic yawn, throwing his hands up in the air as he stretched. “Well, cupcake. I think it’s about time we head home. Old man is already up way past his bedtime.” Wade yelped as he jumped back, barely missing the claws that protruded from Logan’s hand, and he stuck his tongue out at him. “Grumpy grandpa.”

You stood and Logan followed suit. Wade kissed your cheek before saying goodbye and stepping outside, leaving you and Logan alone.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Logan.” Your voice was gentle, your smile even more so, and Logan nodded.

“I’ll be around. Don’t think I have much of a choice with that one.” There was a sliver of fondness mixed with the exasperation in his voice, and Logan started to walk outside. “Goodnight, bub.” Logan closed the door behind him, lingering until he heard your locks click shut. He caught up with Wade a moment later and Wade gave him the biggest shit eating grin ever.

“Is someone melting the big bad wolf’s heart?” The metallic clang followed by Wade’s pained grunt made Logan laugh, and Wade shoved his shoulder.

“Wait until she sees what an asshole you are. Then she’ll realize I’m the better half of this friendship.” The two men continued to bicker the entire way home, both of them thinking about when they’d get to see you next.

424 notes · View notes

smartkookiee · 6 months ago

Text

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.3 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, fluff, 2000 rom com vibes, making out, flirting. drinking, swearing, crying, sweet pining Jungkook, Jungkooks past comes up (boooooo), ex situationship thingsss, its a sweet chapter and they make out and I love it, legit the easiest chapter I have written so far ❥word-count: 10.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Day 3

“And you really believe this guy is going to work for this?” Yoongi said, looking over your notes and layout of the entire plan you had.

“Absolutely sir.” You nod.

It was the Tuesday following you and Jungkook’s date. You two had gotten some dinner and then you went home. You tried not to let that text ruin your mood but it did bring you down for the meal. You and Jungkook just talked more about what you do and things you liked. Just easy conversation and sharing social media, small things that you could mask your disappointment with and give cheerful and in depth answers.

That text sucked to see. It sucked to see that he made this promise to be serious but he was just playing you. To be fair, you didn’t know him. It was your first date and he didn’t owe you anything. It would just make this easier.

"Already past the first date. You’re jumping in head first." Yoongi mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what’s next?"

"The plan is to keep things moving. I only have thirty days, so I wanted to start strong. The first date was just to break the ice. Now, I'm aiming to stay in touch throughout the weeks—get more involved and annoying to make sure I stay on his radar."

Yoongi chuckled. "And what does annoying entail in this case?"

You grinned, feeling a mischievous spark. "I was thinking some things like being a little too clingy. Getting a bit too personal too soon. Social media stalking, maybe even acting overly sensitive to anything he says about 'dating' or 'us.' Just... trying to inch my way into his daily life, so he can’t quite shake me off. Then next week I will take things to the next step."

Yoongi nodded in approval. "I like it. Thorough and unexpected, just what we want. Let’s round back around next week and check-in. We’ll go over your progress and adjust as needed. You’re off to a good start."

You gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, sir."

With a wave of his hand, “Now go write, be amazing.” Yoongi dismissed you, and you returned to your desk, your mind already spinning with ideas. You were ready to dive into this full force, but there was one small snag, a small but persistent worry. You’d sent Jungkook a quick text yesterday, just a light “good morning” and a note about enjoying the date, but there hadn’t been a reply yet.

It wasn’t a big deal but already not responding to a text after a whole day was not sitting well with you.

Settling yourself down into your chair, that small disappointment from seeing that text on Jungkook's phone was still nagging at you. Your friends had warned you not to get attached, to keep things light, but you’d ignored them. They called this from a million miles away and you, like an idiot, let your guard down like always.

Well, not this time. This was just a job. No more emotional slip-ups.

“Damn it, I’m a writer.” You mumbled under your breath. “This is just research. He’s just a random guy.”

With renewed determination, you opened your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as you drafted the first section of your article. Reliving the details of your first date, you kept it light and short because this wasn’t about how the first date went great, it’ll be about everything that happens now. You had your plan ready for action.

You were finally hitting a flow, words forming exactly as you wanted, when you heard footsteps stop just outside your cubicle.

“Special delivery!” Ann, one of the front-desk clerks, appeared with a bright smile, holding a small bouquet. "Someone’s got an admirer!"

She set down a small bouquet of sunflowers. The choice of flower surprised you most of all, you loved sunflowers. They were tied together with a purple ribbon and card attached to the end. Opening it, “A little bit of sun for a rainy first date. Thank you for listening to my fish facts. JK.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Ann cooed, lingering a moment to admire the flowers. She shot you a wink before heading back to the front, and you tried to keep your reaction composed.

You couldn't help but feel that small spark of joy, despite yourself, as you read the card. The sunflowers, your favorite, were unexpected and so charming. Tied with a cute ribbon that added a touch of thoughtfulness. You’d never been given flowers by anyone other than your parents and that one college boyfriend. Yet here they were, sent to your office, just for you.

If this had been any other situation, you’d probably be blushing and grinning like an idiot, falling head over heels way too fast. But the reminder of what you knew—what he was likely doing, the kind of guy he really was—kept you grounded.

As you stared at the bouquet, lost in thought, the telltale squeak of a chair wheeling over caught your attention.

“Wow someone’s special.” Ronnie rolled right next to you. “Are those from who I think they are from?”

"Looks like it." You replied casually, flashing her the card. "Just… a little thank you gift."

Ronnie waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, just a thank you gift? The guy sent you your favorite flowers, after only one date. You sure you aren’t already planning your future house décor with him?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your laptop, brushing off the teasing. "Maybe," But the flicker of disappointment crept back in. "If he hadn't got that text on our date. Then maybe this would be a sweet gesture. There's no way I'm getting attached to someone who’s probably chatting up another girl at the same time."

Ronnie gave you a skeptical look. "You still haven’t told me what it said, just that you went from mildly hopeful to permanently sour about him. Especially after you begged me and Jin to let you pick another guy before the date even ended."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was… friendly , if you know what I mean."

“Oh, friendly friendly?” She echoed, her voice heavy with implication. She winced sympathetically. "I’m sorry."

You shook your head, swiveling to face her. "No, no. We’re not doing the whole pity party thing. No look at Y/N she got fooled by another asshole again. This is work. I knew what I was signing up for with this guy, and it’s why we chose him. I can handle it."

Ronnie raised her brows. "Yeah, sure. You sound totally fine."

“I am fine.” You insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s all part of the assignment, right? A totally detached, unbiased observation. Think of me as an objective researcher.”

“Okay Dr. Detachment. How are you going to respond to these?” Ronnie glanced down to the flowers and then back up to you.

You opened your mouth to answer but paused, glancing at the flowers. You already knew what you wanted to do, but still… you weren’t quite sure how to play it yet.

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was still buzzing from his own bold move. He and Hoseok were walking down the street on their lunch break, and Hoseok eyed him suspiciously. Jungkook filled him on the details with a little too much spring in his step, never a way Hoseok had ever seen Jungkook act after a date.

“So… the date went that well, huh?” Hoseok finally asked, giving Jungkook a smirk. “You’re practically skipping.”

“Hey, I am not. ” Jungkook grumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he filled Hoseok in on the date. It had gone smoother than he’d expected, and he couldn’t ignore that spark of excitement.

Jungkook had done a little social media stalking when he spent the day with his parents yesterday. You used a sunflower in your bio and in a lot of your posts, so he took a guess that they may have been your favorite flower. It did take him a little tracking down though, since sunflowers were going out of season.

Hoseok grinned, giving Jungkook an approving nod. “So… flowers and a corny note? You’re going for gold.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m hoping she liked it. She’s into romantic movies and such so I thought it would be a good gesture.” Plus it was a perfect opening note since sending flowers is another classic romantic movie troupe. “She should have gotten them by now.” He checked his phone yet again, his screen still frustratingly blank.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, “Does it bother you that she’s not immediately giving you all of her attention.”

Jungkook snorted, “No.” He paused but the silence between them hung a little too long for Hoseok to be convinced, “Okay maybe a little.”

Hoseok let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Wow. Didn’t know you were secretly a heartthrob under all that cool indifference. Who are you, and what did you do with Jungkook?"

“Shut up.” Jungkook muttered, fighting a smile as he looked away. “I’m just… giving this a real shot. Like I said I would.”

“And you’re stressing out over whether she liked your flowers or not.” Hoseok added, raising an eyebrow. “Must be a real first for you.”

Jungkook shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought I’d make an effort, alright? ” He glanced at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Why do I feel like the grand romantic gesture wasn’t entirely about the bet?” Hoseok chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s not because I’m actually dating her remember?” Jungkook replied, a little too quickly, then caught himself.

“You know,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “there’s no law that says you can’t text her first, right? Might even make you seem… interested.”

Jungkook scoffed, his gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I don’t want to look desperate.”

“Dude, come on. Desperate is sending $50 sunflowers in November.” Hoseok replied, laughing as Jungkook scowled.

Jungkook sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I just really enjoyed spending time with her. It’s different.”

“So shoot her a text, lover boy.” Hoseok urged, hit Jungkook lightly on the back of the head. “All the smooth moves in the world won’t matter if she doesn’t know you’re into her.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed just as Hoseok delivered his advice, catching him off guard. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen. His eyes lit up, and a grin broke across his face—so wide and giddy that it almost unnerved Hoseok.

“Speak of the devil.” Jungkook muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

Jungkook fumbles with his phone and steps off to the side to answer, “You’ve reached Sunflowers on the Go. How may I be of service?”

You hum on the other end of the line in amusement, “So it’s the strangest thing. I got this delivery of sunflowers here on my desk but I don’t remember placing an order.”

“Hmm, strange indeed.” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Turns out we only deliver to Composure magazine. No one else.”

What Jungkook wasn't aware of is you had him on speaker phone so Ronnie was also able to hear him. She brought her hand to her face at his cheesy responses. You also shook your head at absurdity.

“Oh, is that so?” You teased. “Well, there was a little card attached… signed by someone named ‘JK.’”

“Yep, that’s the guy. Don’t know him personally, but he seems pretty cool.” Jungkook said, leaning into the joke. Looking over at Hoseok who was drawing hearts in the air around Jungkook, Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone named ‘JK’. Guess I’ll just have to throw these away then.” You play with the ribbon in your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s mean!” He protested, laughing. You laughed as well at his protest.

“Okay but seriously how did you know these were my favorite?” You touch one of the petals, sunflowers were definitely out of season so he had to go to some work to find really fresh ones. “Or was it just a lucky guess?”

“I may or may not have noticed a pattern on your socials.” His tone was sheepish and you just shook your head.

“Ah, so you were stalking me.” You nod, you notice Ronnie roll on over back to her desk. Coming back with her phone in hand. She was typing frantically.

“Maybe a little bit.” Jungkook let a beat pass, “I guess more importantly do you like them?”

“They are very beautiful. Especially for this time of year.” You sigh, the gesture really was sweet. Might be fast for Jungkook to send flowers this early on but still sweet.

Jungkook let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had even been holding in, “I do have to confess something. I was hoping this would make an opening for me to invite you to dinner.” He shifted from side to side, “Well I would be making dinner.”

“Inviting me over? Wow, bold move. So soon.” You smile, Ronnie giving you a knowing look and you brushing her off. “Would I have to do anything?”

“I will take care of it all, I need to prove I can make a mean carbonara.” Hoseok gave Jungkook a look like he had no idea he had any cooking skill. “How about tonight?”

“I have plans tonight.” Which wasn’t a lie, you were going to work on some writing tonight. “How about Thursday?”

“Perfect. You’re gonna be impressed, I already know it.” Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip.

“I’m sure I will.”

With some goodbyes you both hung up the phone. You could suddenly feel your heart racing in your chest and you mentally scolded yourself. You needed to remember none of this was long term. Which Ronnie was taking the lead in reminding you about.

“For someone who claims to be totally normal about all of this, you sure are smitten.” She crossed her arms and eyebrow raised observing you, “He totally knew these would work on you.”

“I am totally normal about all of this. This is perfect, we are going on a second date and I get to start implementing my plan. Everything is on track.” You say but Ronnie is looking back to her phone, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to find his Instagram.” She continued typing, not looking back up to you.

“Oh he doesn’t have one.” You remembered from dinner on Sunday. It wasn’t abnormal for someone to not have one but Ronnie was surprised.

“Boo, how am I supposed to dig up dirt on him?” Ronnie slumped down into her chair. You had actually done a little digging of your own the evening before though.

“Pretty sure that’s my job and I already did. He has twitter but he doesn’t post often. He keeps a pretty low presence online so I wasn’t able to learn much that way.” You sigh, it was actually a little refreshing although it did leave you guessing. Makes it tough to be intrusive in the next steps of your plan. “By the way, can you cry on command?”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow at your request, “I don’t but I think we both know who might.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 5

Thursday arrived, you and Jungkook spent the entire day texting back and forth just talking about whatever came to your minds. You found any excuse to ask him any random question. Send him random things you genuinely thought were funny. He also had something funny to say back or respond with. So you just let that be it, just texting and talking as much as possible.

Jungkook had spent the night before doing a practice carbonara. Watching some guy on youtube walking him through the steps. It turned out pretty good but he knew he could make a better one tonight. He got really nice ingredients that hopefully would push it over the edge. He really wanted to make a good first impression with his cooking. He had no issue inviting you over so soon after knowing you, he felt really comfortable with you already.

He hoped it wasn’t too forward, but you didn’t seem to mind.

He had a bottle of mid tier white wine in his fridge and he also got a red one because he wasn’t sure what you would prefer. He also wasn't sure what would pair better with a carbonara. Jungkook dressed his table up all nice, it was nothing special but a candle classes it up a little bit. Classic romantic things. It felt somewhat awkward and made him cringe but also no one else was around to see his effort but you, and you would appreciate it.

Or at least he hoped you would.

He then heard a knock from his front door. He thought it was a little early for you to be here but he didn’t mind, he still was making the food and he could pour you a glass while you waited. He trotted to his door, a smile on his face as he swung the door open with some gusto, only to have his features fall.

“Channel?” Jungkook's face twisted into a confused but unamused expression, as she brushed past him into the apartment. “Please, come on in.” He said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Channel looked like she was dressed for a night out and not for a very cold November evening at that. She had her hair curled and bouncy like it usually was, and the highest heel she could comfortably wear, clicking her way around Jungkook's apartment.

“I want my scarf back,” She had her arms crossed, strolling into the apartment with ease. She had been here enough times to know where everything was. “and since you won’t respond to my calls, here I am in person.”

“Okay, you couldn’t have texted me about this?” Jungkook let his front door close and followed after her through his apartment, as she tried to look under things and around furniture.

She laughed bitterly, “Last I checked, you’ve been avoiding my texts as well.” She continued her hunt around his space. Jungkook getting a little peeved since he spent a good amount of time trying to make his space look good for your arrival. Your arrival which would be really soon and this was not a good look for a guy as you clocked as ‘unserious’.

"I kind of have a life, you know? I can’t answer every text you send.” Jungkook kept his eyes peeled for the scarf, more than ready for this encounter to end.

“Yeah, right.” Channel’s voice dripped with disbelief as she followed him further into the apartment, her arms crossed. “I could tell Hoseok was covering for you.” She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of the dining table set for two, a soft candle flickering in the center. Her expression turned suspicious. “And… what is that ?”

Jungkook looked back to the table and then back to her, acting like it’s always looked like that. “Nothing, now where is that scarf?”

“Your place is so… spotless.” She murmured, her eyes scanning every corner of his living room, taking in the lit lamps, the neatly arranged coffee table, and the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. “Setting a mood , are we?”

“I mean, I clean often. I’m not a slob.” He replied defensively, trying to wave off her assumptions, though he could see she was putting it all together, one detail at a time.

Channel sniffs the air for a moment and then stalks over to the kitchen, “You’re cooking? You don’t cook.”

“Whenever he hung out, cooking really wasn’t a part of the schedule.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, aware that he was pushing her buttons. “I cook all the time.”

“Oh, I see.” She replied, her tone flat but her eyes flashing. She tilted her head, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. “So, who is she, then?”

Jungkook sighed, not fighting her anymore, “No one, and she is coming over soon, let’s find your scarf so you can leave.”

But Channel didn’t budge, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms tighter.

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not brushing this off like that. Nice napkins, a candle? You set a damn table , Jungkook. What is this, some kind of date?” Her voice grew sharper with each word, anger and betrayal clear in her expression.

“That’s not really your business is it?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, he needed to get her out of here.

Channel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not my business? You know what’s funny? All this time, I thought maybe we were building toward something real. And now, I see you’re doing that with someone else ?” She scoffed, her face hardening. “What, you just didn’t want this with me?”

Her words hung in the air, clear betrayal laced them. Him and Channel only had a sexual relationship, it’s what they agreed upon from the start. Sometime in there Channel developed some feelings for him and after a few months asked if they could take this more seriously. Jungkook wasn’t ready for that kind of step so they ended it all together. So now this all looks really bad.

Except, he thought, it’s none of her business if he did change his mind. He never lied to her, and he was always very clear that he did not want a relationship. He really didn’t, and this thing with you, although a part of a bet, was something he was dipping his toes into.

“Channel, that’s not it.” Jungkook said, sighing. “I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

Channel’s face twisted in anger, her voice rising as she spat, “Oh, I get it.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking around his place with fresh resentment. “I bet you’ll dump her as soon as you’ve slept together a few more times. Because that’s what you do , Jungkook.”

He clenched his fists, frustrated but trying to stay calm. “You know, I’ve had enough of this.” He said quietly, finally spotting the scarf stuffed into a seat cushion. He pulled it out, tossing it to her.

She caught it and threw it around her neck with a sneer. “So what is it about her, huh? What makes her so ‘special’ that suddenly you’re willing to commit ?” She shot him a glare, stepping closer. “Maybe I should stick around and meet this one-of-a-kind woman. See what all the fuss is about.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her toward the door. “You’re leaving, now.”

She jerked away from his touch, folding her arms defiantly. “What? Is she going to be here soon?” Her eyes gleamed with spite. “You don’t want her to know what you’re really like?”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, gathering his patience. “No. I think she would be an adult and actually talk with me about it.” He replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “Whatever she finds out—that’s for me to tell her and her to decide. So, goodnight, Channel.”

She stared at him, anger simmering as she pulled open the door, glancing back with an icy glare. “Screw you, Jungkook.” With that, she stormed out, letting the door slam behind her.

At the same time she opened the door, you were stepping out of the elevator and onto Jungkook’s floor. You spotted a girl storming down the hallway after yelling inside a doorway, as she passed you muttering a quick “Excuse me” without a second glance. You had an uneasy feeling about her, especially as she walked away from the very apartment number Jungkook had given you. You double-checked, confirming the number on your phone with the one she had just exited, and the sinking feeling intensified.

“Jesus Jungkook. At least have some class and spread out your dates so we don’t bump into each other in the hall.” You whisper under your breath, but you still had to go through with this as if you didn’t immediately feel a sense of dread.

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. After all, you were here now, and nothing had technically happened to prove your suspicions. So you pushed them down, knocked on the door, and tried to keep your expression neutral, reminding yourself you were maybe a minute early—nothing too crazy.

The door opened after a brief pause, and Jungkook’s face shifted from guarded to bright relief when he saw you standing there. His lips curled into a wide, easy smile, like he was genuinely glad to see you. His hair was a little tousled, his shirt a snug, tucked into jeans that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. He looked relaxed, casually put together, which was somehow infuriatingly charming.

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice warm, stepping aside so you could enter. “Come on in.”

“Hi.” You replied, acting as if nothing felt off.

You stepped past him, letting your eyes flick around the apartment, taking in the details—the tidy coffee table, a low hum of music playing through the room. He had a nice living room set up around a TV on the wall, the dining setup with an actual candle in the center. He’d put thought into this, that much was obvious. You couldn’t deny it was sweet, even if it left you slightly off-balance, considering what you’d walked past in the hallway moments ago.

“Okay now looking at it, the candle maybe was a little cheesy.” Jungkook cringed at himself looking at the little set up. You shake your head and wave him off.

“No, I think it's adorable. You even got a scentless one so it doesn’t cover the smell of the food.” You take a seat at the table, “I’m prepared to be wow’d like you promised me.”

“I unfortunately got a little bit delayed so I am not quite done yet.” Jungkook was shuffling his way back into the kitchen, “But make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” You smile as he rounds his way back into his kitchen, he watches you get back up and walk around his living space. Almost like he was waiting for approval. Luckily Channel hadn’t trashed the place.

You took note of all of the little things he chose to have on display, some books, a few polaroid cameras and some polaroid's on the walls, as well as a record collection that was lined the side of the living room on some shelves. You thumbed through some of them to see what was available. Impressed with some of his picks, some similar to your own. His place wasn’t terribly big. Classic little bachelor pad. You had noticed he had chosen to keep what you could only assume was his bedroom door closed.

It was something Jungkook thought way too hard about, if he left it open was it like saying he wanted to sleep with you tonight? Would it be way too forward? Or was closing it just as weird? Was closing it like telling you that he didn’t really want you in his space? He went back and forth and then opted to close it to maybe say he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, although he wouldn’t mind if it did.

You on the other hand didn’t barely give it a thought other than noticing it. You picked up one of his polaroid cameras and brought it with you. You round your way back to his kitchen and stand off to the side watching him work. He was pretty zoned in on what he was doing, everything was really smelling great. You usually found it pretty hot if a guy could cook well.

Jungkook took an opportunity to try some of his work and you took a photo right at the moment he took a bite, his eyes widened right at the moment he realized he'd been caught.

The picture came out and you set it down to develop.

“I’m sure that will be super cute.” You laugh, setting down his camera as well. He laughs and you look over his shoulder to see how close he is to being done.

“Coming to inspect my work?” Jungkook glances to his side, seeing you peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was almost done cooking.

“Maybe.” You tease, “I’m a sucker for people who can cook. I’m just… okay at it.”

“Well,” Jungkook stops what he is doing and reaches for a drawer next to him pulling out a fork and twirling some of the noodles onto it. Then holding the fork out to you. “I’m ready for your final score.”

You paused. Debating if you should eat the food off the fork or if you should take the fork. Would it send the wrong message if you ate off it? Or was that exactly what he was doing? The fork wasn’t very close to your mouth but not crazy far. You decided to just take the fork from him and take the bite.

It ended up being really good carbonara.

“Oh my god.” You smile chewing, “It’s really fucking good. Ten out of ten.”

Jungkook did a small fist pump to himself, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth hiding a smile. “I’ll admit, I did a practice run yesterday and it was just okay but I’m glad this one is good.” Jungkook then took a bite of it himself with another fork. Jungkook upon tasting his own food smacking his own forehead and leaning back.

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction.

You glanced at the polaroid on the counter picking it up to see if it had developed yet, it wasn’t fully done but you could see mostly what the picture would look like. You showed it to Jungkook and he smiled, “Ten out of ten picture. Best one of me yet.”

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you absentmindedly put it in your pocket.

“I’ll admit I’m wowed, to be fair I’ve only had carbonara like one other time.” You lean against one of his kitchen counters watching him as he plates the pasta for the two of you.

“I’ll still take the high praise. Now, should we do a white or a red wine?”

“Hmm, a red works better with this I think.” You nod.

Jungkook tells you where you can find his bottle opener and some glasses. You managed to get the cork screw into the cork but seem to be lacking the ability to actually pull the cork out of the bottle. Jungkook finds some amusement in watching your struggle but you persist. You’ve opened plenty of wine bottles in the past, this shouldn’t be difficult.

“Having some trouble?” Jungkook watched you try and fail to pull the cork out a third time.

“Absolutely not. The cork and I are just having a disagreement.” You shake off your hand a few times and then get a better grip on the screw pulling upward as best you can. With some pathetic struggle, you really swear you can feel the cork moving. You let out a sigh as you let it go again.

“May I?”

“I swear I’m not that weak.” This honestly was just embarrassing at this point, so much so you have to face away from Jungkook at your next attempt.

You make one final grip on the corkscrew and twist and tug, finally the corkscrew and cork pop free. Not before your hand comes straight, hard and fast, into your own face.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook’s face changes as he sees you basically punch your own face. “Are you okay?”

You did dizzy yourself slightly but you set the bottle down. Feeling your face, hoping you hadn’t broken your nose although it certainly would be bruised or sore at least, “Okay maybe I should never open wine ever again.”

Your nose then began to pulse with pain, this definitely wasn’t a part of your plan for sure. You covered it with one of your hands but Jungkook pulled it away. “Here let me look at it.”

“Please tell me it’s not bleeding.” You groan, and Jungkook places his hands on both of your cheeks looking at it. You match his face and he looks genuinely concerned.

“Well, I’m not a doctor but you’re still pretty cute.” He then smiles and rubs one of his thumbs on your cheek. “That’s my professional assessment anyways.”

“Okay, but it still really hurts.” You say, letting your own hands rest on his wrists.

“Hey, it’s probably just a bit sore—no blood, no bruise.” He gently tilts your head from side to side in a silly, exaggerated inspection that makes you giggle.

It’s quiet between you both for a moment, Jungkook still holding your face. He just looks over your face for a moment, your nose was red but it was probably going to be okay. He had hurt his own nose a few times to know if it was broken.

Jungkook’s hands still on your cheeks, eyes meeting as he studies your face. It’s easy to get lost in the warmth of his gaze and how close he is. A little too easy. For a second, you find yourself softening, tempted by the thought of leaning in and just letting yourself enjoy this. But then, just in time, you snap back to reality, realizing you can use this little mishap to your advantage. This damage to your nose might have actually opened up a window for what you had been working yourself up too.

You pull your face away from Jungkook and shake your head, breathing in a heavy breath. Jungkook looked a little confused but then after a moment you were crying. You were crying?

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “I was just teasing you.”

You wave your hands in a frantic show, your voice cracking just a little. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just….” You let out a little sob. “I’m just so clumsy! And you made this beautiful dinner, and I’ve totally ruined it!”

Jungkook looks utterly bewildered now, glancing around as if the answer to your sudden breakdown might be hiding in his kitchen cabinets. “Really, I promise, you didn’t mess anything up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, almost nervously.

“Ugh, I can't believe this. I’m totally ruining the mood.” You wipe your tears away.

It was a good little performance. One that was planned.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

The evening before.

Day 04

“The art of crying on command.” Here you were again. Ronnie sitting next to you. Jin pacing back and forth with his notepad once again. Unfortunately for you, Jin was the person to have expertise on this subject being an acting teacher.

“Okay I already regret this.” You try to stand up but Ronnie pulls you back down onto Jin’s couch.

“This will help you!” Ronnie protested and leaned on you once you were settled back in. “This can be a part of your over dramatic persona you use.”

“Exactly! It gives you another tool in the toolbox for the charade you signed up for!” Jin pointed at you with his pen and waving it around.

“Fine, continue.” You wave for him to go on and Jin grins.

“Thank you! Now, there are three main techniques for crying on command.” he begins, pacing dramatically. “Some people can just… do it. They snap their fingers and—bam! Tears.” He snaps his fingers for effect. “Others need to go to a sad memory. Something personal and emotional, something that really tugs at the heartstrings. And then, of course, some people have to resort to…ahem, creative methods. Pepper in the sinuses, maybe a little poke to the eye…”

“Let’s please avoid self-injury.” You interrupt dryly, giving him a look.

“Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics and see if you’re a natural.” Jin says, jotting a note on his pad. “Close your eyes, focus, and let’s see if you can will the tears into existence.”

You sit up straight, trying your best to summon tears on command, forcing your eyes to feel…sad? Your face contorts into what you hope is a tearful expression, but as you blink, nothing happens. Your eyes are as dry as ever.

“Nothing?” Jin sighs and makes a dramatic strike-through on his notepad, looking deeply disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mutter. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jin strikes something out on his notepad and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “ Cannot cry on command. So let’s try a memory, or is there a movie scene you can’t think about because it gets you teared up?”

You sit and think, you have some sad memories from your childhood that you bring to the front of your mind. Reminiscing on them, although some things are sad or bittersweet, nothing tear jerking.

“Dry.” Ronnie leans over and looks closely in your eyes, so much so you have to shove her face away from you.

“Dry.” Jin repeats and writes on his notepad.

“Maybe try going to the dark place?” Ronnie snaps and looks at you. “You always get really teary eyed when you think about dying alone.”

“Okay rude.” You sigh, it wasn’t untrue. Whenever you came back from dates that were unsuccessful or you wasted your time on someone who just wanted something casual you found yourself going to, what you and Ronnie have deemed, the dark place. “I don’t like thinking about that.”

“It’s for science!” Ronnie cheers, throwing her arms up like it's supposed to make it more fun or something.

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch. “I don’t know if this is such a great idea, honestly. When I start spiraling about my love life, it’s not exactly…mild.” You look down, already feeling a little prick of sadness starting to stir.

Jin comes and squats in front of you, “Well then just go to the edge of it and don’t think about the whole picture. What about dying alone usually gets you crying?”

You think for a second, and finally, the words come out quietly. “I guess… I cry when I start thinking that maybe I won’t ever find someone who’s…just right for me.”

Ronnie lets out a soft “aww” and nudges you gently.

You let yourself feel it for a moment—the uncertainty, the nagging doubt that, maybe, you’ll keep hitting dead ends. And with that, you feel a familiar, bittersweet ache starting to well up.

Jin nods approvingly, seeing a slight glimmer in your eyes. “Excellent.” He says, jotting down, potential crying trigger identified.

The vulnerability hangs in the air, and you let yourself lean into it a little. Lately, it felt harder and harder to keep going on dates, to believe that love might work out someday. You always seemed to be either too much or not enough—loving too deeply, too slowly, too intensely. It left you feeling drained, to the point where dating felt less like romance and more like a chore.

But with Jungkook, for once, you’d felt...hopeful. Like there was someone who genuinely wanted to share a moment, who put effort into making sure you had a good time. As unintentional as it was, you’d started to feel a little spark, considering the circumstances of your forced meeting. But as soon as you’d started to believe it, you reminded yourself it was all part of the act. You couldn’t let yourself actually believe it. You got your hopes up again , and they were ripped out from under you… again .

So you had slowly felt as time went on, you were losing sight of finding the one.

Then without even realizing it, you had a few stray tears fall from your eyes.

“Boom!” Jin erupted and sprang to his feet, “We have tears!”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

You gripped onto that feeling you let it force a few more tears out of your eyes. Unfortunately you did not avoid the personal injury part of the tears. So this was going really well for you.

You take a shaky breath, letting a few more tears roll down, making sure the sniffle that follows sounds especially pitiful. “Maybe I should just go home.” You say, voice wavering. “This along with my day… it’s all just been too much. You probably think I’m completely insane.”

You manage to start walking toward the door. Jungkook then panics for a moment, how did we go from laughing at you injuring your nose to crying and saying you’re going home? He felt like he had jumped three steps or something. You start toward the front door but Jungkook stepped around you, stopping you.

“Wait what?” Jungkook looked confused, “How did we get here? I don’t want you to leave.”

You sniff even louder, adding just the right amount of snotty dramatics. “No, I should. You barely know me, and here I am—an emotional wreck in your kitchen. It’s… it’s too much.”

“And? You just hit yourself in the nose really hard. I would be a little embarrassed and want to leave too.” Jungkook places a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Besides, isn't the whole point of going on dates to get to know each other better?”

“I guess.” You wipe your face again, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to just… fall apart like this.”

Jungkook sighs a little relieved, that could have spiraled further. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Well it’s still early, I haven't had a chance to go full blown crazy yet.” Which gets a laugh out of both you and Jungkook.

“Well I can deal with that I think.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, the food is still good. Wine is still out and last I checked a bruised nose doesn’t stop you from eating.”

“Wait, is it actually bruising?” You reflexively go up to touch it, definitely tender to the touch and Jungkook chuckles a little.

“I’m teasing. It’s only a little red.” He takes your hand and pulls you back into his apartment, with a little reluctance from you. “Stay, at least for a little while. I’m not going to let you walk out of here feeling like this.”

You blink up at him, playing up a hint of uncertainty, but inside, you’re genuinely a little taken aback. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He tilts his head to the side trying to meet your eyes, that had been darting everywhere else out of real embarrassment. “Look, I don’t care if you cry, I’m the biggest cry baby I know!”

You manage a small, hesitant smile, as if he’s starting to get through to you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Jungkook scoffs, feigning insult. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. Those ‘lost puppy finds his way home’ commercials? I’m done. I’m over here pretending there’s dust in my eyes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe I believe you… just a little.”

“There we go!” He looks genuinely pleased, his expression softening as he sees you relax. “So, if I’m willing to admit my crybaby tendencies, it’s only fair you stick around for dinner, right?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of your answer.

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You say it with an air of nonchalance, trying to mask the small spark of mischief hidden behind your agreement. It earns you a relieved, borderline triumphant smile from Jungkook.

“Phew! You’re sparing me from a whole night of wondering if my cooking scared you off for good.” He grins, his dramatic sigh punctuating his relief.

“Oh, please.” You say, rolling your eyes, feeling the perfect opening for a light jab. “If anything, the food is what convinced me to stay.”

Jungkook then serves dinner for the both of you. You both fall into easy conversation as you eat, he really did do a great job with the food. He was very considerate of making sure you needed anything else or pouring more wine when you wanted it. As well as making you laugh at almost every single turn. You really do get it why he got girls to go home with him so easily, between this and your first date the amount of confidence and charm that exudes from him is palpable in the air.

Jungkook would never show it but his lack of practice with dating has actually made this date and your last the most nervous he has been in a while. Jungkook’s mind is racing, carefully cataloging every response you make, every laugh, every nod. He wants—needs—this to go well, not just because he’d prefer to win $300 rather than lose it, but because, in his gut, he actually likes seeing you here, across from him. He catches himself wondering if he’s oversharing when he starts a story, or if he’s going on too long when he recounts his last trip. When you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he relaxes a bit, but he still can’t quite shake that uncertainty.

You decided no more theatrics for the evening and let this play out naturally, how you would play out any other evening. Anything else would tip him off that maybe you were doing this on purpose.

After a while the two of you had moved into the living room, you had been flipping through his records again, you didn’t take a chance to look at them all earlier. He had a decent collection for sure so you got a good sense of the type of music he liked. You both had a few glasses of wine now and so the conversation had turned more and more flirtatious.

Noting the variety of music—jazz, a little classic rock, some alternative stuff. “You’ve got a good taste.” You say, glancing back at him. “This one,” you pull a record out with a slight smirk, “definitely says something about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, leaning on the side of his couch as he watches you move around his shelves. “And what exactly does it say?”

You tilt your head, pretending to give it serious thought. “That you’re trying really hard to be cool. Just edgy enough.”

He laughs, though you notice he flushes slightly, brushing off your joke with a casual shrug. “Hey, everyone needs a little mystery. Or at least…a halfway-decent record collection.”

“Is that what you’re hiding?” You tease. “A mysterious vinyl collection? Or is it just your immense amount of fish facts?”

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out.” The words slip out before he can stop them, and he immediately kicks himself. It feels too... eager, a bit too close to something genuine. But he manages to recover, putting on a self-assured smile. “Not everyone gets to see my hidden jazz albums.”

You laugh, setting the record back and looking at him with a raised brow. “Guess I’ll have to consider myself lucky, then.” Finding a spot back on the couch with him.

Jungkook shifted in his spot so his body was completely facing you now. With the alcohol having set in, his eyes were a little droopy and he was smiling but he looked boyish. He found the more he was learning about you the more he felt fine with telling you things about himself.

“You look tired.” You poke his forehead. “Maybe I really should go.”

“It’s barely even late.” Jungkook takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m not tired at all.”

“Your eyes tell a different story.” You laugh, leaning your head against the back of his couch.

“Well what else are they saying?” He smirks, finding any reason to get a compliment from you.

You stare at them for a minute, you were trying to come up with something clever. “Well if I am translating this right… I can’t handle my wine. ”

You laugh and Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Wow how did you know?”

“I have a thing for reading people.” You shrug. “What do mine say?”

He leans in really close looking between them. “Wow this guy is so hot and charming I really want to kiss him again .” Jungkook then gasps dramatically leaning away. “That’s scandalous, Y/N.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and get up from the couch trying to leave, Jungkook's hand pulling you back to standing in front of him. “You’re really full of yourself.”

“I’d like to think just a healthy amount.” He grins, Jungkook then places one of his hands on the back of your thigh. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver up your spine, but you do your best to keep your cool, not letting him see just how much his touch is affecting you.

You scoff with a half smile, “We’ll see about that.”

Jungkook's smile widens sitting forward on his couch, both of his hands finding their way to your hips. Tracing small circles with his thumbs, making it impossible for you to think. The way he looks at you—intense, unflinching, like he’s trying to figure you out—has you second-guessing your plans all over again, just for a second. This is what makes this hard, because the way he looks at you makes you believe every single word.

Many guys before have looked at you like this and you always fall for it, you always let yourself go for it.

It’s a little difficult to remember that right now though, your mind is clouded by the wine.

You glance down to his lap for a moment then back up to his eyes that haven’t left yours. “Can I?”

Jungkook just nods, allowing you to take your place on his lap. Lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Jungkook really was not intending for this night to go this way but he wasn’t complaining if it had. He would do whatever you wanted. His hands stayed planted on your hips as you found what felt comfortable.

“You’re pretty.” He says with a shine in his eyes, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum.

“You’re pretty too.” You lace your arms around his neck. Both of your faces are coming so close together now. Breathes intermingling for a moment, asking the same question. “You were right though.”

“About what?”

“I do want to kiss you again.” You catch the slight hitch in Jungkook's breath at your words, the way his fingers tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your heart races. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, searching your face as though he’s almost afraid this moment might slip away.

“I’m not one to protest.” Jungkook swallows for a moment, before you took no time to close the distance between you. Pressing your lips against his soft but certain. Jungkook immediately responds tilting his head to deepen it. One of Jungkook's hands sliding up your back to bring you closer to him. The moment makes you forget everything else, as you slide your tongue into his mouth.

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink into it, into the surprising tenderness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his kiss. You move your hands to cup his face, relishing in how warm you are now. You felt your whole entire body heat up, and small wetness in between your legs. Oh this was not good, you cannot sleep with him this soon.

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

He would know exactly where to touch you and exactly how to make you moan and you had very little issues with wanting to let him do that. It would be so worth it, it would be so good. Except it cannot go past this, for your sanity at least. You needed to cut this off somehow. His tongue in your mouth was making it incredibly difficult to be logical. You could feel him probably already getting a semi and you really could not stop thinking about grinding on him.

You needed to stop though. Because this is a great opportunity to drive in that wedge between the two of you. One more way to mess this situationship up, but not ruin it completely.

As you pull away from him, leaving his lap, you mutter, “Okay… Goodnight.” You force yourself to stand, feigning nonchalance as you gather your things, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn back around. Jungkook is left blinking at you, visibly caught off guard, his hands awkwardly suspended in the air where your hips just were. He clears his throat, collecting himself as he scrambles to follow you.

Clearing his throat. “Hey… um woah… was that not good or whatever?”

You pick up some of your stuff into your arm, “It was, it was good. It was great.”

Oh god it was great, he was a really good kisser and your whole body was screaming at you but you fought through.

Jungkook was confused by your answer and shook his head, as he continued to follow you, “Did… did I misread something? Because I was getting a vibe.”

You glance over your shoulder and manage to flash a casual smile. “No, you didn’t misread anything. I just… don’t usually sleep with someone on the second date. Kind of a rule.” You bite your lip, keeping the truth of it hidden.

“Oh.” Jungkook nods, a look of relief mixed with mild confusion crossing his face as he adjusts his shirt. “Right, totally. Cool cool cool. That’s more than okay and Makes sense, makes sense… you should have said something.”

“It’s a bit of a mood killer to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re not getting any,’ don’t you think?” You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

You gather your things, amused by his honesty, and start toward the door. Jungkook trails behind you, letting out a small puff of air as he stares at the floor. Then, after a beat, he glances up with a sly grin. “So… just out of pure curiosity, not trying to be weird or anything, but what date number are we talking about here? Fourth, fifth…?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, knowing full well he has no idea you’re just messing with him. “More than that.”

He frowns, looking genuinely curious now. “Sixth?”

“Nope.”

“Seventh?” He leans in closer, eyes narrowed like he’s reading the answer off your face.

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?”

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.”

Jungkook’s face barely changes, but you can see his jaw tighten just a little as he processes this. “Twelve… dates.” he repeats slowly, nodding as if he’s mentally mapping it out. “I mean, sure. That’s totally reasonable. Not a problem.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised at his lack of pushback.

"Yeah.” He shrugs, putting on a confident smile. “Guess I just have to plan ten more killer dates.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see them.” Jungkook then opens the front door for you.

“You're going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?” He watches you slowly step out the door with a wide grin on your face. He finds it cute and playful, he could tell you liked the chase.

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say in a sing song voice, giving him a flirtatious wave as you walk up the hallway to his elevator.

Before you could get too far Jungkook decided to leave with something. Trotting up the hallway so he could catch you, taking your wrist and stopping you. “One last thing.”

Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and then kisses you. It surprises you but you welcome him, its one of those kisses that is so passionate and it makes your knees want to buckle out from under you in response. He uses just a little bit of tongue to send a shiver through your whole body, his hand warm against your cheek as he continues to kiss you just long enough to make you lose track of the hallway, the elevator, and everything else.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are twinkling with that trademark cockiness, but there’s something softer underneath, something that makes your heart do an unwelcome little flip. He grins, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer before letting go. “Goodnight.”

He goes back into his apartment as you retreat to the elevator. As you ride down, you let out a shaky breath, trying to process what just happened, and trying even harder to remind yourself why you’re supposed to be making him miserable. But as your lips still tingle from his kiss, you’re the one who is being thrown off balance now. This was continuing to prove to be difficult.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 6

Jungkook is floating on air as he gets through his next work day. So much so Hoseok has taken notice of Jungkook's change in attitude. Really his whole attitude had been different all week. Not that he was particularly grumpy before or even usually in a bad mood, but he was just in a really good mood.

It was Friday night, and the familiar hum of the weekend buzzed in the air as Jimin and Taehyung once again convinced Jungkook and Hoseok to come out for a night of fun. Jungkook had been hesitant, his thoughts lingering on you. He’d been so busy lately, and while the dates had been great, there was something about tonight that made him want to see what plans you had before fully committing to the night out. But eventually, he decided he should just go—time with his friends, after all, was good too. Plus, there was that whole bet to think about, and he had a chance to subtly show Jimin and Taehyung how smoothly things were going with you.

When Jungkook and Hoseok arrived at the booth, they were greeted with their usual boisterous energy. Taehyung raised his glass, grinning widely. “Look who it is!” He said, motioning to the empty seats. As they sat down, the drinks flowed easily, and the conversation began to buzz.

However, Jimin and Taehyung had something else on their minds—Jungkook’s unusually good mood. While their conversation about random topics picked up, they were both trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in him.

“So,” Jimin leaned forward, his voice a bit more teasing than usual, “what’s going on with you tonight? You’ve been, like, way too chill. It’s freaking me out.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the sudden observation. “What do you mean?”

Jimin gestured at him with a mock-serious face, “You're usually the one trying to take the night to the next level . Trying to make things more interesting. Tonight, you're just sitting here, all calm, looking like you’re, I don’t know, at peace or something?”

Taehyung chuckled at the thought, leaning in with a grin. “Yeah, what happened to the Jungkook who was out here doing whatever it took to keep things fun and exciting? You usually make sure the whole night has a direction. Right now, you’re, like... engaged in our conversation about cyber-security. That’s... not you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but he could feel the pressure mounting. He knew his friends had caught on to something, but they didn’t know why he was acting different. “I’m just… having a good day.” His voice light and casual. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Hoseok snorted next to him and Jungkook gave him a side eye.

“You definitely would have gotten someone’s number by now but your eyes have been glued on us or on your phone this whole time.” Taehyung added on, which was usually true but Jungkook was glued to his phone. Hoping maybe he would see another text from you, secretly. Casually, in a totally normal way.

“So what gives?” Jimin pokes Jungkook in the arm.

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shrugged and took a sip of his drink.

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “It’s Y/N. The girl you set him up with for this stupid bet.”

“Oh.” It all clicked into place for the both of them but it was still weird, Jimin continues.“She totally see through your act yet?”

Jungkook was caught off guard, the question cutting deeper than he expected. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Actually,” He began, his voice softening, “No. We had a really nice date last night. There is nothing to see through, I’ve been completely genuine.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin raised a skeptical eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

Hoseok, who had been mostly observing, finally chimed in with a sigh. “He’s been in such a good mood about it all day, I’ve actually been avoiding him.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, nudging his arm. “So you were dodging me earlier?”

Hoseok shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry, man, I just couldn’t listen to you go on about Y/N again today.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing back at Jimin and Taehyung. “You guys are acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just… going well.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow, his tone a bit annoyed. “So, you’re hitting it off?”

Jungkook smirked, raising his glass. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

That earned a laugh from Jimin and Taehyung. “Yeah, right.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying,” Jungkook replied, his smirk widening, “is you two better get your wallets ready. In 24 days, you’re going to owe me big time.”

With a final grin, Jungkook set his glass down and excused himself, heading off to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok, lowering his voice. “Okay, is it actually going well, or is he just messing with us?”

Hoseok took a sip of his drink, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment before answering. “All I’ll say is… he sent flowers.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Flowers?” They exchanged looks of disbelief, struggling to picture Jungkook—who hadn’t done more than text after a night out for years—sending flowers.

“What kind?” Taehyung asked, still dubious. “If they were just roses, it might’ve been for show.”

Hoseok gave an exasperated look. “Sunflowers. They’re her favorite.”

Jimin blinked in disbelief, his jaw still halfway dropped as he processed Hoseok's words. “Sunflowers?” He repeated, as if the specific flower choice made it even more surreal. “You’re telling me Jungkook not only sent flowers but remembered her favorite kind?”

Hoseok nodded, his expression one of mild amusement. “It’s like he’s on some kind of mission. Didn’t even blink when he mentioned it either—used it as his way to get the second date they had this week.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I don’t know who this new Jungkook is, but he’s full of surprises. Sunflowers? That’s not just impressive; that’s borderline romantic.”

“Borderline?” Jimin laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He’s gone full-on romance novel, and for someone he’s been seeing for, what, a week? This has to be the longest he’s been interested in anyone, like, ever.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, chewing on his lip as he processed the surprising information. “Damn. This is serious.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a small smile, finding some pride in a changed Jungkook. “So he’s not wrong when he says you guys are going to owe him. He’s actually putting in the effort.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look, stunned but slightly impressed. Watching Jungkook send flowers, remember favorites, and put his best foot forward was new—and honestly? They both knew they might just end up eating their own words. Which made them think, was there a way for them to slow this down, make it come to a halt?

It wasn’t an insane amount of money for either of them to lose, but it was much more entertaining to see Jungkook lose. Was there something they could do to mess this up but in a non asshole way?

If they didn’t, Jungkook was going to win the bet, but it had already become much more than a bet at this point for him.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter

Taglist! : @vashimperial @httpjeonlicious @rinkud @vintagemoonsstuff @marimarvelfan @loomipee @leah-rose03 @irhdifartzamfyaa @tteokbokibyjk @thatbtssong @jungkooksmytype @baechugff @jk97bam @emplexia @jungkooknippleanddicksucker @parkinglot-nights @butnotmontana @goldentea10 @smwhrinthehaze @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @whoa-jo @minyoongi7016 @jeoncasino

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

380 notes · View notes

paulyenvol6 · 10 days ago

Text

The Bolter

I feel like I have to write a part three because I need more fluff and Joel scenes with the baby but I kind of escalated with this and wrote so much so I'm gonna put it in a new chapter. Enjoy :)

Part 1 Part 3

Contains: angst, anxiety, panic attacks, fluff, lots of tears, comfort, sweet Joel who's a little scared of opening up, reader has long hair, nicknames (honey, pumpkin)

Wordcount: 7,755

Masterlist

4 months later

"Let me at least help you with the box," Maria rolled her eyes but you stubbornly grabbed the edge to lift the object into the air.

"I got it."

"Oh y/n, you know that it's not good to lift heavy things in your state. C'mon just lemme…"

You frowned and gently pushed her arm away. "I said I got it."

"You're one stubborn thing," Maria said but defensively raised her hands in the air. Then she walked over to the table letting her gaze lazily wander over the maps and books laid out on the wooden surface.

"You know, Tommy and I went hunting yesterday… It was so cold, I think I sat by the fire for three hours afterwards. But it was nice. You know that I love spending time with Benjamin but every now and then I just enjoy a few hours just with Tommy."

You smiled and then wiped over your forehead with the back of your hand to remove the droplets of sweat that had formed there.

"That sounds good. But yeah, the weather is nasty at the moment."

Maria nodded slowly and then darted at you like she was uncertain whether to say her next words. But of course she did.

"Joel took Benjamin while we were gone."

The silence that followed her words was almost unbearable and you could have heard a needle drop on the floor. The soft expression on your face tensed, your jaw clenched and your fingertips prickled, but you refused to let anything show and so turned your back to your friend as you placed one item after another from the box on your kitchen shelf. To Maria that seemingly wasn't a sign clear enough to drop the topic yet because she continued.

"Joel has changed his nightstand. He built it with Tommy. And he has new curtains which are olive coloured and it's such a lovely contrast to the couch."

At first, you intended to just ignore her words and come up with a new subject, but when you heard Maria clear her throat again you abruptly turned around to glare at her.

"It's not necessary to update me about everything that's happening in his life, you know?"

She shrugged her shoulders, her nail scratching over the rough surface and her eyebrows lifted.

"I'm not. Just a few things that I heard through Tommy."

"His fuckin' curtains, Maria?" The addressed scoffed, her eyes wandering to you again.

"You know what's my take on all of this. I get that it's hard and I said this a million times already, but you have to talk to him. For the child's sake at least."

You forrowed your brow, a thudding ache in your temples.

"I can raise it on my own. I don't need Joel."

Maria sighed loudly, approaching you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

"I know you can. I'm not sayin' you need to get back together with him just 'cause you're pregnant. We're not living in the 60s anymore. But all I'm sayin' is that he has the right to know."

You refused to show her how deep her words cut and that she truly had hit a nerve. You had found a good friend in Maria but she didn't need to know everything.

"He made it clear what he thinks of children. Why tell him? Why bother him? He doesn't want children and so nothing's gonna change if I tell him."

Maria's hand on your shoulder tightened and you squirmed watching her through gloomy eyes.

"And what is your vision for the future?" she asked and you had to surpress a desperate exhale. "What if Joel's gonna see you outside and notice that you're pregnant? I don't even wanna start with what's gonna happen once you deliver the baby. You think you can hide it from him for the rest of your life?"

"Maria," you said, tears glistening in your eyes. It wasn't like you denied any of what she had already told you a million times, it was just that you couldn't deal with this right now.

Perhaps you should have moved on from him by now. Well, you hadn't. Your heart was in pieces, you rarely woke up without a headache, you just couldn't find any joy in life, and the effects of your pregnancy didn't help either.

"Please," you added and that was the moment your friend realised that this wasn't the right time to talk into your conscience.

She sighed and then pulled you towards her, her hand cradling your head just the way Joel always used to and you let out a long frustrated sob that Maria reacted to by securing her grip around you and soothingly caressing your back.

"Oh y/n, it's okay… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it..."

You granted yourself a short amount of self-pity before pulling back and rubbing over your eyes. The feeling of your eyes being all puffy and sore had become so familiar over the past few months that you didn't even notice it anymore, because you felt you were spending more time crying than not.

"Sorry," you apologised but Maria shook her head.

"It's okay. I'm sorry, I… I don't know, I guess I'm just tryin' to help you. But I don't think I am helping."

You chuckled bitterly but squeezed her arm. "You are. You are helping me by being here for me. I can't imagine how much worse all of this would be without you."

Your friend gave you a sad smile and then straightened her shoulders.

"I think I'm gonna leave now. Is that okay for you or do you need me?"

You pursed your lips, swallowing loudly because you felt that you actually wouldn't mind having her at your side every day for 24 hours but you couldn't be egoistic now. Maria had a family that needed her way more than you needed her so you forced a smile upon your mouth and slightly shook your head.

"No, it's fine. Maybe I'm gonna watch a movie. Or go for a walk."

You definitely wouldn't do either of these things. You hadn't been able to pull yourself together and go outside if there wasn't any need for it since the breakup and watching a movie only reminded you of Joel. You had caught yourself many times thinking about what he would have thought about specific scenes while watching a film and obviously it had only made you feel more miserable. So no, you had lied to Maria and would probably spend the rest of the time staring at a wall or sleeping or perhaps if you would feel unusually well today – although nothing hinted at that fact so far – read a book. But Maria seemingly didn't spot your lie and just nodded knowingly.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I think some fresh air would be good for you. Just call me if you need anything. I told you, Tommy is very understanding."

"Thank you, Maria. Seriously," you whispered and meant it.

She nodded again and then hugged you firmly, slightly swinging you to the side, the warmth of her hands wandering through the fabric of your hoodie and prickling on your skin. You almost would have sobbed again because anything that reminded you of Joel and your time together in the slightest way already caused you immense pain and right now you just missed feeling Joel's arms around you so much, you weren't even able to vocalise it.

Fortunately, you managed to hide how close you were to breaking down once again and lasted until the door was shut before letting the tears flow. It was an exhausting and tiring cycle at this point and you feared you actually weren't capable of making it stop. You woke up crying and went to bed crying and the worst part was, all it took was a book or a picture or even just a smell. You sometimes even felt ashamed about your behaviour especially when Maria saw you like that but what were you supposed to do?

One weekend a few weeks ago, you had changed your tactics because you felt you couldn't go on like this. It had caused a series of unplesant events which had lead to you swearing to never leave the house again if it wasn't absolutely necessary.

You called Maria one morning and asked her to go to the town centre and have breakfast with you. To say she had been surprised was an understatement. As soon as you had hung up, there had been a quivering, dangerous bubbling in your stomach, but you had ignored it and dragged yourself out of the house and to the café where Maria had reserved a table for two. But long story short, the morning had ended with your tears spilling in your coffee and all of the other guests giving you uncertain glances all throughout breakfast.

Not only had you completely embarrassed yourself and disturbed everyone else in the café, you had also come the realisation that Joel had surely learned about your dramatic scene as well. Jackson was a small town after all and dramatic outbursts like these usually reached the ears of even the most secluded citizens of the city.

After that you had given up just as quickly and spent the next days on your couch again and although you felt terrible about being so dramatic and not being able to move on, you didn't have the energy to force yourself to try and get out of the house. It was easier to sink into your cushions and cry thinking about Joel.

Was it helping you? You didn't know. You felt horrible most of the time but you had felt horrible in the café with Maria too and at least no one could watch your crying sessions in your living room so there it was. You preferred the quiet company of your blanket and hot tea over humiliating yourself in front of the whole town so it was an easy choice.

You slowly headed to the couch and rubbed over your swollen tummy a few times while sinking down on it. You were almost five months pregnant now and by now there was a prominent bulge and you caught yourself lovingly caressing it every now and then. Of course the baby was another reminder of Joel and there had been times when you had to cry over the fact that it had been him and you that had created the little child in your belly but the baby had also been a source of happiness to you during these hard times.

Watching your stomach grow, thinking about what it would feel like to hold it in your arms and imagining yourself strolling through the park with the child in a pram. You currently felt so miserable, you sometimes believed you would never be able to smile or laugh again, but you would have to. You had no choice. The baby was on its way and you would push through this horrible time for the baby's sake. Once it would be born you would care for two living creatures and while you were neglacting your welfare at the moment by rotting in your living room, you couldn't do the same thing to the baby. You had sworn to yourself to protect and shelter it so this was what you were going to do.

You slightly spread your legs getting in a comfortable position and then closed your eyes as you felt the quietness of the room make your head drowsy. It was quiet in here a lot these days. Your hand was still resting on your stomach, rubbing in soft circles because something about it never failed to comfort you although you sometimes involuntarily imagined that it was Joel's hand in the place of your own hand.

His large hand brushing over the swell of your tummy and his soft puppy eyes taking in each curve and line of your face while you sat on the couch for hours, the mere presence of each other enough for the two of you. His perfect fucking eyes… His curly soft hair…

Before you could even realise it you had drifted off to sleep and when you woke up an hour later the beautiful sun was gone, replaced by a shadow of clouds hanging over the town. You sighed and stretched your arms, a loud yawn escaping your throat. Then you looked at the clock and thoughtfully bit your lower lip. You weren't hungry for dinner yet, but you couldn't think of anything you were in the mood for. For a brief moment, just a flickering short thought, your mind wandered off to Joel again.

No. This wasn't helping.

You let out a dramatic whine, pressing a pillow on your face to muffle the cry and then hit with your fist against the armrest of the couch. Why did everything have to be so goddamn complicated all of the time? Why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

The bad mood hung over you all day long, even when you tried to read a few pages or play the piano, and finally you gave up and tucked yourself into bed at 8pm, your mind still wide awake.

The next day started equally unpromising and when you sat at your kitchen table watching your cereal with disgust and your stomach already rumbling although you hadn't taken a single spoon yet you figured that you had to do something. You would inevitably lose your mind if you kept going like this.

A sudden force took over you and the adrenaline shot throught your veins, making your nerves prickle and your heart pound in your chest. You pushed the bowl away from you to rise to your feet and let the invisible strength guide you towards the door. Whatever you were about to do, it was better than drowning in self-pity on your couch so you actively shut your mind off while your feet carried you to the wardrobe, your hands automatically reaching for your coat and then the door handle.

You were welcomed by sunlight which seemed to only encourage you and for the first time in weeks you felt something similar to hope. Your face was drawn with determination and pugnacity as you strolled through the streets and of course you involuntarily were headed towards a very specific building just a few houses further down the street.

Every confidance and energy magically left your body at the sight of the mailbox.

Joel Miller.

Just reading those two words did something to you and activated this longing in you that you so desperately had been trying to fight over the past weeks.

Joel Miller.

The words rang in your ear as if it was him who said them and suddenly you didn't feel strong at all. Suddenly you felt like you wouldn't even have the strength to walk back to your house anymore, your feet anchored in the alleyway beneath you and an invisible weight heavily pulling at your body.

Joel Miller.

You gulped and the sound seemed to echo in your head. This was so goddamn wrong. You couldn't sneak up on him like a pathetic weasel and show him that you after four months still weren't able to accept the fact that he had broken up with you. As if you hadn't embarrassed yourself enough already. But what was definitely even worse than confronting him was standing in his front garden like you were some kind of obsessive stalker who couldn't decide on whether to approach him or not so you chose to back out again.

Perhaps the option of talking to him would come up again, maybe solely for the purpose to somehow feel better, but you should think about it surrounded by your own four walls instead of right in front of his door. Yes, you would weigh it up and then if you decided to visit him you would come prepared and ready to see him after all those weeks.

"Y/n?"

You froze in the motion, your mind blank and your eyes springing open. Everything around you went silent. Perhaps you had only imagined the words in your head; it would be no surprise considering the emotional torture you currently went through. No wonder you were beginning to grow insane.

You hadn't heard the approaching footsteps and neither had you heard the loud breathing close to your ear but when you felt a hand on your shoulder you flinched and abruptly spinned around. You tasted copper on your tongue and your throat felt raw. Joel looked exactly the way he had when he had left you four months ago but in some way he seemed like a different human being.

"Y/n," he whispered or at least you believed it was what he had said because you didn't hear him but could only watch the movement of his lips.

Your view was shimmering and you swallowed hard to fight the dryness in your mouth. You had to say something, explain yourself and your awkward behaviour but it was hard to when there was this high-pitched ring in your ears. His lips moved again but this time you were incapable of figuring out what he had said and therefore you panicked. Tears stung in your eyes and your hands began to shake while you saw him scan your face through your blurry view. Your chest felt hollow and sweat broke across your shoulderblades, your fingers curling and uncurling like you were trying to grasp something.

In addition the cold air bit and nibbled at back of your neck, the wind like shards of ice against your sensitive skin. You cringed and felt your bottom lip tremble, your pupils nervously wandering between Joel's eyes when you felt his grip on your shoulder tighten.

"Let's get you inside. You're shivering."

You were so relieved about the fact that you had finally been able to comprehend him, that you didn't think about the expand of the content of his words until you stepped through his front door, the familiar scent of his home that reminded you of leather and sandlewood heavy in your nose. You sniffled, perhaps to enjoy the smell for a little bit longer and then let your glossy eyes wander over his living room, the comfortable couch you knew all too well, the armchair you had often sat in when the two of you were still getting to know each other and were too shy to sit close to each other and the floor lamp in the corner that radiated the most beautiful kind of yellow light.

You didn't know how long you were staring but when a hand gently pulled you to a chair you allowed it, your body fully trusting that Joel would guide you. He sat down across from you, his hands resting on the surface of the table as he watched you closely, your stressed state of mind not lost on him.

"Are you all right?" he demanded to know, his eyes twitching worriedly when you dropped your gaze to your hands folded in your lap.

You felt awful. NNot only had you probably unsettled and disturbed Joel with your unexpected appearance in his front garden, you were now in his living room, which brought back many memories, each of which hurt like a twisted knife stabbing you in the heart, and he was probably too polite to tell you to fuck off.

Perhaps he was just pitying you. Thinking of you as a helpless child that couldn't take care of herself and now he had to babysit you and make sure you wouldn't pull some other humiliating shit.

"M'sorry," you mumbled and hiccuped which made you press a hand on your mouth. "Sorry," you repeated before a hand reached for yours and grabbed it to squeeze it lightly.

"Don't," was all he said but you finally were brave enough to dart at him. "S'alright."

Silence. You had endured a lot of silence since Joel had broken up with you, but you didn't know if it was his presence or the fact that you had fallen in love with his cosy little living room as much as you had fallen in love with him, but either way, right now you didn't mind silence. No, you even needed it like air to calm your upset mind and the longer you sat quietly, the more you felt your heartbeat slow down and your brain starting to work normally again.

The minute of rest made it possible for you to take a deep breath and although Joel didn't take his eyes off you for a mere second, it was like the two of you had come to some kind of silent understanding and as if he could read your mind he gave you just the perfect amount of time before clearing his throat.

"Why are you here?" he asked and grabbed his coffee mug to toy with the handle.

Your pale face drew with fear because you hadn't been able to prepare youself for this question, let alone figure out why you were actually here. So instead of answering you brought your hand to the edge of the table, scratching over the wood with the nail of your thumb. Your hair fell over your shoulders making you feel more shielded from his piercing gaze and despite feeling ungrateful and horrible for ignoring his question you waited and waited. You didn't know what for, but maybe there would be some sign or some disruption or perhaps he would say something, maybe even tell you that he had missed you.

"Do you want some tea?" Joel suddenly asked and the sound of his voice made you twitch. It was so strange to hear his voice after weeks of missing it and imagining it in your head and now he was actually here sitting at the same table as you. And maybe he was just being polite or seeing it as some kind of charity work, but at least he hadn't left yet.

"Yes," you answered, your voice croaked and thin but his eyes seemed to brighten up a little, relieved to finally hear you speak for the first time.

"Okay. S'gonna take a minute, but I'm gonna hurry up."

He rose to his feet, his hand brushing over the backrest of his chair and when he headed to the kitchen door, an ache spread in your heart cutting off your air supply. Perhaps it was the memory of him leaving you all those nights ago but a fear gripped you and squeezed so hard you saw white for a brief moment. You wanted to scream for him not to go and beg him on your knees if need be but fortunately a little something in you remained sane and held you back before Joel would officially declare you as mentally ill.

But that didn't mean that you didn't do anything and watched him leave in silence. The burden on your heart was simply too heavy, the pain in your chest too sharp and the throbbing heat in your head too intense. Something was urgently punching you in the stomach, right between your ribs, as if to demand your attention and so you raised your voice and although it was high and weak, it made Joel stop before he could reach the doorstep.

"Joel."

He turned around, his brown eyes concerned but curious and the slight nod of his head encouraged you enough to say the following words. You didn't know where they came from and what made you actually express them, but you did and what followed felt like the passing of years and years of time.

"I'm pregnant."

The silence that haunted his living room was so thick and loud, it pressed down on your shoulders, pushing you deeper into the chair and your skin was prickling with the aftermath of your announcement. Now that the words were out you wondered what had driven you. Where the strength to make your tongue and lips form those words had come from. There had been countless occasions to tell Joel back when the two of you had been a couple but each time your body had refused to cooperate and now you had suddenly managed to do it. And although your body was tense with cold fear you felt relieved as well. Nothing was standing between him and you now and sure, it would be a lie to deny that Maria had been right. As the father he deserved to know about his own child no matter the context and no matter what he had revealed about his personal attitude towards children. It was only fair.

There was a crease between his brow but you couldn't figure out if it was caused by anger or overload or being moved or perhaps even felicity. You silently watched him giving him the time to process those two words that still seemed to linger in the air that was thick with tension. It had taken you a lot of time to understand what it would mean to have a child as well so you patiently observed your ex - boyfriend who now bit on his bottom lip and whose eyes seemed to be glistening with tears but it was hard to tell over the distance.

And then a muscle in his forehead twitched and the next thing you felt were his arms around you. Joel had approached you, stepping in front of you and leaning down to hold your head against his chest, your face pressed against his neck which gave you no choice but to inhale his perfect scent. It was so good, so beautiful that you were crying within seconds but this time it didn't matter because you were almost certain that it hadn't been you who had produced the quiet sniffling sound the now reached your ears.

He held you so firmly and tightly like he wanted to make sure if you were actually there or perhaps he was scared to lose you and you wished you had the ability to tell him that you wouldn't go away. How dearly would you have liked to whisper in his ear and express how much you loved him, how much you had missed him and how much you wished to never pull away from this hug.

To say that you had cried a lot over the past few months would be an understatement, and although you had hoped that it had helped you deal with your emotions at least a little, right now the crying part felt like letting it all out all over again. The pain, the hurt, the love, the frustration. Everything was slipping past your lips against Joel's broad chest and he caught it, his hand cradling your head letting you know that he was there to take away the sorrow and that you now didn't need to worry anymore.

"J-Joel," you whimpered just to do anything because the accumulated tension and emotions in you threatened to be too much. You needed to scream or squeeze something. Everything was a strange mixture of joy and happiness about finally getting to be so close to him again, sadness and despair about the past miserable weeks and fear that this wouldn't last. That he would draw back any second and leave you in the cold again, the warmth his body radiated fading any moment and his arms that held you so securely pulling away so you had to hold yourself up on your own again.

But nothing hinted at the fact that he would do so any time soon. His fingers were entangled in your hair holding you like you would collaps without him which probably wasn't far from the truth. He had stepped between your legs, his other hand on the small of your back to make sure every inch of your body was as close to him as possible. And then there was his breathy voice brushing over your ear like a promise. A promise not only to reassure you that he was here and that this was real, but that no matter what would happen, it wouldn't be like last time.

"Yes. I know," he said, gently rocking you at the sound of another broken cry. "I know… I'm right here, pumpkin."

"I don't want you to go," you sobbed, your hand pinching the hem of his shirt while your other rested next to your head against his chest.

"I'm not gonna leave you… Don't you worry…"

But then you felt his hand on your head loosen and you twitched in panic as he pulled away, your eyes round as coins and your hands instantly grabbing his chequered shirt to prevent him from leaving you.

"S'alright," he cooed and took your face into both of his big hands. "Just wanna take a look at ya."

Your chin trembled and your pupils avoided him, but his eyes were on you and so were his thumbs that gently caressed your wet cheeks like you were something fragile that he couldn't believe he got to hold in his hands.

"Joel…," you mumbled again, your fingers tightly closing around his wrists and your eyes pleadingly looking up to him under your lashes.

"Yes, pumpkin. I'm here. N'I'm sorry…"

He sounded… sad and genuinely regretful while he had breathed these words and hope was bubbling in your stomach. And even though you knew how dangerous it was, you couldn't bring yourself to question your optimism right now. This was too good and the blistering liquid that escaped from your eyes along with your twisting insides was evidence enough that this was just the medicine you needed. Not a reality check or a reminder of Joel's words about offspring.

"N-No," your voice was overflowing, your fingers digging into the skin of his underarms like you couldn't believe yet that he didn't intend to drop you any second. He tightly clenched his teeth as if he was in pain and then leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips soft and careful, shy almost.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Joel whispered once he looked at you again. His eyes were glistening as well and you could make out the traces of tears on his face but just couldn't figure out what it meant. He gulped, his adam's apple moving in his throat before his gaze dropped to your belly.

"When… I mean… when did you find out?"

"A few days before…"

There was no need to finish the sentence; Joel slowly nodded, his hands remaining tight and warm around your face.

"An' why didn't you tell me?" was his next question and the blood in your veins froze at his husky voice.

The thought of being confronted with his dislike for children once more made your stomach turn and you didn't know if you would be able to handle it a second time. But now his question lingered in the air and not answering wasn't an option. He deserved to know everything and now that you had taken the first step to clear up the air you intended to lay all of your cards on the table. Still, it took you a few seconds to sort out your brain, to form the words in your head, and as your pupils danced frantically, your eyes staring into space, Joel let go of you, which you responded to at first with a disapproving moan, but then he pulled up a chair, sat down close to you and took your hands in his.

"S'okay. Take your time."

His thumb drew patterns over the back of your hand leaving goosebumps on your arms and you granted yourself a few more seconds of watching his beautiful thick fingers before clearing your throat and concentrating in an attempt to control the mess that was your brain.

"'Cause of what you said," you whispered, eyes twisted in pain at the memory. The wound had had over four months to heal, but it was still fresh and talking about it seemed to open it up and heal it at the same time.

You searched in his eyes for a sign that he understood what you were talking about but you didn't and so you ignored your racing heart and the way your body rejected to talk about it and explained to him.

"You… you said that you didn't want any kids… I wanted to tell you before, but… I don't know I was overwhelmed and then I planned to, I really did, but-but… you know there was our fight and then you said that and-and I was scared that you would… I don't know leave me when I tell you and you were angry with anyway. And then you b-broke up a-and… and I just couldn't."

There had been a break in your voice at the last word and your gaze had dropped to your lap. Saying these words had been hard enough already and looking right into Joel's eyes? There was no way you would have handled it without at least helplessly clinging to his body.

He didn't reply at first which you were more than thankful for because it took you a couple of minutes to collect yourself from the confession you had just made and once Joel trailed with his thumb over your knuckles, softly clearing his throat you felt strong enough to meet his gaze. You had to. You had to work out what it all meant for your future.

"I'm sorry. I really am." He leaned towards you again, this time kissing your temple, and you involuntarily grabbed his hand that was holding your head, feeling so in need of any kind of physical contact.

"I… Listen, I…" He exhaled loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers, his eyes closed and then made another attempt.

"I know I said that. And… I don't know in that situation I might've meant it, but…" He sighed again and almost furiously ran a hand through his hair.

"Jesus… I'm really not good at this stuff."

This time it was you who gently squeezed his hand and he gave you the faintest hint of a soft smile.

"The point is… I think I said it 'cause I just never thought having another kid would ever be an option. I didn't think about it. After… After she, you know… After it happened I was… I was at the lowest point in my life a-and I… I had all these thoughts thinkin' I could never have a child again 'cause I couldn't risk goin' through somethin' like that again. I had a girlfriend once an' at this time I was so fuckin' careful not to get her pregnant 'cause it was just a few years after the outbreak and I thought that havin' a child now would be the worst thing that could happen not only because of… you know, her, but also 'cause we were still tryin' to get a grip on everythin' and… you know, adapt… to everything."

He exhaled again but this time he did it out of relief.

"With you it's not like that." Your heart jumped.

"I… I don't know I met you and-and got to know you and everythin' was perfect… but it never crossed my mind that children… you know, were still an option. And that's why I said it when you mentioned her. Maybe 'cause it brought back old memories and old things that I promised myself back then and I just said them 'cause it was sort of an instinct. Or maybe 'cause I was angry at you and I just wanted to make you feel how terrible I felt after it happened so you'd feel bad. Make a scene or I don't know… Anyways, I didn't mean it. It meant nothing to me and that's why I couldn't even remember. And I wouldn't have said it if I knew that you were pregnant."

A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye and your eyes followed it all the way down until it touched the curve of his lip.

"I'm sorry, too," you whispered, the muscles in your chin twitching when Joel pulled your hand to his body to gently cage it between his own hand and his chest.

"No. Don't ya say that."

"But I am. I said awful stuff and you don't have to deny it. You had every right to be angry with me."

A sharp sniffle escaped you as a fresh wave of tears broke forth, mirroring the sun’s slow descent beyond the horizon. It was so sudden and intense that Joel's lips parted in shock and the was fast to move his chair even closer to you so your dropped head could lean against his shoulder.

"I missed you so much, Joel," you cried, the pain of the past 4 months crashing down upon you and you could do nothing but let it all out.

You surrendered to it, allowing the sadness, the fear, the anger and frustration, the regret and loneliness to get into your system and afflict your cells like a disease because you found it was the only way to eventually heal. And once again, you felt that with Joel at your side you were strong and courageous enough to face the sorrow, his support being what you needed to deal with the memories that you had been so frightened of over the last weeks.

"I missed you too, pumpkin. So so much…"

You clung to each other for life, seeking the comfort you had longed for so long and for the first time in months you actually felt that you could breathe freely. Nothing was restricting your air supply, no lump, no thickness in your throat that made you want to puke on the floor. You enjoyed the closeness for a few more minutes before preparing yourself for yet another thing that you felt you had to get off your chest.

"B-But...what you said the next day..." you began, looking up at him nervously as he retreated slightly.

Your eyes were begging for him, yearning for him to tell you that everything was going to be fine and that his reasons for breaking up with you were nothing more than meaningless excuses for feeling overwhelmed by circumstances.

Joel sat down again but didn't lose contact with your hand for a second.

"I know," he murmured and rubbed over the lower half of his face. "I… God, I don't know…"

"It was because of the fight, wasn't it?" you tried to help him, watching him precisely while he lay back in his chair.

"Kinda," Joel replied, rubbing his shoe tips together.

"Christ…," he cursed and you knew how difficult it was for him to express his thoughts. Joel wasn't the kind of man who usually faced his fears and vulnerabilities and talking to you about why he had felt the need to push you away from him? You couldn't emphasise enough how much you appreciated the fact that he tried for you.

"I mean, yeah, it kinda was 'cause of the fight. I… I did have doubts about the age gap thing sometimes, you know? Specially when we started datin'. But yeah, I mean you're a grown-up an' you can make your decisions and… maybe I'm an asshole but I wouldn't have ended our relationship because of it."

He nodded a few times, as if going over what he had just said and realising that he was on the right track.

"You know me, pumpkin," he then whispered, his voice soft and tender as his sparkling eyes took in your face and you couldn't help but melt under his gaze and at the sound of your favourite nickname. His voice embraced you like a warm blanket making you shudder and softly smile as Joel thoughtfully twisted his lips and the continued.

"You know that I ain't good at this stuff. Never was. An' I… I guess I panicked. When I heard you talk that night… and you spoke about openin' up and me drawin' back from you… I reacted. I reacted the only way I know and I shut down."

He paused, his lashes fluttering as he stared at the table as if there was anything interesting to see there.

"Maybe… I don't know, maybe it got too real. Maybe you became too real. The fact that you're here in – in my life and don't intend to leave and I… it was like a natural reaction. 'Cause it's what I do. I never was good at this and ever since… you know, ever since it happened with her I… I didn't want anyone to be that close again. 'Cause I fuckin' know what it feels like to lose someone like that. And I just… I saw in that moment how close you had gotten, y/n and seein' how much it hurt me that I hurt you… I realised that maybe I went too far with lettin' you in."

He sighed and let go of your hand, placing them on the table instead to trail his thumb over the rough surface.

"The thing about… her is that I – I just can't talk about it. It's… it's been 20 years and I – I just can't. And then you brought it up and – and it hit me like a… like a goddamn wrecking ball or somethin'. It was too much. But not just 'cause I didn't want to talk about it and it hurt so much but 'cause I realised that maybe…" He stopped again slightly shaking his head and sat up in his chair.

"I realised that maybe opening up to is what I would like? I mean I was stressed 'n' all and it was too much at once, but the thought of – of you gettin' to know more an' lettin' you in wasn't… so far away. And it was kinda pleasant to imagine talkin' to you 'bout it. 'Cause you're kind and – and sweet and I trust you but these feelings were so new and strange that I got scared and left 'cause I thought that would be easier."

He sighed like a massive weight had just dropped off his heart and perhaps that was exactly what had happened. Your tearful eyes were on his mouth as he still avoided your gaze, but as his flickering pupils sought you and your answer to all this, you drew your eyebrows together, tears threatening to spill again.

"I don't know if all of that makes any sense," Joel mumbled.

"It does," you breathed, nodding over and over again while a few silent tears ran down your flushed skin. "Thank you. For telling me."

Now it was him who nodded and to you it was a promise. A promise that Joel wouldn't bolt again. That he wouldn't take the easy path next time and run off because things became uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Joel. I should've told you earlier. And I should've been more sensitive regarding… you know."

"S'okay. I didn't exactly make it easy f'you," he whispered, his voice hollow but stable.

You grabbed his hand that felt warm and soft despite the marks the years had left on his skin and clenched it so tightly that it must hurt but Joel didn't even flinch.

"And m'sorry too. All of the shit I said… Goddamnit, honey, I didn't mean it and I… I – I mean if you want it… I'd like to raise this child with you. Of course I would."

Your heart not only jumped, it seemed to pirouette. It was racing, pounding so loudly you could hear it in your ears and for the first time in months there was no weight pulling your limbs down. No, you rather seemed to defy gravity and felt so light that you would surely be able to ascend from the ground if you wanted to. But of course you didn't. All you wanted was to stay in this house with Joel until the end of time.

"Really?" you breathed, softly chuckling when his fingers wiped away a tear.

"Of course, pumpkin. I love you. I love you more than anythin' in this goddamn world. You're my air, my - my reason to keep goin'. I need you, honey and these last weeks have been hell."

Seeing your nose wrinkle as more and more tears streamed down your cheeks, he put his hands on your waist to pull you towards him once more and this time moved you to sit on his lap, arms sliding around your waist to keep you close.

"B-But then why d-didn't you come t-to me?" you sobbed, your nails digging into his shirt like your claws wanted to claim your prey.

"I did. I wanted to every single day, but I… I was scared that you hated me an' that I would only make things worse. I thought maybe you didn't wanna see me."

"I love you," you pressed against his hair, shivers coursing through your arms and your fingertips buzzing with adrenaline. "Never leave me again."

"I won't. I promise you, baby."

His fingers wove through your hair with tender precision, untangling every stubborn knot and once your hair flowed down your back like soft silk, his palms gently settled against your waist.

"We're gonna have our own l'il family," he whispered pulling back to meet your gaze and gently, carefully and lightly as the soft spring breeze outside brushed with his hand over the curve of your belly caressing you through the fabric of your sweatshirt and exploring where life was growing in that moment.

You bit your lip as you looked down at him, the colors around him suddenly brighter, the outlines of objects sharper. Even the shadows seemed to recede, the living room bathed in golden light, and the birds outside were singing a little louder than usual. This man had just lit up your world and everything from your own future to the future of this world seemed more optimistic. Full of possibilities and options.

"I'm happy, Joel."

The pats of his fingers stroked your cheek right next to the corners of your mouth, tracing your laugh lines and although it was still unfamiliar to smile again it felt natural to do so while sitting on Joel's lap, your torso pressed against him and strands of your hair hanging in his face.

"So am I, pumpkin."

And then you kissed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @bbabycass

And shoutout to @mrspascalsworld

163 notes · View notes

nikid-aze · 1 month ago

Text

CANCELLED. 💢 — lee heeseung.

SYNOPSIS. Being a well known influencer those days can be kind of dangerous, one sentence out of context and you got cancelled, a thing that wasn’t bothering lee heeseung, a streamer and youtuber with more that one million followers. Sadly, his situation get even worse when he tried to shit talk about you — a well known writer and loved person on internet — and he start to wonder if he actually did the good choice when talking about your upcoming book on his last video. And the worst was the spam of message you got from him in the evening, trying to make it up for his harsh words about your work — or mostly you.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ lee heeseung x reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 kim sunoo, nishimura riki, park sunghoon, choi soobin, choi yeonjun & kang taehyun (txt), probably others idols added there..!

genre﹙💬﹚⸝⸝⸝ serie, romance, strangers to enemies/haters, enemies/haters to lovers, fanfiction, written chapter (!!), multiple chapters

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ mention of drinking, smoking, sexual jokes, drug use, , enhypen’s members being crackhead in this (??), probably other being added there soon..!

words count ‎⸝⸝⸝ 1318 💢

taglist ‎⸝⸝⸝ @sunnygirl-kait @chaheehee @doveblackboat @wonzzziezzzz be added to the taglist 💢 hope you would love this serie omgg

rains’ note ‎⸝⸝⸝ screaming rn because what do you mean I’m in love with my writing ? anyways 🫣 does heeseung is a complete dumbass in this serie ? Kind of yes, do I like it ? Absolutely. Will you like it ? Probably (I’m not 100% sure rn), so i’ll give a try with this short teaser/intro in hope that it would interest some of you ! don’t forget that you can comment below (I would appreciate it !💋)

MASTERLIST | NEXT >>

Heeseung himself couldn't say what had strangely driven the popularity of his YouTube channel or his livestreams, which were increasingly being watched by an unimaginable number of people. In truth, platforms like YouTube and Twitch were so complex that making a place among the biggest on these two platforms sometimes had something to do with a miracle.

For Heeseung, all this was understood while he himself was completely incomprehensible, his first name quickly finding itself trending as more and more people started tweeting about him — or about his latest livestreams.

At first, he simply thought it was because he had miraculously managed to attract the attention of young women — and a few men — with his charisma and his angelic, captivating face — not that he was narcissistic about himself, but that was one of the hypotheses that crossed his mind one evening.

All of this finally came crashing down when he realized that his so-called "popularity" was due to a clip from one of his recent livestreams, where he unfortunately got the idea to talk about another content creator and streamer — whom he could totally consider a colleague, given their shared personal interests or the numerous comments they had during each stream. Indeed, while Heeseung was a genuinely interesting person to listen to during his "what's up in hee's life" livestreams, where he mostly talked about the stream and interacted with his viewers, he sometimes tended to overlook his words — which were mostly simply insults or comments that a well-known and influential person shouldn't be saying.

The victim of this stream was @sunghoonshouse. Heeseung found himself making hateful comments toward Sunghoon — his real name — after noticing that his chat kept mentioning him or making allusions about him. In just one search and a quick glance at his channel, Heeseung had made comments he would normally never have made.

How had he reacted when he noticed that his first name or that clip of him was constantly circulating on Twitter or any other app? He had laughed when he read people spitting at him in the comments. After all, despite his comments about his work "colleague," Heeseung had noticed how his first name was plastered everywhere, thus unwittingly creating immense publicity for him, which he would undoubtedly take advantage of.

The idea of being canceled by his new — and in truth, first — haters didn't bother him at all. He would simply need to make a quick message in his next stream, or yes, instead of addressing his community or anyone watching him live, he would address Sunghoon directly, then apologize for his words, which had "gone beyond his thought and reflection" — explaining that he had supposedly spoken without thinking and that he hadn't meant them.

The days following his apology had been nothing but magnificent proof that, despite his apologies, Heeseung would not stop acting without thinking and saying whatever came to mind, even if it was only negative and completely hateful remarks, whether it was about a public figure, viewers of his own streams — who had supposedly annoyed him at the right time — or even topics that weren't as important.

Having realized that each thing he could say would earn him a little more popularity each time, Heeseung had strangely started to create a routine for himself. Creating a situation or saying things that could or would be intended to provoke a reaction, noting the clips in question being shared on social media as if they were THE last thing anyone needed to know about — which tended to bring a lot of people back to his streams in the following days — and once everything had settled down, making a video or dedicating a portion of his future stream to an apology message, explaining that, once again, he had indeed gone too far and that his words had gone beyond his thoughts.

Was this really the right thing to do?

Was this really the right thing to do? Absolutely not. Was it an effective way to gain popularity? In a way. Were the reactions and the number of haters that would make him do it? Certainly not. Did he have the minimum of respect to stop acting this way? Yes and no at the same time.

Being a child in a child's body, it wasn't surprising for Heeseung to apologize for such a serious remark, and then start over the following days as if nothing had happened the previous days.

Was he forgiven? Strangely, and although it may seem completely unthinkable, yes. Most of his followers followed him simply because they appreciated this side of Heeseung. Or was it simply because he was too handsome to leave the world of YouTube or the Twitch platform. And quickly, after a few months Heeseung had exceeded millions of followers, whether on YouTube or Twitch, and was no longer a YouTuber and Steamer video gamer, but was considered a content creator "shitposter", that is to say that he published what he wanted regardless of the impact of his videos.

The funniest thing about his rapid rise to popularity on his platforms was that Sunghoon — the content creator Heeseung had openly criticized — had become one of his close friends, with whom he occasionally streamed or organized videos, but he was also his roommate. This meant that Heeseung and Sunghoon's communities must have seen the friendship gradually develop, which certainly caused some reactions.

What did you think of this famous Heeseung? He didn't bother you much; in truth, you didn't know much about him beyond the numerous clips you saw circulating on Twitter that showed what kind of person he was. A hypocrite who used hatred towards others or almost homophobic or misogynistic remarks to draw attention to himself.

A true thoughtless jerk. That's what could have best represented him from your point of view, even if you'd never actually watched a single one of his streams or videos. Truth be told, the entertainment you saw on Twitter every weekend kept you busy enough that you didn't intend to watch even a single one of his streams in the future.

And even if one day the idea did come to mind, you didn't have the time. Unfortunately, books don't write themselves — at least not since you'd started writing, much to your dismay — and so you spent most of your time writing, editing, and rewriting sections of your future novel.

Well... that was before you received a message from one of your best friends — Taehyun — who strangely begged you to start Heeseung's current livestream because, according to him, you needed to hear his words right now, not after you'd gone to bed.

Quickly, you left your writing file to log into Twitch, and despite yourself, you had to click on Heeseung's channel to see that he was indeed streaming.

The next click left you frozen, staring at your screen as your lips parted, unable to believe what he was currently saying. The fact that your name had left his lips was practically unimaginable, but what followed had made you furious.

"An unsuccessful author who only wrote about depression and high school romances. Seriously, who would read such crap? I think you, like me, don't have time to waste reading books like this and would rather, for example, devote our time to the latest F1 race that was announced."

How could a man like him — a loser who locks himself in his room to chat in front of a camera — have the audacity to talk about you, and your upcoming book? You couldn't even believe how stupid he'd talked about you, describing you as a shitty author who only wrote about depression? This was a joke you were playing; it couldn't be explained any other way. Never, ever had you felt so humiliated and smeared as you did right now, when you weren't even in the same room as this idiot who was playing it.

174 notes · View notes

writesvani · 2 months ago

Text

coming down | 01

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to-enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): emotional distress and anxiety, body image issues and weight-related comments, mentions of food, dieting, and restriction, verbal abuse and manipulation, self-harm ideation, substance use and abuse references, mental health struggles (depression, anxiety, insecurity), intimate situations and explicit language, abandonment and neglect, self-deprecation and feelings of worthlessness, bullying or being belittled

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST

— previous chapter / next chapter

wc: 4,7k // date: 5th of March 2025

CHAPTER ONE - The Morning; proceed with caution...

AN: okay, first of all, let’s talk about ren. he's liteeerally the only reason i'm posting this chapter earlier. REN. If you didn’t fall in love with him in this chapter, then honestly, i don’t know what to tell you because he’s an absolute gem. like i’m literally obsessed with him. he’s my favorite character HANDS DOWN. i’m talking top-tier, i would throw myself in front of a speeding bus for him if i had to. i mean, he’s got the charm, the humor, the flawless sense of timing. he’s a walking chaos machine and i’m here for it. can we please get a round of applause for ren? seriously, he’s out here living his best life, making questionable decisions, and somehow being the best friend anyone could ask for.

this chapter? oh yeah, it’s the introduction to the story, the one that sets everything on fire (in a good way, don’t worry). we’re finally giving you the ren experience in full force because he’s that important. his energy? unparalleled. his bad decisions? iconic. his ability to get people into ridiculous situations? absolutely legendary. and don’t even get me started on how much i’m loving writing for him. i know you can’t tell, but i’m literally typing this while holding back tears of joy. like, this man could ask me to jump off a cliff and i’d probably do it because i’m just so in love with his chaotic little soul.

stay tuned for more chaos, more fun, and more ren being ren.

love, [@writesvani] (ren's #1 fan)

No one ever told you opening your eyes while fighting a horrible hangover would be this hard—well, they did, and you’ve experienced it millions of times—but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Fluttering your eyelashes, your eyes barely open as a blurry flash of sunlight enters your narrow line of vision.

Ugh.

Why did you drink so much last night? You don’t even know.

Never drinking again.

Noted.

Lying to yourself won’t make the situation any easier.

Noted as well.

Hardly awake, you shift, trying to lift yourself up to sit—except your bed isn’t yours at all.

And this isn’t your room.

Or your apartment.

Your head throbs as you blink away the lingering fog in your vision, forcing yourself to take in your surroundings.

A small studio apartment. Cramped, slightly chaotic, and definitely unfamiliarly familiar.

The sofa beneath you is worn, the cushions flattened from years of use. Next to it, a tiny coffee table is cluttered with splattered magazines and old computer science textbooks, their spines cracked and bruised from relentless study sessions. Among the mess, a dirty ashtray overflows, its stale scent clinging to the air.

Gross.

A ginger-scented candle sits beside it—maybe an attempt to neutralize the overwhelming stench of smoke, though it clearly isn’t doing its job.

Your eyes drift further, landing on the tiny kitchen area. Greasy, dimly lit, its sink overflowing with dishes that look like they’ve been abandoned for days. The counters are barely visible beneath the chaos of unwashed mugs, instant ramen cups, and a suspiciously sticky bottle of what you assume was once honey.

Unease coils in your stomach.

Where the fuck are you?

Your fingers clutch the blanket draped over you, a thin, soft thing that smells like cheap detergent and cigarette smoke.

And then—

Relief floods through you like a tidal wave, so strong it almost makes you dizzy.

Oh.

Thank God.

Thank God you ended up here.

“So my worst best friend is finally up! What a lovely surprise!”

A voice—far too loud for this hour, far too cheerful for your current state—pulls you from the lingering haze of sleep.

You groan, pressing your palms into your temples as if that could somehow will away the pounding headache splitting your skull. “Please, for the love of God, let me enjoy my peace and quiet for five minutes before coming in with your unnecessary comments.”

A dramatic gasp. Then, “Okay, bitch. Rude. I understand you’re hungover, but please just be civilized for a second there. You don’t have to throw your defensive mechanism in—I didn’t even start my lecture yet.”

You crack open one eye just to glare. “Cut the crap, Ren. I’m not really in the mood right now.”

Ren smirks, crossing his arms as he leans against the kitchen counter. “Oh babe, if I were into women, I’d already have gotten you in it.”

Your lips twitch despite the throbbing in your skull. Because no matter how much you despise him in this exact moment—for being loud, for being happy, for simply existing when all you want is to die a slow, miserable, post-hangover death—a wave of relief crashes over you.

You’re safe.

Safe from last night. Safe with him.

You’ve known Ren for ages. Just to be more precise, since you were eleven. He’s your other half, your soulmate in a way that has nothing to do with romance and everything to do with the fact that, if it weren’t for his overwhelming love for ass and balls and dicks/men, the two of you would already be married.

It’s a thought you’ve had more than once. A parallel universe, maybe. One where you’d be an old married couple on some tropical island, far away from the bullshit of everyday life. Where you’d smoke weed all day and piss him off, and he’d play The Sims 4 all night and piss you off right back—screaming at his Sim for cheating on their husband with some new guy, courtesy of Wicked Whims.

But that’s not this universe.

This one’s a little messier.

This one’s full of questionable life choices, painfully slow mornings, and an unspoken pact:

If neither of you find an unrespectably hot, respectable man by the time you’re 35—

The wedding’s on.

“How the fuck did I end up here?”

Your voice is raw, thick with exhaustion and regret. The world tilts as you sit up, and for a brief moment, you genuinely consider throwing yourself right back into unconsciousness.

Ren, ever the dramatic one, sighs as if this isn’t the millionth time you’ve asked him that exact question. “What do you think?”

You blink at him. “First of all, don’t answer my question with another question. Second of all, IF I FUCKING KNEW, I WOULDN’T BE ASKING.”

Ren groans, tossing his hands into the air like a cartoon character about to launch into a monologue. “Okay, calm your pretty ass down, missy. You were too wasted. Or high. Or probably both. And you got a cab to my place. Probably the only address you could remember, considering we all know you can’t remember your own after one shot.”

His words are a jumble in your aching brain, but the general gist is clear: you fucked up. Again.

You huff, crossing your arms, but the sudden movement sends a sharp pain straight to your skull.

Yup.

Never drinking again.

“Oh, Rennie,” you mumble, pulling his blanket over your head and collapsing onto the silky mattress. “I don’t think I’m ever going to drink again.”

Ouch. Bad decision. Pain again.

You’re dizzy, disoriented, sinking into the pillowcase you got him for his twenty-second birthday—the one he pretended not to like but still uses anyway.

Ren sighs. Not annoyed, not even surprised. Just—accepting. Because this isn’t the first time you’ve stumbled into his apartment, destroyed beyond reason, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

You feel bad. You always do. But you can’t help it.

Ren is the last remaining fragment of the old you, the one you buried deep in the back of your mind, the one you so desperately tried to forget. But he’s Ren, and he’s been your Ren since you were eleven.

And you hate it—hate that you keep dragging him into your mess, ruining his perfectly fine days with your self-inflicted chaos. But for some unfathomable reason, Ren still loves you.

He loved you at your best.

He loved you at your worst.

And somehow, he still loves you in whatever the fuck this is.

“It’s okay, babe. I know you’re lying.”

Ren’s voice is steady, soft, almost knowing. He doesn’t call you out with anger or frustration—just that damn patience of his, the kind that makes your chest tighten and your throat burn.

“C’mon, don’t go all crocodile tears and fake regrets on me now,” he continues, settling down next to you. “You know there’s always a safe space for you here.”

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. His touch is light, barely there, but it still feels like an anchor. You lean into it instinctively, your head still pulsing with the aftermath of last night’s recklessness. Yet somehow, his presence dulls the ache, lulling your discomfort into something almost bearable.

Ren always had that effect on you.

“Now, now,” he hums, voice teasing but gentle. “Tell me what got you so worked up that you drank like a dog let off a leash last night.”

You tense, but before you can even think of an excuse, he sighs.

“Sorry for not coming, by the way,” he murmurs. “But you already know how I feel about Yumi and all your other friends.”

And just like that, if you thought you couldn’t possibly feel worse, Ren effortlessly proves you wrong.

Because the only person you actually wanted to spend time with on your birthday wasn’t there—and it’s all because of you.

Ren doesn’t like them. It’s as simple as that.

He doesn’t like your friends, your environment, or the people you surround yourself with. He thinks they’re a bunch of problematic teens trapped in grown-up bodies, incapable of making rational decisions. They seek validation from whatever reckless or idiotic thing they did just to be considered “cool enough” on campus.

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s exactly what they are.

Ren isn’t shy about speaking his truth, especially when it comes to them. And you’re used to it by now. Hell, you wouldn’t want him to lie, to pretend like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not. It’d be too toxic for your best friend to step out of his comfort zone just to match your lifestyle, to accommodate what you think you want.

He doesn’t need to.

Ren has been the only constant, the only good thing in your life for the past few years. And, in a way, that’s enough.

"It's okay, lovie. We’ll be together today," you murmur, your voice quieter than usual. "I tried to bail on the party, but you know Yumi—she just wouldn’t budge."

You shift, mind working at lightning speed, lips parting and closing as you try to piece together the mess of last night. It’s all a bit blurry, details slipping through the cracks of your memory like sand through your fingers. But one thing stands out.

Gojo called you cheap.

The words flash in your mind like a neon sign, burning hot, humiliating, cutting deeper than you’d ever admit. And, of course, you being you, there was no way you’d just walk away, let him have the last word like that. No, you had to strike back.

So you did.

In front of Geto, the guy you’d actually wanted to take home, you called Gojo out. Laid it all bare. Exposed your past, your messy, embarrassing, mistake-ridden history with him. Let the words roll off your tongue like venom, staining the air of Nanami’s pristine beige living room.

The degradation of admitting you’d once fucked the beautiful, white-eyed demon was almost unbearable. Almost. Because underneath that shame, there was something else—something undeniably satisfying about the way Gojo’s face drained of color.

Ha. Should’ve taken a picture.

The man was sweating.

But, of course, that satisfaction was short-lived. The moment passed, leaving behind nothing but a thick, awkward silence that hung in the air like a bad smell.

Mood? Ruined.

Horny? Not anymore.

Gojo? Pissed.

Geto? Not having it.

And honestly, you couldn’t even blame him. Who the hell would still be in the mood after witnessing an argument that never should’ve happened in the first place?

Gojo left quickly, tossing a sharp, “This isn’t over” over his shoulder before disappearing.

And Geto?

He just sat there, staring at you, dumbfounded.

So, as any sane person would do, you decided to self-destruct with tequila and dance to the INNA Party Mix some random guy snuck into the playlist while no one was looking.

Gojo’s words didn’t touch you. Not even a little bit. And losing your dick of the night? Whatever. Hot guys were everywhere. Besides, it was probably for the best—you really didn’t need the extra drama of Geto’s girlfriend finding out about whatever almost happened.

So that’s probably how you ended up at Ren’s place.

Even though you have zero recollection of getting here in the first place.

“So it wasn’t just weed and shots,” Ren squeezes your hand, his voice softer now. “It was Gojo.”

Your throat tightens. No. It wasn’t Gojo. Of course, it wasn’t Gojo. You just wanted to let loose, enjoy the night, without anyone ruining it for you. Right?

Right?

“Who cares about that assface? I just wanted to get drunk and high, simple as that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ren lifts his hands in surrender. “I won’t mention it again. Promise on Charli XCX.” He nods toward the poster on his wall, and for the first time since waking up, a laugh escapes your lips.

His eyes light up at the sound, and in that moment, you swear you love him even more.

Because Ren never pushes. He never pressures you to explain yourself or dissect your feelings. He just lets you be.

And you love him for that.

What you don’t love is the flicker of knowing in his gaze—the way he reads you like an open book. Not many people ever managed to do that.

But it doesn’t matter. Because Ren never says it out loud.

It’s different with him.

Sometimes you wonder if things would be easier if you could have this kind of connection with anyone else. But then again, if you did, maybe what you have with Ren wouldn’t feel so rare and fragile and beautiful.

“Swear on BRAT,” you say, extending your pinky.

“I swear on BRAT,” he echoes, linking his pinky with yours.

And just like that, Gojo isn’t mentioned again.

Or last night.

Or Yumi.

Or Nanami’s obscenely expensive house.

"C'mon, babe. Let's go get some breakfast."

Ren tugs you out of bed, dragging you into the world of the living, and just like that, you’re not a mess anymore. It’s stupid how easily he does that—how he makes you feel a little less like a disaster with nothing but his presence. And maybe, just maybe, you love him a little more than you did mere seconds ago.

The place Ren takes you to is… odd.

Some kind of coffee shop-slash-restaurant-in-the-making. It’s close to his apartment, but it’s way too edgy to be a normal breakfast spot. But hey—a free meal is a free meal, and who are you to complain when he offered to treat you?

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating a little. It’s not that edgy. Just… offbeat.

It’s called Radio, and by some wonderfully bizarre twist, the entire place is literally filled with radios.

They’re everywhere.

The walls are made of them, stacked up like some chaotic art installation. Car radios serve as makeshift stands, holding the food and drink menus. The menus themselves? Coquette-coded, decorated with bows and big-eyed deer like they were plucked straight from some Tumblr fever dream.

And then there’s the rest of the decor—ripped anime T-shirts hanging in the corners, stickers on the counter with millennial-core quotes like Eat. Sleep. Coffee. Repeat.

The waitress who approaches your table looks dead inside, eyeliner smudged into a mess so perfectly disheveled it’s almost intentional. She definitely doesn’t want to be here. But then again, do any of us?

"Stop judging," Ren hisses.

You blink at him. Judging?

"I’m a broke college student, and this place is cheap enough to actually fill my stomach," he defends, crossing his arms.

"I’m not judging," you retort. "But you have to admit, this place is weird. Look around. The interior designer who made this was probably on coke. Or MDMA. Or both."

Ren sighs. Deeply.

"Not everyone has to get high to come up with weirdly fun concepts," he says, exasperated.

"Now that’s just a lie, honey," you shoot back, leaning on your hand. "All artists get their inspiration somewhere, and the good ones? They get it on something. Look at Van Gogh. Dickens. Bukowski—"

"That’s not something to be proud of," Ren interrupts, rolling his eyes. "Those people were addicts. They needed help. Jesus. There's no proof that they made their best works because they were high—who knows? Maybe their art would've been even better if they were sober."

You hum, pretending to consider his argument.

"Well, you can’t prove that, can you?" you say, smirking.

Ren narrows his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line. Checkmate.

You love throwing these hypothetical what ifs at him just as much as he loves throwing them at you. His argument about sobriety is well-executed, you’ll give him that.

But he’ll never understand the euphoria—the way inspiration thrums in your veins when you’re tipsy, or better yet, high. The way stories are born from that space between reality and delirium. You swear your best ideas only exist there.

(Not that you’ve ever tried making them sober, of course.)

"Let’s not argue about the lives and works of people we’ll never truly know," Ren sighs, finally relenting.

"Okay," you agree, lips twitching.

For now.

“So, we can’t talk about your Voldemort, but you can for sure tell me more about that black-haired hottie you met last night?”

Ren’s rosy lips curve into a playful grin, his eyes lighting up with excitement. And just like that, you can’t help but melt at how much he lives for the gossip. Some things never change.

“He has a girlfriend, you mentioned?” Ren asks again, clearly wanting the details.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I care,” you shrug, rolling your eyes. “I wouldn’t go after a taken man who didn’t want me—that’s just not cool. But this guy, I’m telling you, from the second he laid eyes on me, he was eye-fucking me. Like, full-on, taking my clothes off telepathically and sinking his cock into me. It was intense.”

Ren snorts, amused.

“And if you saw him—he was all black long hair, a bandana, A BANDANA hanging from his neck. Made me wanna strangle him and lick him at the same time.” You pause, feeling the heat rise in your chest. “And the polo shirt, okay, I thought it was kinda lame for a college party, but it gave me a peek at his abs and, oh my god, his happy trail. And his lips, babe, I’m telling you. Pink, soft, begging to be bitten. Ugh. I should’ve tried harder and just fucked him.”

“Wait, you saw his happy trail?”

“Yeah, his shirt rode up when he was stretching after playing billiards with the guys. I was already plastered, but trust me, I saw it. It was practically an invitation to drop to my knees.” You take a bite of your fries, half-listening to yourself as the images replay in your mind.

“Well, if it were me, I’d be licking that happy trail into the midnight and riding him ‘til sunrise, baby,” Ren quips with a grin, taking a bite of his crepes.

You can see the look in Ren’s eyes—the way he’s already imagining it all. It makes you laugh, feeling a rush of affection for your ridiculous, perfectly in-sync best friend.

“Got a pic of the hottie?”

You freeze.

Your horniness deflates to zero. You forgot. You didn’t even get his number, his Instagram, nothing. “I forgot to follow him. I’m so fucking dumb.”

Ren rolls his eyes.

“Follow him now, duh. Who cares?”

“I care,” you say quickly. “I don’t want him to think I’m some creepy-ass loser who’s randomly looking him up.”

Ren looks at you like you’re nuts. “He won’t think that. Plus, if he doesn’t follow you back, then he’s blind and needs a check-up.”

“Let’s just try looking him up on Insta. Maybe he has a profile pic so you can see him, but I am NOT following him.”

You whip out your phone and start typing.

And there he is. Geto Suguru.

And oh boy.

His profile pic isn't just a pic, he's shirtless, his shorts hanging low on his hips, and there it is—the happy trail, long, dark, and deliciously inviting. His face is perfectly smirking, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. You feel a shiver run down your spine, practically drooling as you stare at the picture.

Ren, ever impatient, snatches your phone from your hands before you can even blink. His mouth falls open in shock.

“Sweet Jesus, oh my God,” he breathes, his eyes flicking between you and the picture, blinking rapidly like his brain can’t handle it.

Then he moves his thumb. And you know exactly what he’s doing, but it’s too late. It’s too fucking late.

Ren has just sent a follow request to your “almost fuck.”

You feel a panic rise in your chest. No. This is it. You’re going to strangle him. Watch as life leaves his annoying body and his breath gets lost somewhere else because you know—you just know—he did it. He followed him. From your phone and your goddamn Instagram account.

“Are. You. Fucking. Insane?”

You stare at Ren in disbelief, heart pounding in your chest as your brain tries to process what he’s just done.

“I did what had to be done,” Ren grins, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “This man is too fine and too sexy not to be tried out at least once. Honestly, pardon his straightness, but I’d blow him like my life depended on it. Since I can’t do it myself, you’re gonna take the sacrifice of doing it for me.”

You feel a mix of anger and embarrassment bubble up inside you. “Ren, I’m going to kill you. I’m literally going to kill you.”

“Relax, girl,” he snickers, waving you off like it’s no big deal. “And when you fuck him, pretty please think about me, so I can, by some miracle, feel it as well.”

You roll your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, but there's that nagging fear lingering in the pit of your stomach. “What if he doesn’t follow me back?” you whine, your voice a mix of real concern and dramatic flair. “I’m too old for this humiliation. I don’t need more rejection stacking up on my list.”

Ren just shrugs, completely nonchalant. “He will. Trust. Now eat your food, ho, and let’s go shopping.”

You don’t believe him, though. Deep down, you know he’s lying—because by the end of your shopping spree with Ren, Geto still hasn’t followed you back.

You’re losing your mind.

Even after you’ve showered, eaten, and taken a power nap, you find yourself glued to your phone. There’s still no accepted request. No follow. Just a stupid pending ‘follow request sent’ sitting there, mocking you.

You panic. You called Ren probably ten times and sent him thirty messages, all containing some combination of death, you, kill, and didn’t follow me back. You’ve become a mess—unrecognizable even to yourself.

The worst part? You know he saw it. You just know it. There’s no way in hell he didn’t check his phone at least once in the eight hours that passed. He’s leaving you hanging, like some peasant who isn’t even worth the time to be acknowledged.

It stings. It fucking stings.

You were dramatic before, sure, but you were deep down thinking he'd follow you back. Everyone does. He was all over you last night, wanting you, practically undressing you with his eyes. There was no way that stupid little spat with Gojo could have ruined things with Geto. Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were just stupid.

How dare he?

How dare he act like you weren’t worth even a simple follow? You start pacing around the room, frustration boiling over as your mind spirals into overdrive.

Then it hits you.

Gojo. That bastard. He’s always meddling in your business, always making things harder than they need to be. He loves getting involved for no reason, just to mess with you.

Just like he did before.

18 years ago

It’s an usual Friday afternoon, and you’re sitting with your great grandma on the front porch, her wrinkled hands steady as she writes down the words you dictate to her. You don’t know how to write yet—not really. Yes, you know the alphabet, but putting words together, let alone sentences on paper, feels like an impossible task for your six-year-old mind. But you know how to speak, and that’s all that matters right now. So you speak, and she writes, and together, you create a poem. It’s about winter, and comfort, and there’s a line about soup cooking on the stove, messily tossed in there.

You swear, in that moment, you’ve never been prouder of yourself. You are creating something—your very first poem. And even though it’s messy, even though it doesn’t follow all the rules of the world that you’re still figuring out, you did it.

Gojo, your next door neighbor and self proclaimed best friend sits beside you, shyly drawing you, your grandma, himself, and his favorite teddy bear, Teddy (of course) on what he insists is a train, even though it looks more like a stinky snail. You laugh, but then your excitement gets the best of you, and you run to your dad to show him the poem you just made with Nana. You can’t read it, but that doesn’t matter because Nana’s going to read it to him, and you’re so excited.

You just know he’ll be proud of you.

Nana reads the poem out loud, and you watch your dad as he listens. He smiles, and you’re filled with warmth, because he’s so pretty when he smiles. His eyes crinkle in that perfect greenish light, and his mouth—those dimples—just make everything feel perfect.

But then, he speaks.

“Nana, it’s great you’re teaching her all that, but she doesn’t have to write about food. There are many more beautiful things to write about. Our little peach is already a bit too chubby, and we’ve really been trying to help her lose weight, so I don’t think writing or thinking about food is good for her right now, right?”

Your heart sinks. Your excitement crashes to the ground.

You don’t know what it is, but his words make you feel so small. Your eyes drop to the ground, and you can’t hide from the uncomfortable, overwhelming feeling that floods over you. You already feel too big in your skin, too big in your body. Too big in your dad’s mind.

And then you feel it—the rush of anxiety. It sweeps over you like a tide, drowning you in its force. The weight of his words, the weight of your disappointment in his eyes, it’s too much. You couldn’t even keep it together for a stupid little poem.

Again.

You’ve disappointed him. Again. And there’s nothing you can do to make it stop.Nana says something, her voice soft and reassuring, about you being a normal, healthy little kid. She shakes her head at your dad disapprovingly, but you can’t hear her over the ringing in your ears. His words hang around you, clouding the air, and the warmth that had once bloomed in your chest shrivels up. The mood is ruined. And even though you fight it, even though you don’t want to, your eyes grow heavy and the tears that have been threatening to spill finally break free.

You try to hold them back, but they come anyway.

"I don’t think you’re chubby. You’re cute, and I liked your poem," Gojo whispers to you, his small, warm hand slipping into yours. He squeezes it gently and beams a pretty, innocent smile at you.

But instead of feeling better, you feel worse.

His hand is smaller than yours. And he’s a boy. He’s smaller and slimmer than you, and you’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be thinking about these things, but you can’t stop. He’s smaller and slimmer and better, and you're chubbier, and nothing about this is fair.

And then you hear your dad again, his words ringing in your ears, harsher this time.

“Satoru, you don’t have to lie to make her feel better. Y/n’s a big girl. She can take it. Besides, she knows it’s for her own good.”

You nod, but it’s sharp and harsh, the motion of your head quick and jerky. You pull away from Satoru’s embrace, feeling like you might break under the weight of everything. His eyes are sad. You can see it now. The pity. The pity in his eyes, in your dad’s eyes, in everyone’s eyes. It’s there, it’s so clear, and you hate it.

You don’t understand pity yet, not fully, but you understand how it makes you feel small.

You’re not a little kid anymore.

Satoru looks mad now. He gives you one of those looks—‘It’s okay, I’ve got you’—the kind that only makes you feel worse. You can’t stand it.

You want to run. You want to hide. You want to be alone, away from all of this, away from their pity, away from the shame building up in your chest.

So you do.

You run. You run to your room, and when you’re there, the door shuts behind you, and you fall onto your bed. The tears come in waves, and you cry until evening falls, until your eyes are red and sore. You don’t come downstairs for dinner.

“Tomorrow, I’m not gonna eat anything. Then all of them are gonna see.”

You whisper the words to yourself, not fully understanding the weight of them, but in that moment, they make you feel like you have control. Like you can make everything better. And that's how it all begins.

taglist: @heh123321 @kazupop @mintcheery @krispywhisperswhispers

207 notes · View notes

casualhedonists · 1 year ago

Text

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth

2K notes · View notes

dailynnt · 1 month ago

Text

ONE NIGHT AS THE PRICE OF A REQUEST

⋆˙⟡ Summary: You hate your neighbor Jungkook, but you have to ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to get rid of your annoying boss. He agrees, but you don't even imagine what you'll have to pay him with. Everything goes according to plan until Jungkook reveals his true price during the dance: one night with him or your life in the neighborhood will be hell.

⋆˙⟡ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ The Reader, Jungkook/Y/N

⋆˙⟡ Age restrictions: 18+

⋆˙⟡ Index of chapters: ≣

⋆˙⟡ Number of chapter: 8/?

⋆˙⟡ Tags: enemies-to-neighbors-to-lover, fake relationship, hate to desire, dom!Jungkook, heated blackmail, one bed trope (later more than one bed), undeniable chemistry, forced deal, mutual obsession, dangerous game, unexpected feelings, passion on edge, impossible to resist, tension and desire, unprotected sex, sexual tension, slow burning

⋆˙⟡ From author: Hello my dear 💜 I came to you with a new part. Honestly, I think I'm experiencing writer's block again. I don't know, but I think you can feel it in the text, but I wrote it as well as I could 😖🥹 But it doesn't matter, the main thing is that I managed to write it and I'm excited to share the new part with you 💜 What do you think of Jungkook's actions? And do you think there is something between Sukhi and Yoongi? Leave me a few words about this chapter in the comments I'm curious to know what you think about the plot development 🫶🏻💜 I love you all and thank you for continuing to read ❤️‍🔥🥹

⋆˙⟡ Dedication: to my biggest love @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko007, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle for loving me for nothing. I love you girls twice as much 🥺🤭💜🫶🏻

⋆˙⟡ Tag list: @kelsyx33, @curse-of-art, @kooko009, @smokinghotstargirl, @myjungkookthighs, @mskookie, @minimoninini, @medstudentlifestyle, @bhonbhon, @ottergirl, @vantelover1306, @deepikhaprakash, @mar-lo-pap, @zeytiable, @lallataegi, @vintagemoonsstuff, @indigomoonchild09, @diame93, @bts-ruu, @asyr97 (If you want to be on the tag list, let me know)

⋆˙⟡ Warning: English is not my native language, so please be lenient with mistakes in the text 🥹

Chapter 8. Established and Violated

Jungkook slowly let go of your face, but his fingers slid down to find your palm. He intertwined your fingers, pulling you closer-as if on purpose, as if he wanted to show someone.

You glanced at him quickly, trying to catch his reaction.

Jungkook was smiling, barely noticeably, with the same carelessness that always confused you. He looked as if he had been caught red-handed, but that was his plan.

"Sukhi... you're here today too? I didn't know you were invited," he said in an innocent tone that was lazy and absent-minded.

You turned your gaze to his fiancée. Her eyes swept over your figure, coldly assessing every detail.

"I'm surprised you didn't know, dear. I'm a leading model for Vante Maison. Of course I was invited." Her voice sounded soft, almost affectionate, but you wanted to distance myself from it. "So this is that girl who's causing all the fuss?" she smiled slightly, keeping her eyes on you. "Are you so fond of your new doll that you drag it everywhere?"

You raised your eyebrows, feeling irritation rise in your chest. You didn't know why, but this girl was getting on your nerves.

Kang Sukhi looked like a typical heiress-a girl who grew up in a world where there were no rejections and no compromises. Prestigious schools, private clubs, private parties for the elite. She knew what power was, and she was sure she was in control even now.

She was tall and slender, with a perfect body and face that had clearly cost more than a million. You immediately noticed a thin line along her nose, a trace of rhinoplasty. Her lips were a little plumper than usual, and her skin was flawlessly smooth, as if after laser resurfacing.

She wore a red Alexander McQueen dress that perfectly emphasized her figure, and an expensive diamond necklace sparkled around her neck. Precious earrings and a white gold bracelet were the perfect complement to the look. Her up-do and makeup looked flawless, though a bit... polished.

"Are you their model? I really didn't know..." Jungkook said, but you immediately realized he was playing the fool.

"You'd know if you answered any of my calls." Sukhi didn't change her tone. "I called you today to tell you that I'll be here too. I saw your name on the guest list."

"Oh, you called me?" Jungkook feigned surprise. "Sorry, Sukhi, I've been really busy these days..."

You hummed.

"Yes, I've noticed that you've been busy. And now I understand why." Sukhi raised her eyebrows, "Is that why you didn't come to dinner with our parents last night? Were you busy with something more important?"

You felt her gaze on you, as if she were looking at you not as a person but as a problem to be solved.

"That's right..." Jungkook replied with a smile, and then as if he remembered something, he raised his hand to his temple, "Oh, that's so rude of me. Meet Y/N," Jungkook said it lightly, as if he didn't notice the tension. "Y/N is Sukhi..."

"His future fiancée," she held out her hand to you. You looked at it and didn't even think to shake her hand in return it.

"Oh, the same bride whose engagement with was never officially announced? Yes, yes, I heard about you."

The smile you gave her was far from sincere. Jungkook squeezed your fingers lightly. The tension between you was almost tangible.

Sukhi smiled again, a flawless, soulless smile.

"How sweet." she took the hand you didn't want to shake, "I've always liked the way Jungkook picks his girls. He has good taste."

You held her gaze.

"Oh, so you're familiar with his past girlfriends?"

"Enough to know that none of them stayed long." Sukhi gave a slight shrug.

You laughed, though it was more mockery than amusement.

"Oh, so you're hoping I'll disappear too?"

Sukhi tilted her head as if she was really thinking.

"No need to hope. It's only a matter of time." She glanced at Jungkook, "So you might as well play with her while you still have the chance. But you know we're going to get married."

You heard Jungkook exhale slightly, hiding his smile.

"Why do you think I'm just playing around?" he deliberately ignored her words about marriage, his voice calm, almost lazy. "I like her."

Sukhi froze. Her eyes swept over you again, as if she were trying to figure out what it was about you that caught his attention. And then she smiled-silently, mockingly.

"I sincerely don't understand why. But go ahead. Play, my dear. Enjoy it while you can."

You felt her confidence - unshakable, hard as marble. You were so focused on this woman that you didn't notice Yoongi suddenly appear next to her. It was only when he stood next to her that you noticed him. He smiled, but you didn’t like his smile.

"Sukhi, you came at last..." he said, putting his arm around her waist. She turned to him, giving him the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek. Her smile became wide and friendly.

"Oh Oppa, I hurried as fast as I could." She said holding Yoongi’s hand. The man was in no hurry to let go of her waist. You watched the scene before your eyes with interest. It felt like they had forgotten where they were and that it was just the two of them.

You immediately noticed how Yoongi’s eyes were burning when he looked at Suhi. You mentally scoffed, because before that, this man looked chronically indifferent to everything. As soon as Jungkook’s fiancée appeared, Yoongi literally became a different person.

You thought that maybe Sukhi was acting this way on purpose to make Jungkook jealous. You were curious, so you looked up at him.

Jungkook didn't look annoyed or outraged. He watched the scene in front of him with the same expression that people have when watching a play they've seen many times before. His lips twitched slightly, as if he was about to say something but changed his mind.

Sukhi, meanwhile, gently adjusted Yoongi’s shirt collar as if it were a common thing for her.

"Yoongi-oppa, you know I couldn't miss this event," her voice became softer, almost caressing.

"Of course," he agreed, and there was not a shadow of indifference in his voice. On the contrary, Yoongi seemed completely enchanted by her.

Jungkook hummed softly and looked at you.

"It seems we're not needed here." He leaned closer, touching his lips to your hair. He pointed to Sukhi, who was now laughing flirtatiously at something Yoongi had said. You cast a quick glance at them.

"I think your fiancée wants you to be jealous."

Your faces were separated by a few centimeters. Jungkook smiled lazily, and you were literally mesmerized by the sight of him. You involuntarily looked down at his lips, and remembered how he had kissed you perfectly with them just recently.

"There is nothing more indifferent to me in this life than the jealousy she’s trying to provoke," he said playfully, but you could feel the determination in his voice. You liked his answer. You burst out laughing.

Sukhi, meanwhile, noticed that you and Jungkook were not paying any attention to her. She took half a step away from Yoongi, as if to pretend that she shouldn't be behaving like that. Yoongi, on the other hand, remained standing still, his hands hidden in his pocket.

"I'm going to go with Yoongi-oppa and say hello to everyone," Sukhi said, turning to Jungkook. He barely looked away from you. And you could barely look away from him.

You felt yourself getting hot. The alcohol in your blood was making itself felt. It was definitely because of it, not because of Jungkook, who was still pressing his strong body against yours.

Jungkook nodded but didn't say anything. Yoongi looked at him nervously, but he held his gaze calmly.

"Buddy, come with us. By the way, Jimin was looking for you," Yoongi said.

"We'll come back later. Go ahead without us," Jungkook replied, taking a glass of whiskey.

You looked over at Sukhi and Yoongi, watching their behavior carefully. Sukhi clicked her tongue slightly, then took Yoongi’s hand and they walked away. You followed her for a while longer, catching the subtle scent of her expensive perfume in the air.

Jungkook didn't let go of you. You tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let you.

"Kitten, you shouldn't get out quickly exit the role. She'll be watching all night," he said and took a sip of whiskey.

You tilted your head, looking at him carefully.

"Did you know she was going to be here? That's why we came here?" you asked bluntly.

Jungkook bit his lip near the piercing, but didn't answer right away. As if he was deliberately stalling.

"Yes. It was a good opportunity for her to see us together," he said and smiled slyly.

You folded your arms across your chest, looking away.

"Why didn't you warn me? I would have been better prepared..."

You didn't like Jungkook running your agreement alone. You should have been aware of all his plans, not playing improvisation.

"I think you did everything perfectly. Sukhi reaction was exactly what I expected. She was nervous," he said encouragingly and leaned over to lightly touch your forehead with his lips. You smiled.

You realized that somewhere in the crowd of people, Sukhi could be looking at you. And that's why you let Jungkook touch you the way he wanted.

"I don't think she felt any competition. Her confidence is higher than Namsan Tower," you said, pulling away from him. You were still in his arms. And for a second, you caught yourself thinking that you liked it. "She's beautiful. Why don't you just marry her?" you asked curiously.

"You're prettier," he replied nonchalantly.

Your heart fluttered. You were involuntarily confused for a moment. And Jungkook noticed. You raised your eyebrows skeptically.

"You don't need to lie now, there are no witnesses around."

"I'm not lying, kitten," he purred, leaning closer. You reflexively leaned back. Jungkook froze just a centimeter from your lips. You put your palms on his chest, holding him back.

"You're more beautiful, sexier, hotter. I was right to offer you this deal."

You laughed nervously. His words turned your insides upside down. He couldn't be serious. To you, Sukhi was perfect. And you had a lot of flaws.

"Gosh, is this your tactic? Are you trying to seduce me?" you squinted. Your fingers involuntarily squeezed the fabric of his white jacket.

Jungkook's eyes sparkled with dangerous sparks.

"I didn't even try," he replied, bending even lower. "But I'm sure that just by me touching you, your panties are wet."

You widened your eyes, but before you could say anything, he brazenly closed his lips on yours. His tongue was immediately in your mouth. And you really felt the moisture appearing between your legs. This man is having a detrimental effect on you.

You responded, but did not let the kiss last. You pushed him away, taking a step back. You quickly grabbed the cocktail glass and took a big gulp, trying to calm down.

Jungkook smiled with satisfaction and walked over to you. He leaned on the bar, looking at you. You stubbornly ignored him.

"Fuck, don't be so shy. Otherwise I'll walk around with a hard-on." You almost choked on your drink.

You coughed desperately, gasping for air, and Jungkook, satisfied with his effect on you, patted your back gently.

"Jeon, shut up," you said angrily, clearing your throat. He laughed loudly, and then leaned away from the counter and came up behind you, pressing his chest against your back.

"It's your own fault..." he murmured against your cheek. His hands slid down, and you suddenly felt... Felt him touching you with his half-erect cock through the fabric of your clothes. "And it seems to be working. Wouldn't you like to make my condition easier?" he asked. His grip on your waist tightened. He rubbed lightly against your buttocks. You held your breath as you felt his length. You felt hot. Your heart was racing. But you managed to pull yourself together. You must not fall for his provocations. You would never break the rule you had made. He used your body too confidently, as if he had every right to do so.

"I'm afraid I can't help you, love," you said, flatteringly, pulling away. Your eyes slid down and you caught yourself thinking that you had been staring at his arousal for too long. "But you can always help yourself."

"Too bad." Jungkook exhaled a laugh and then leaned down to your face, not coming close. "Because your game of indifference is turning me on like hell."

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore his influence. But he seemed to sense that you were losing control, and that was enough for him to press on.

"I'm serious, Jungkook. Leave me alone." you said with a completely cute expression on your face, although your tone was serious.

He tilted his head, looking at you thoughtfully.

"Leave you alone?" he repeated. "When you talk like that, I want to do the opposite."

"That's enough, Jungkook! This is annoying me, we agreed to behave within the framework of the agreement." Suddenly, you snapped, not even realizing you had raised your voice. His smug face instantly changed. You nervously looked around to see if anyone was looking at you.

Jungkook straightened up and took a half-step back, his smile disappearing. You turned away. He stood behind you in silence for a moment, and then you heard his voice.

"I'm going to go to Jimin and come back. If you need me, call me." He turned to leave, but you stopped him.

"You're dumping me?"

Jungkook stopped in a half turn. He looked neutral and for some reason you felt uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dumping you, I'll be back very soon."

Jungkook didn't wait for you to answer. He walked decisively into the crowd, and you looked at his figure, that moves away, and for some reason you felt emptiness mixed with disappointment. You turned to the bar counter and wanted to hit it out of anger, but restrained yourself.

What were these strange feelings? You were in a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Why should you feel bad about Jungkook leaving? It must be a good thing. Finally, silence, finally not having to catch his mocking glances, hear that confident, deep voice that constantly provokes you. But why the hell did it feel like the air was heavier, like this place had lost some of its energy?

You took another sip of your cocktail, trying to chase that feeling away. But as soon as you closed your eyes, you saw his image. A lazy smile, a confident look that made you feel hot.

His presence creates chaos in you - he knows how to get so close that you can feel his warmth, the smell of his perfume, that slight hint of danger in his every movement. And you always try not to give yourself away, not to let him know that he is affecting you.

But at the same time, he annoys you so much that you want to hit him, yell at him, just do anything to make him disappear. You noticed that every time he leaves... emptiness spills inside, leaving behind irritation and an inexplicable desire for him to return.

You took a deep breath, biting your lip.

"Everything okay?" the bartender asked, leaning over to you.

"Yeah, just... another cocktail," you mumbled, not quite sure why you needed one.

You weren't sure how long it had been since Jungkook had left, but he hadn't returned as promised. You'd finished your cocktail and didn't hesitate to order another.

You ignored the bartender's gaze, which seemed ready to listen to your worries at any moment. You were mindlessly scrolling through your feed and Instagram when the name of the contact you least wanted to see came up on the screen.

Your mother was calling. It was late for her usual calls. It was almost 10 p.m. Not even halfway through the usual time, she called again, and you were alarmed. You dismissed her call, but she was persistent.

After rejecting three more calls from your mother, you realized that your mood was completely ruined. You finished the rest of your cocktail and went in search of your "boyfriend".

You walked away from the bar, swaying slightly. You hadn't eaten properly today and had consumed a lot of alcohol on an empty stomach.

The party was in full swing, but you weren't interested in the music or the people. You found Jungkook after walking almost all the way through the hall. He was standing off to the side with Jimin and Namjoon, deep in conversation.

Without hesitation, you walked over and took Jungkook's hand, hugged him, but he barely reacted. He just looked at you briefly, as if you didn't deserve any more attention.

His indifference made you angry, but you restrained yourself with an effort of will. A deep breath, a calm expression on your face - you're playing a role, you shouldn't care about his indifference. On the contrary, you should rejoice.

You listened to their conversation in silence, trying not to pay attention to the way his hand involuntarily slipped from yours. When the waiter approached you, you took the glass of champagne from his tray without hesitation. You felt Jungkook's gaze slide over you. Namjoon and Jimin also looked at you curiously.

You quickly drained your glass and asked:

"When are we going home?"

Jimin and Namjoon laughed at the same time.

"What, so boring?" asked Namjoon with a big smile. You looked at him indifferently.

"Yes. I’ve walked enough for today." You caught Jungkook's serious look and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"We're not going home tonight. In about an hour, we're going to the yacht with the guys, and we'll be there until morning."

You bit your lip. Your head felt a little heavy from the alcohol, and the thought of staying to party until morning was exhausting. But you knew there was no point in arguing.

"Okay," you nodded briefly and noticed to the waiter who was nearby. The guy came over, kindly offering you drinks. You reached for another glass of champagne, but this time Jungkook intercepted your hand.

"That's enough," his voice was calm but firm. You looked up at him, clearly catching something like dissatisfaction in his eyes. It pissed you off. You wanted to protest, but you stopped yourself in time, catching the glances of Jungkook's friends with a peripheral glance.

"Why?" your face remained impassive, though you were irritated inside. Jungkook leaned over a little.

"You've had enough to drink." he said. His commanding tone stabbed your heart. Who was he to control how much alcohol you drank?

"I can drink as much as I want." you answered quietly, not looking away.

"But you're already wobbly," he said coldly. "You might throw up when we're on the water, so stop."

Jimin and Namjoon watched you silently, exchanging brief glances. It was obvious that they were amused by the situation.

You sighed and, not wanting to continue the argument, just backed away a step. Jungkook continued talking to his friends, and you stepped into the phone again.

If you could, you would have just walked away, but you knew: Jungkook wouldn't allow it. He had the power in this arrangement, and you couldn't just turn around and leave whenever you wanted. The phone in your hand vibrated again. Your mother was calling again.

The warm night air greeted you with a gentle breeze as you stepped out of the car at the dock. The lanterns along the Han River cast a soft light on the water, which swayed gently under the starry sky.

Taehyung's yacht (you had learned that it was his yacht from the conversation of the girls who were traveling with you) was ready to sail, its deck lights flickering in the darkness.

A small group of people was boarding the boat - besides you and Jungkook, there were Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, and Taehyung himself and the girls who had traveled with you. They looked as if they were used to this kind of entertainment, smiling easily and flirtatiously fixing their hair.

Jin refused to go, citing an important event at his restaurant that required preparation.

"I would go, but I need to be on site tomorrow morning," he explained before leaving. "I can't afford to relax tonight."

Yoongi left even earlier, ostensibly to take Sukhi home.

"She's been at a boutique opening event all day, she's tired," he said as he was getting ready to leave.

But you weren't sure that was the whole truth. Sukhi could have just called her driver or at least taken a taxi. Yoongi didn't seem like the kind of person who would drop everything to become a personal chauffeur.

Jungkook didn't say a word to this situation, and you were curious. There's clearly something between Yoongi and Suhy, so why doesn't she want to give up her marriage to Jungkook?

"Well, is everyone on board?" Taehyung asked loudly as he walked into the captain's cabin. "Then let's go!" he commanded the man who was steering the boat.

The engine revved up, and slowly she pulled away from the shore, heading into the dark river.

The yacht glided across the water, leaving a thin silver streak behind it. The air was cool but pleasant, and you felt your whole body relax as the waves gently lapped yacht side. The evening sounds of the city slowly disappeared in the distance.

Everyone was seated on the open deck in the center. Some sat on soft armchairs, some on the sofa. You sat on the sofa, leaving room for Jungkook. As you expected, he sat down next to you, his gaze focused on the company. He still seemed indifferent to you. But from time to time he would glance at you.

You tried to ignore it. If someone suspects that there is nothing between you, and you are like two strangers, which you were in fact, then it is not your fault. You didn't have to hang around his neck when he didn't play along.

Namjoon and Jimin started laughing as they discussed something funny that had happened at one of their recent events. Hoseok joined in, and even girls you didn't know were laughing along with them, trying to pull you into their merry company. But you had no desire to plunge into the general mood.

Taehyung was sitting in the center of the group, hugging one of the girls. He was actively participating in the conversation at the table, joking and smoking a lot. But you noticed that his eyes would occasionally slide over to Jungkook and you. And although he tried to hide it, you felt an invisible tension provoked by Taehyung's watchful gaze.

Jungkook, as if sensing your tension, put his hand on the back of the couch, behind your back, and moved closer, leaving no space between you. He was arguing with Jimin about the best modification of some engines for the bike, putting his other hand on your knee.

You looked at him, but your thoughts were far away. You suddenly thought: what are you doing? Why are you here, among these people? Why do you have to be nervous about everything? You really wanted to forget, so you took a glass of whiskey and took a drink. The alcohol burned your throat, and you swallowed, savoring the expensive alcohol.

The party on the yacht was gaining momentum. Taehyung gave the command to start the music. Loud club music hit your ears.

Jungkook went to the bathroom, and you took advantage of the moment before anyone forced you to go dancing and ran away from the company.

You went to the railing of the yacht, away from the music, to enjoy the night view of Seoul. The Han River stretched out in front of you, the lights of the city reflected on the surface of the water, and everything around you seemed so peaceful, so calm.

You stood there, gazing at the horizon, feeling your body finally relax and your thoughts become lighter. You became yourself again, as if you had found a small island of silence in the midst of all this chaos.

You didn't even notice Namjoon approaching you. When his bass broke through the silence, you even flinched in surprise.

"You decided to get away from all this noise?" he asked, smiling, and nodded his whiskey hand toward the dancing boys and girls.

"Yeah. I see you were looking for some privacy too?" you smiled back. Namjoon smiled wider and you couldn't see the dimples in his cheeks. They made him even more attractive.

"Yeah. I'm not really a fan of these kinds of parties." he admitted, leaning on the railing of the yacht, gazing out at the night landscape. You turned around too, joining in the admiration of Seoul.

"Then why did you come? You could have refused," you asked. Namjoon turned his head toward you, and you reflexively looked at him as well.

"I could have, but I decided that sometimes it's useful to maintain the illusion of a social life," he laughed, glancing at the party going on nearby.

You couldn't help but laugh, he seemed to be involved with the company from the beginning, and it turned out he tolerated them, just like you.

"The illusion of social life? Oh, it must be important for your image!" you replied, smiling.

Namjoon laughed and drank his whiskey, looking at you with a joking look.

"Of course, I can't let people think that I'm just a lonely guy suffering from deep philosophical questions alone," he raised his eyebrows again, and then, strangely enough, made a serious face. "But between you and me, I'd rather be at home with a book... or a dog."

You laughed heartily again. Namjoon seemed like a typical member of the elite environment, but in fact it turned out that he loved peace and quiet.

"Are you serious? A dog and a book are your plans for the evening?" you asked, still laughing.

"Yes, I think it's the best thing in the world." he smiled again, "Why are you here? Because Jungkook wanted that?"

You turned your head too sharply. Your smile froze and slowly left your face. Namjoon raised his eyebrows in anticipation, and took another sip the honey-colored liquid.

"No," you denied his assumption, trying to remain calm. "This is my own will. If I didn't want to be here, there's no way Jungkook could have talked me into it," you said confidently, even though it was a complete lie.

Namjoon smiled slightly, but his eyes flashed with interest.

"You wanted to go home, as I recall," he said, mockingly. You looked at him in surprise, not sure how to react to his observation.

"Yeah, but that was before I heard about the yacht," you replied, turning your gaze back to the glare of the city lights on the water.

"That's right," Namjoon agreed, "Are you and Jungkook okay? It looks like you two had a fight..." His voice became more cautious, and you noticed his eyes change expression.

"Everything's fine. Why would you think that?" you asked, trying to sound confident, even though you felt anxious inside. You knew that your coldness toward each other was obvious.

Namjoon gave you a careful look as you spoke. His interest never waned, and you braced yourself for the interrogation that was obviously unavoidable.

"I don't know…At the beginning of the evening, you were holding hands, hugging, and then you barely spoke." he explained, leaning a little closer to you. You were shocked. You thought Taehyung was the one who had been following you and Jungkook, but it was Namjoon. You turned your back to the railing and leaned in, looking at Jungkook's friends. They all seem curious about your relationship.

"Everything is fine between us. I don't know why you'd think that." you said, feigning surprise. Namjoon straightened up, standing at attention. He took another sip of whiskey.

"Then forgive me, I misinterpreted your behavior." He said kindly.

"That's okay," you replied, trying to hide the fact that his words had thrown you off a bit. You hadn't expected Namjoon to watch you so closely. But what could you do? After all, it was his business if he wanted to notice something.

Namjoon finished the rest of the alcohol and leaned back against the railing of the yacht, and looked at you with a different expression in his eyes.

"I wonder how you two met?"

You wanted to roll your eyes. Only not the 'how did you meet' question. You and Jungkook haven't worked out a version of how you met, so you're going to have to improvise. Again.

"We've known each other for a long time...through work." you said, stumbling a bit. Namjoon didn't answer right away, his gaze became even more intense, and you could feel him listening intently. He smiled, shaking his head slightly.

"Work?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought it would be a more interesting story."

You felt your chest heave with tension. You had to come up with something believable.

"Yeah," you replied, trying to sound calm, "We worked on a few projects together, and somehow we... got to know each other more." You forced a smile, even though you could feel your heart beating faster. "It's really not as interesting as you'd like."

Namjoon looked at you with some doubt, but said nothing. The silence was momentarily interrupted by the sound of music from the party, but its frantic rhythm did not touch this corner of the yacht. Namjoon didn't seem to be in a hurry to ask questions, but his interest was obvious.

"So are you guys really dating or just hanging out?"

You immediately understood his question. He was directly asking if you were Jungkook's girlfriend or his 'temporary crush'.

"We're dating," you answered decisively. "And for quite a while. We've been hiding our relationship because I asked him to."

"Why did you decide to show your relationship now?" Namjoon was inquisitive, too inquisitive. You were a little annoyed.

"It was an accident, you saw what those journalists wrote about us? I asked Jungkook to come with me to a corporate party at the company where I worked. I didn't expect journalists to be there, it was a private party." you answered.

Namjoon nodded his head.

"I see. But what about Sukhi? You know who she is? His future fiancée. Doesn't that bother you?"

You felt something tighten in your chest and smiled slightly.

"He won't marry her," you answered firmly. "As far as I know him, he's never followed his parents' wishes."

Namjoon agreed.

"Yes, you're truth. Jungkook always does what he wants. But you know, it's not that simple. I don't think he can make a decision on his own this time."

You froze. You were curious to know why everyone was so sure that this marriage was inevitable.

You were so engrossed in your conversation with Namjoon that you didn't notice that Jungkook had long since returned from the restroom and was standing off to the side, watching you closely. He stopped as soon as his eyes caught sight of your figure, just as you were laughing heartily at something Namjoon said.

His jaw tensed.

That laugh... So real. So light. And not for him.

Something sharp and sharp stabbed somewhere deep inside, under his ribcage. He couldn’t explain it rationally — had no right to feel what was now filling him from the inside. His lips pressed into a thin line; he was the one who said jealousy wasn’t allowed. That was one of the rules he himself had announced. He thought he’d never break it, but the irritation boiling in him said he already had.

Now he saw the way you looked at Namjoon, the way you smiled genuinely, the way you subconsciously tilted your head a little to the side when you were curious.

And Namjoon... he kept his eyes on you. Hell, Jungkook had noticed it from the beginning. And as soon as he disappeared from view, Namjoon was right next to you.

That shouldn't have made him angry. It wasn't supposed to got to him. But with every second he stood there, something inside him exploded.

He could not allow you to smile at someone else the way you had never smiled at him. He couldn't let anyone-even his friend-think they could take your attention away from him.

He moved toward you with a determination that betrayed his true intentions. It was no longer a simple reaction. It was a hidden possessive need.

He didn't care that you had an agreement. That it was just a deal. But in this moment it’s became personal. Because now he felt that he was losing something that was his.

And he had to prove it. To show it. To stamp his mark on you, so that everyone-everyone-could understand who you belong to. Even if it meant breaking his own rule.

And that none of the other men, not even his friends, have the right to take your attention for long. He walked decisively toward you, intent on showing you whose woman you were.

You were just about to ask Namjoon why Jungkook couldn't get out of his marriage to Sukhi, when you noticed him approaching you. His gaze was intent, and his expression was somewhat tense.

As soon as he was close, Jungkook put his arms around your waist and pulled you closer without hesitation. His presence was tangible and undeniable.

"Hope I’m not interrupting anything?" he asked with a slight tinge of sarcasm in his voice, looking at you and Namjoon.

"A little bit, Namjoon and I were having such an interesting discussion about how many interests we have in common," you lied, forcing a smile.

Jungkook seemed a little annoyed, but it didn't stop him from holding you close.

"Really? Which ones?"

You thought about it for a moment, trying to think of something that would to keep Jungkook from thinking you were talking about him and to ask other questions.

Namjoon was perfect for this moment he answered for you, distracting Jungkook's attention.

"About music, movies... stuff like that," he replied calmly, showing that the conversation was nothing important. But the tension was sense in the air, even if you all didn't show it.

Jungkook, however, did not seem satisfied with the answer. He looked at you with a scrutinizing gaze that betrayed displeasure.

"One would think that you didn't even know what you two were talking about," he said, not taking his eyes off you. He blamed you for not answering first.

You quickly pressed your lips together, trying not to show your confusion. Jungkook is strange, he's been acting cold for half the evening, and now he comes and makes accusations.

Namjoon, watching in silence, felt that he needed to leave you alone, so he quietly stepped back, smiling, and said:

"I think I will go. Don't be long. I'll be waiting for you with everyone else."

He nodded a smile and walked toward the group. Namjoon go, and you feel’s a sense of missed opportunity. But you knew for sure that you would try to catch him again and ask him why Chonguk would be doomed to marry Sukhi.

Jungkook turned you around, pulling you closer. His lips came down on yours like a storm. His tongue penetrated your mouth, finding yours and terrorizing it relentlessly. You barely had the ability to respond to the kiss because Jungkook had completely taken control of you.

You wanted to pull away, taking a step back, but you were immediately pressed against the railing. You could feel the cold metal on your body, as well as Jungkook's palms squeezing your flesh.

His kiss was hard and insistent. You could taste whiskey on his tongue, which was not letting you rest.

You tried to cope with this kiss, but your heart was beating wildly, and all your thoughts were jumbled. Your hands instinctively tried to push him away, but he wouldn't let you. His fingers gently but firmly wrapped around your wrist, pinning your arms to the railing, only deepening the kiss. The feel of his body, his weight, the pressure on your lips... You felt your heart sink in your chest.

He was so insistent that you couldn't even remember the last time you felt such a lack of control over the situation. All you could do was accept his game.

"Jungkook..." you barely managed to wheeze out as he pulled away for a moment to catch your eyes with his piercing gaze. His breathing was heavy and steady, but his eyes were so thirsty that you could barely gather your thoughts.

"Is this how you play now? You didn't know how to get my attention, so you decided to make me jealous?" asked Jungkook, speaking directly into your lips. Your eyes darted around. You tried to analyze his words.

"I didn't mean to make you jealous. I just wanted to be alone, and Namjoon came over and we started talking..."

Jungkook put his finger on your lips, stopping you from finishing.

"You made me violated the rule. I have to return the favor." he filled your mouth again. You were giving up with every passing second. The wetness between your legs leaked onto your underwear. The throbbing in your upper thighs signaled that you needed more.

While you were trying to find the strength to respond, his hand had already gripped your wrist and the next moment he pulled you down with him.

He didn't hesitate to decide that right now you had to pay for making him jealous. You didn't have the strength to object, your thoughts were already confused. Jungkook quickly led you through the corridors, and soon you were on the lower deck. It was quiet here, only the soft echo of his footsteps as he led you.

Not a word, just the pressure of his hand on your arm, which seemed to be at his will. He dragged you to the restroom on the lower deck.

Jungkook closed the door behind him, and without giving you a chance to comprehend the situation, he attacked you with a kiss, unable to contain his anger. His fingers found your buttocks and squeezed them hard, showing you his intentions.

His breath was hot, his lips ruthlessly tearing the space between you, as if he couldn't stand a second without your skin. Your body collided with the countertop where the sink was located, and you felt his hands slide down your thighs, leaving no space between you.

He pulled away from you and you were both breathing heavily. He took your hand and leaned against his hard cock.

"See what you do?" you unconsciously squeezed your fingers, feeling your desire grow exponentially. You forgot that you had told Jungkook that nothing else would happen between you. Now you could only think about this moment. Jungkook felt his cock twitch.

"I..." you wanted to say something, but Jungkook had undone the button and fly of his white jeans. He took your hand in his again, but this time he buried it in his boxers.

You felt his hot flesh, and you just stopped to exist. You felt the sperm dripping from the tip of his cock, which you stroked.

Jungkook slipped his hand out of his boxers and pulled them down along with his jeans. His aroused cock came free and you could pump it freely. Jungkook took your face in his palm and smiled. His eyes were full of lust and pleasure. He kissed you and you couldn't stop moaning into his mouth.

While he was kissing you, his other hand found your pants. He slid his hand underneath them without any obstacles, finding your clit.

Now it was his turn to moan into your mouth. The amount of moisture he felt between your legs was literally making him crazy.

He ran his fingers over your clit a few times and then pushed his fingers then into your passage. Feeling very excited, you were confused for a moment. You stopped jerking off his cock, and Jungkook intercepted your hand. He put his palm on top of yours and continued to move. You smiled into his lips. He manages to do many things at once.

Jungkook plunged his fingers into your passage, but you were not satisfied. You wanted more, you could barely hold on.

He leaned his hand on the wide tabletop, and bent down close to your face. You pumped his cock, wanting to bring him to bliss. His cock was getting harder by the second.

"Do you want me to fuck you right now?" Jungkook asked, breathing heavily. His voice, low with excitement, filled every cell in your body. Yes. You wanted to.

You licked your dry lips, dragging out an answer. Jungkook let out a low moan, pleased with your handiwork.

"Tell me kitten." he demanded, "Do you want to feel my cock inside you?"

His finger at that moment went as deep into you as it was possible, as if deliberately teasing you. Because the friction of his fingers was not enough.

"Yes," you finally breathed out. "I want."

Jungkook smiled with a triumphant expression. He knew you did.

"You want..." he repeated, pulling his fingers out of your passage. He found your swollen clit and wanted to feel it on his tongue. "But you forgot... you have to beg at first."

You heard what he was saying, but you couldn't stop yourself. You were too excited. His fingers, which had been caressing your clit so well, made you want to give up. You wanted to feel his cock, and knowing how good it felt, you were ready to beg.

"Please..." you said as you exhaled. Jungkook stopped your hand from jerking him off. You opened your eyes wide, not expecting him to stop you. He kept your hands on his aroused cock and said softly.

"Please what honey?"

"Fuck me..." you begged. Jungkook hummed. He took your cheeks with his other hand, squeezing them lightly.

"Beg me better." he insisted.

"Please Kook... I want to... fuck... me." you stammered as you felt him bring you to orgasm. You were just moments away, but he abruptly pulled out the hand he had been caressing you with. He lifted his fingers to your mouth.

"Open your mouth." he ordered. You blinked, but obeyed. You barely had time to open your lips when he shoved his fingers into your mouth.

You tasted your own excitation. Jungkook watched greedily as you sucked on his fingers with your own cum. He pulled his fingers out and kissed you, filling your mouth with his tongue. Your tongues smashed against each other. He kissed you dominantly, wanting to take away the last drops of your sanity.

When Jungkook enjoyed the taste of your kiss, he pulled away for a short while. You were breathing fast, feeling so wet that the moisture could seep into your jeans.

Jungkook took off your pants. In one steady motion, he set you down on the surface near the sink. Your body pressed against the cold marble, but his hands were hot. Hotter than ever.

"I told you you'd beg me." he said as he spread your legs. He took his aroused cock in his hand and pushed aside the fabric of your thong and pressed it against your wet pussy. "I really wasn't going to touch you today," he whispered, taking in every detail of your face. His large palm cupped your hip, not allowing you to move. "But you made me do it. That's why I'm going to fuck you... like the real whore." he slammed his cock into your pussy, eliciting a soft whimper.

It's just crazy. Jungkook and his ability to get you off without even sticking his cock in you.

"But I can't help but feel that sweet clit on my tongue."

His head went down, and the very next moment you felt his hot lips touch the inside of your thigh. He was leaving marks. Possessive, predatory, ruthless. Your back arched and your fingers dug into the edge of the surface.

His kisses grew deeper. He slid his tongue over your skin, leaving trails of fire. His breath burned your inner thighs as he slowly removed your underwear.

You couldn't hold back any longer - his every action made you shudder. There were no more thoughts in your head. Only sensations. His mouth. His fingers. His boundless need to show you that he was the only one who belonged to you.

"Come on, give me everything you've got," he whispered, and his tongue gently touched your center.

You gasped for air. One long, wet stroke of his tongue made your hips shudder. He knew how to bring you to the brink - and at the same time keep you there, not letting you fall. His tongue worked rhythmically, never stopping. He kept you spread, his strong arms holding you in place, not letting you escape from this sweet madness.

"So delicious," he whispered, licking you even deeper. "I didn’t realize how much I missed this pussy."

His tongue alternated between gentleness and boldness until your back arched. Your fingers sank into his hair, your lips trembled.

"Damn..."

He smiled, continuing to caress you with his tongue until you shuddered beneath him, melting into his mouth with a soft moan. But he didn't stop.

"I'm not done," he grunted as he rose. He pulled you to the edge of the surface and took his aroused cock in his hands. It was hard and you felt him gently touch you, rubbing himself into your wetness. Jungkook stared at your face, catching every emotion.

"Do you regret making this rule? When I fucking you, you'll finally realize that your rule sucks. And don't you dare tell me after we have sex that it still applies. I'll fuck you as much as I want."

You nodded, barely understanding his words. A moment of protest flashed through your mind, but you wanted Jungkook so badly that you would go along with anything.

"You understand me?" he asked, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. You squeezed his shoulders, waiting for him to enter.

"Yes..." you confirmed.

"So you let me fucking you while we have an agreement?" he asked, somehow more gently.

"Yes, Kook..." you agreed. You didn't even want to think about the consequences of your actions right now. You would scold yourself later, but right now you didn't think about anything.

He entered you in one deep thrust. Rough. Filling you to the brim. Hugging your body from the inside. It hurt you. You shuddered from the wave of bliss. His hands grabbed you around the waist again, pressing you against him, making you feel every movement. He moved rhythmically, with a persistence that burned him from the inside.

"Fuck, that feels so good..." you whispered, losing your voice in each thrust. Jungkook finally smiled. He could feel your velvet walls squeezing him so tightly.

His movements became faster, deeper, more frantic. He bit into your shoulder, leaving a mark, a mark. His body was beating against yours, making you dissolve in this passionate dance. But he wanted to feel you from a different angle.

Jungkook pulled his cock out of you and set you down on the floor. He turned you around to face the sink. As he was bending you over to have easy access to your hole, you managed to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were red, your hair was disheveled, and your lips were swollen.

You rested your hands on the surface. Jungkook entered you again, this time more smoothly. He plunged as deeply as he could. He pressed into you as much as he could and you felt him turn on in the middle. Jungkook stroked your thighs. Then he leaned down putting his hand then on your throat. He slowly lifted you up, pressing his strong body against your back. You threw your head back, touching his shoulder.

Jungkook lifted your top, exposing your breasts. He grabbed them in his hands and squeezed them several times, satisfying his need. You moaned at his movements, at the feel of his cock in your middle.

Jungkook leaned down to your neck and bit into your skin, tightening it. You felt a slight pain, and there would be a mark there, but Jungkook didn't seem to care. He suddenly moved his hips, pulling away from your neck.

"I'll go crazy if I can't fuck that perfect pussy anymore." He whispered against your cheek. He repeated the movement with his hips.

"Kook..." you said his name. You only called him that when you were having sex. You wanted to call him that because boundaries in those moments, between your neighbor and partner-in-agreement were blurred. Jungkook liked it so much. Coming from your mouth, this contraction did not sound so cute and exciting.

Jungkook couldn't wait any longer. He's going to nailed you at last. He bent you over and gave you a few deep rhythmic thrusts and you moaned with pleasure. He drove himself rhythmically and wanted to bring you to orgasm.

You were sensitive, already pushed to the edge earlier. So it didn’t take long before the knot of bliss snapped — just within moments. You were so sweet in your climax, so trembling, so completely his… that Jungkook couldn’t hold back either.

His final thrusts grew deeper. Rougher. And he released inside you with a heavy moan, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

Both your breaths were ragged. His forehead rested against your shoulder as his body slowly stopped.

⇠ Previous ⟡ Index ➩ ⟡ Next ⇢

#jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x f!reader #jungkook imagine #bts #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #jungkook jeon #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x original character #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you

166 notes · View notes

mrs-delaney · 2 months ago

Text

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction

257 notes · View notes