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mononijikayu · 4 months ago

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ni yao de ai — ryomen sukuna.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?” And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?” Then it became bigger and bigger. One after the other, he could not shut up. He was, after all, too damn in love. “Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?” And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 6k words.

Note: i'm working on the actor nanami fic, so here is something for you to enjoy while you wait for that. also, i keep thinking about how sukuna would have been like pro-hero bakugo had he not been dating reader. like, he would be so good at volleyball, but he would be so eager to be blunt about absolutely everything and just be so crass, you know??? anyway, our sukuna managed to not be like that, cause he's #1 lover boy first. enjoy this!!! see you in a couple days!! i love you!!! <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

lovesick playlist

THIS WAS NOT OUT OF THE ORDINARY NOWADAYS, FOR YOU TO SIT HERE. Your long-time boyfriend, professional volleyball player Ryomen Sukuna, has always been a bit of a big deal. Well, you try to not make it to be but you both know that it is.

He was undeniably talented, incredibly confident, and dangerously charismatic. But it wasn’t until this past year, when he officially made Japan’s national team and became their standout player, that his star practically exploded.

And with that… came you.

You didn’t ask for it at all. The attention, the headlines, the fan-cams. However, by virtue of loving Sukuna, you had become a fair bit of a participant in his stardom. And it wasn’t like Sukuna did it on purpose.

Well, actually he kind of did. Because if there was one thing about your boyfriend, it was that he never shied away from publicly loving you. In fact, he leaned in. Hard.

And you?

You could never say no to him when he asked. Ever. Because you loved him as he is, and that includes loving you. And if supporting him meant occasionally being pulled into the spotlight alongside him. Well… you’d do it a million times over. That’s how much you loved him.

It started small at first.

Little moments here and there.

Well, he tried to ease you into it.

Like when Sukuna played his first international match for Japan, and you sat quietly in the front row with his family. You thought you were being lowkey, just there to support your love. But the cameras caught you. Multiple times. Your face blown up on the jumbotron — smiling, proud, hands clasped in silent prayer every time he served.

Sukuna noticed you on the screen mid-game, and instead of ignoring it like any normal athlete would. And then he would go on and smirk. Then almost like he can’t help it, he winked at you. On live television. You damn near sank into the earth.

The clip instantly blew up on Twitter.

Everyone on the internet lost its mind.

Suddenly there were viral captions like:

“When the national team’s ace makes eye contact with his girl mid-game and winks?????”

“The way he’s SO unapologetically in love I’m crying.”

“The girlfriend has MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY I’m obsessed.”

And you? You just wanted to disappear.

Ryomen Sukuna, on the other hand, ate it up.

“You see how they love us, babe?” he grinned later that night, scrolling through TikTok edits of you two.

“My love, I was literally just sitting there.”

“Nahhh, you were the cutest girlfriend alive.”

“Stop watching the videos, I look like I was going to hurl because of nervousness.”

“Nope. I’m obsessed with us. Sorry, babe.”

But then it started escalating. Almost too quickly. The more Ryomen Sukuna won on the national stage. And the more the media realized he could not shut up about you. The more you started to become a topic. At first, it was small questions during post-game conferences.

“We saw you look up at your girlfriend after that game-winning spike. What was running through your head?”

And Sukuna, grinning like a fool. “Ahhh, just hoping she’s proud of me, you know?”

Then it became bigger and bigger.

One after the other, he could not shut up.

He was, after all, too damn in love.

“Your girlfriend’s reaction went viral after your match. Do you watch those clips together?”

And Sukuna, without missing a beat. “Hell yeah, we do. I send her all my favorite edits. Couple goals, you know?”

And suddenly you were trending on Twitter at every single match.

People started calling you “Japan’s National Team Girlfriend”.

There were TikToks like “POV: You’re dating an Olympic-level volleyball player and he’s obsessed with you”. Someone even made a fan account dedicated to you. Some people are making fan accounts about the two of you. It was just insane.

You were horrified about it.

You never expected this.

Sukuna, however, was thriving.

“Babe, you’re famous now.”

“I am just—this is crazy, my love. I didn’t think this for myself.”

“Too bad. You’re dating a national treasure. That makes you one too.”

“You're the only national treasure here, not me—”

“Wrong. We’re a package deal. We always have been, babe.”

“Well, fuck. Looks like I gotta know how to deal with this.” You sighed, leaning into the couch. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I love you so much.” He says, looking at you with those warm loving eyes. “Very much.”

You sighed, moving close to lean into him. “I love you too. Very much.”

And then, of course, came the Vogue interview soon after that.

Sukuna got asked to do a pre-Olympic feature for Vogue Japan. It was going to be a full-blown video interview and magazine spread to highlight him as the country’s volleyball superstar heading to his first Olympic Games.

You didn’t think much of it at first—until Sukuna casually mentioned. “They wanna do a segment with you, too.”

You froze. “Wait. What?”

“Yeah, you know….like those….interviews we watch.” Sukuna said it, like it was the most casual thing. “Like a couples segment. You know. Cute shit.”

“Okay, but this is insane. I don’t think I’m good enough to be interviewed for a magazine like Vogue.”

“Yes, you are. You’re the most beautiful and smartest person in the world, like the coolest. How could you not be in the magazines?”

“You’re just saying this cause you’re biased.”

“So?” He snickered, leaning closer to you like a cat to his owner. “Isn’t my opinion the only thing that matters?”

“My love, please—”

“Babe, come on. It’ll be fun. Just some quick questions. I’ll be right there with you.”

“Are you sure you want me there?”

“I always want you with me.” He whispers to you, eyes adoringly looking at you. Almost begging. “Please come with me.…I’ll make it worth your while later.”

You can’t say no to him. Not like this. Not ever. You sighed. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

And so, here you are now, right beside your boyfriend, in this studio.

The massive studio hummed with quiet energy. You could feel the subtle buzz of camera equipment, the low chatter of the production crew, and the muffled thuds of footsteps as people flitted around making last-minute adjustments.

Despite the growing tension in the room, there was one person who looked like he couldn’t be less bothered and that was Ryomen Sukuna himself. Your beloved Sukuna is now Japan’s top star volleyball player right now.

The man who was about to debut in his very first Olympic Games. And yet he sat there like he was in his living room, entirely unruffled by the cameras or the fact that the world was about to have their eyes glued on him.

To him, this was just like any other day. It was nothing special, nothing worth that much of a fuzz. It’s media day. Well, of course he was with you. That was always something that made him happy.

But the occasion in itself just as it was, like on all work days.

It truly did make sense for him to be like that.

After all, Sukuna had been through enough media circus for the past few years. With all the pre-game conferences, after-game interviews, constant media coverage during training camps.

By now, cameras had become like background noise to him. Even though he wasn’t the most camera-savvy person, he had long accepted that it came with the job. As much as you have.

Though, you know it was just still so insane. This level of fame was not something you expected to see. But well, what can you do? Your boyfriend is an ace at anything he does, and he always will be.

So here he was now, gold chain glinting under the bright studio lights, his long arm draped casually behind your chair as if he had all the time in the world. His thumb, rough, calloused from years of playing was tenderly brushed the curve of your shoulder absentmindedly, warm and familiar. His long legs were spread obnoxiously wide, his knee brushing against yours like it belonged there.

You, however, were fighting down a giggle like you did when you were both younger. It wasn’t fair how good he looked in front of the camera. Your Sukuna was in his official team Japan tracksuit, sleeves shoved up to his elbows, exposing his tattooed forearms.

His messy pink hair was styled back, just enough for his sharp jawline to be obnoxiously prominent and his signature smug grin made it look like he had already won gold before even stepping onto the court.

And then like he could feel you staring, Sukuna leaned toward you.

You raised a brow as you finally noticed his ruby eyes tender on you.

“What? There something on my face?”

“Bet I can answer faster than you, babe.” His voice dropped low, just for you to hear, the gravel in his tone sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

You snorted, glancing at him. “Yeah, okay. Just don’t embarrass me, my love.”

His grin sharpened, canines flashing. “No promises, babe.”

You groaned to yourself.

You were so screwed.

He’s competitive even on this.

The interviewer settles in her seat across from you both, a friendly smile on her face. “Alright, we’re rolling!” she calls out. “Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The crew claps behind the camera and you and Sukuna stand up, quickly bowing your heads lowly to everyone in the room, greeting them politely one by one. The crew did the same, with eyes full of awe as they both looked at you two as you sat down.

“Alright, hello everyone!” the interviewer finally smiled, straightening in her seat. “We’re here today with Ryomen Sukuna, Japan’s powerhouse volleyball player heading to his very first Olympic Games — and we’ve got his longtime girlfriend, [Your Name], who is also a Astrophysics researcher joining us today!”

Sukuna perked up a little at that introduction, his grin widening. “Renowned, huh?” He turned to you, his voice dropping low, teasing. “Damn, babe. Are you that famous now, my baby?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting down a smile. “Says the Olympic athlete. Let’s not do this, please.”

The interviewer laughed. “We are so excited to have you both here. Thank you for making time despite your hectic schedules — especially you, [Your Name]. I imagine taking a break from Astrophysics research work isn’t easy?”

“Oh—” you started, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I really shouldn’t have gotten a break. I was actually supposed to have a research advisory today…”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brows raising. “Wait—what?”

You blinked. “…Huh, what?”

“You never told me that. I thought you just got permission.” Sukuna scoffed, his head tilting. “Babe, you really have a major advisory today? How the hell did you get off work?”

“Ohhh, yeah…” you cringed, rubbing the back of your neck. “Yeah… funny thing about that.”

The interviewer’s interest piqued. “Oh?”

You hesitated and then bit back a smile. “So… My head researcher’s daughter is actually a huge fan of Sukuna. Like, borderline obsessed.”

Sukuna’s brows shot higher. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” you chuckled sheepishly. “And when they found out I was doing this interview with him, my boss was like, ‘Yeah, just get me his autograph and I’ll look the other way on you missing the advisory.’”

Sukuna immediately cackled. “Really? That’s damn hilarious.”

“Swear to god, it's crazy in there when it comes to you.” you laughed, sinking a little in your seat. “He told me, ‘If you get me a video of him saying hi to my daughter, I’ll even let you off the hook for the paperwork you forgot to pass last week.’”

“Babe.” Sukuna turned his entire body toward you, his grin practically ear-to-ear. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier? That’s easy. Just give me a pen later—hell, I’ll record her a whole-ass personalized video.”

You scoffed, blushing. “Oh my god, no—you don’t have to do that much—”

“Nahhh, I gotchu, babe, don’t worry.” Sukuna grinned mischievously, already plotting. “I’ll make her dad look like a hero. Gonna be like: ‘Hey princess, your dad is the real MVP for letting your fave’s girlfriend skip work today to give you content.’”

You smacked his arm, mortified. “Oh my god, you are so insane.”

The production crew lost it almost immediately.

The interviewer covered her mouth, laughing.

“I’m serious!” Sukuna laughed, scarlet eyes crinkling. “You know how many brownie points that’ll get you at work? You could literally ghost them for a week and they’ll still cover for you.”

“Oh my god, stop—”

“And the paperwork you forgot?” Sukuna shot you a playful smirk. “I’ll just sign it with ‘Ryomen Sukuna’s girlfriend is a genius, give her a raise.’ Boom. Problem solved.”

“RYOMEN SUKUNA.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” Sukuna raised his hands in surrender. “Just don’t call me that, okay? You know what my name is.”

The interviewer was crying. “I am so sorry, I can’t breathe—you guys are adorable.”

You slumped in your seat, burying your face in your hands. “I’m never living this down.”

Sukuna just laughed harder, his hand finding your thigh and giving it a warm squeeze. “Nah, you’re good, babe. I’ll make sure you’re employee of the month after this.”

The interviewer, trying to recover. “W-well! We really appreciate you being here, [Your Name]. Seriously. It's not every day we get a literal astrophysicist and an Olympic athlete in the same room.”

“Oh no, I should be the one thankful!” you stammered, still flustered from Sukuna’s antics. “Thank you for having me here with my love. Honestly, it’s such a privilege.”

Sukuna practically preened. “Her love. You guys heard that, right?”

You smacked his arm. “Oh god, don’t even start.”

“Too late, babe.” Sukuna grinned smugly, leaning back in his chair. “I’m riding that high all day. Like, that’s from the one I love right there. I’m riding this forever.”

“You can’t just—” You lower your face to your hands, feeling yourself warm. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t get embarrassed so fast!”

“I’m trying hard not to!”

The interviewer was now fully crying from laughing.

And you? You were about two seconds away from melting into the floor from sheer secondhand embarrassment.

You just can’t believe he’s like this today.

“So, uh, are you guys ready for some quickfire ten-second questions?” She asks as you finally recover, lifting your head.

Sukuna cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Easy. We’ve been together more than a decade or so. I can ace this.”

You scoff. “You’re gonna overthink everything.”

Sukuna feigns offense. “Excuse you? I’m very decisive.”

The interviewer laughs. “Alright, let’s put that to the test. First question: Sukuna, what’s your favorite pre-game meal?”

“Ramen.” he says instantly. Then, a beat later, “Wait. No. Her curry. Yeah, yeah. That one….the spicy one. Final answer.”

Your mouth drops open. “Are you serious? I thought you hated it.”

He grins smugly. “It’s true. I loved it all. Took another plate after you left. Your food hits different, you know?"

You roll your eyes but can’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “O–okay, I guess.”

The interviewer beams. “Cute. Okay, [Your Name], what’s his go-to post-game routine?”

“Oh, easy.” you say, straight-faced. “Complaining about his back. Then how he doesn’t like how Gojo Satoru took that line shot at him at a game. Take a ridiculously long, hot shower. He has a beer before we eat dinner. Then aggressively demands my cuddles.”

Sukuna sputters at you. “Aggressively?!”

You arch a brow. “You corner me in the kitchen. Every time.”

He throws his head back in a laugh, his large hand sliding to your knee. “Okay, fine. Fair point.”

The interviewer chuckles. “Alright, Sukuna — who’s the first person you call after a big win?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “Her. Always her. And she picks up, even mid-experiment.”

Your chest tightens, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You’re too much.”

“Hey, I really do call you the most after every match.”

“And after a loss?” she presses.

Sukuna leans slightly toward you, his arm shifting so his hand now rests protectively on your thigh. “Also her. But I’m significantly more annoying.”

You snort. “So much pouting. He becomes, like, unbearable.”

Sukuna gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “Unbearable?! I’m mourning, babe!”

“You’re sulking. Just like right now.”

“Same thing!”

The interviewer is practically doubled over laughing. “I love this dynamic. Okay, favorite thing about each other — go.”

Sukuna’s answer is immediate. “Her laugh. Hands down. Best sound in the world.”

Your heart lurches, face instantly heating. “Oh my god, shut up—”

“No, like dead serious, babe.” he interrupts, his smile softening. “Could be having the worst day ever, and if she laughs? I’m good.”

You smack his arm, your face now an embarrassing shade of red. “You’re being gross on camera!”

Sukuna shrugs, unbothered. “Truth is truth, babe.”

The interviewer melts. “Okay, your turn, [Your Name].”

You stammer, still flustered. “Uhh—” you scramble to think of something non-cheesy, but instead, your mouth betrays you. “The way he always warms his hands before touching my face.”

Sukuna freezes. “…Huh?”

You blink. “…What?”

“That’s your favorite thing?” he asks, blinking at you like you’d just dropped a bombshell.

You squirm. “I mean, yeah. You do it all the time. Like, even if we’re just watching a movie or something — you always warm your hands first. It’s cute.”

The grin that spreads across Sukuna’s face is devastating. “You’re so obsessed with me.”

You physically groan. “Oh my god, shut up.”

The interviewer is practically swooning. “This is the cutest thing ever—okay, okay, next one. Sukuna, if you could steal any skill from your girlfriend, what would it be?”

“Her patience.” he deadpans.

You burst out laughing. “What?”

“No, like actually, I really think you mastered it so much.” he insists, leaning forward. “You have no idea how insane she is at staying calm. Like, I’ll be losing my mind over a game or a bad practice, and she’ll just—” he waves his hand, mimicking your nonchalant demeanor, “‘Okay, babe, it’s fine. You’ll win next time.’ Like. What the hell? Where do you get that?”

You’re dying of laughter. “It’s called balance, my love.”

“It’s witchcraft.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Then learn it.”

He laughs at your words. “No, but I’m genuine about this. My girl can sit there and deal with a long day where her research yields bad results and do it again even though it takes long. And come home to me sulking and just know how to be just as patient.”

You looked at him, eyes full of love. “You’re so….I love you. Just a lot.”

He smiles back at you. “Love you too, babe.”

The interviewer sighed, whimsically. “I love you two so much. Okay, final question—and you both have to answer this.” She leans in dramatically. “What’s the very first thing you’ll do if you win gold at the Olympics?”

Sukuna’s cocky grin is instant. “Kiss her. On live TV.”

Your jaw drops “‘kuna, my love! Don’t just say that!”

“What?” he laughs, utterly shameless. “Manifesting, babe.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Your boyfriend snickers. “Yeah, you say that now but you’re gonna make out with me after this—”

“Oh my god, not here!”

The interviewer howls with laughter. “And what about you, [Your Name]?”

You glare at Sukuna but ultimately sigh in defeat. “I guess… I’ll let him.”

Sukuna beams, victorious. “See? Obsessed with me. You were lying earlier, hm? Saying you won’t and now here you are, you admit the truth. I am so vindicated.”

You slap his arm, but you’re grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. “You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, but I am your annoyance. That's my happy life right there, being loved by you like that.”

The interviewer shakes her head, still giggling. “I swear, if you actually win gold and kiss her on live TV, I’ll play this clip everywhere.”

Sukuna’s arm curls around your shoulder, pulling you in. “You better be ready, babe. I’m serious.”

And the terrifying part? You can already picture it. Because you know that he can do it. He can win it all just like that. You could see the gold medal around his neck, the camera zooming in, and Ryomen Sukuna turning straight to you with that same smug grin before sweeping you off your feet.

You purse your lips into a flat line, blushing. “Yeah, yeah…..I’m prepared.”

The interview finally wraps up there.

You’re still a little dazed. The cameras, the lights, the overly intimate questions about your relationship—but Ryomen Sukuna? He still looks happy, still completely unbothered. Like he lives for this. Which, you suppose, he does.

His arm never leaves your shoulder as you stand to shake hands with the Vogue team, his thumb still brushing absentminded circles against your skin. And just as you think you can finally slink away into the background, done with all the attention, Ryomen Sukuna pulls you right back in.

“Babe, c’mon.” he murmurs, his mouth brushing your temple. “Stay for the photoshoot.”

You blink. “What?”

“The shoot. They’re doing my Olympic feature photoshoot now.” He grins like he already knows how this will go. “Hang around for a bit.”

Your eyes narrow. “I thought this part was just you?”

“It is.”

“Then why do you need me here?”

“Moral support.” he says with a teasing smirk. “Also, you look really cute today, and I need you to stand there and be hot while I take photos.”

You gawk. “My love…..”

“What?” He shrugs, pulling you even closer as he starts walking toward the set. “I’m serious. Just stand off to the side, babe. I’ll behave.”

You have exactly zero trust in that promise. But you sigh and let him tug you along anyway. Because at the end of the day, you can’t say no to him. You never could. Not then and certainly not now. That’s just how much you loved the man.

So you do stay. But you try your hardest to stay out of the way. This is just for him, and only for him. You shouldn’t meddle. This isn’t for you. You do not want to get involved. So you make sure he sees you but sees you preoccupied, as you take food from the snack pile and coffee from the coffee machine.

The photoshoot setup is expansive. There were grand lighting rigs, enormous backdrops, a team of stylists fussing over Sukuna’s hair and clothes. He’s already swapped his casual attire for his Japan national team uniform, crisp and iconic in its red and white.

And good god, you were stunned.

He looks obscenely good, even better than normal.

You were just hypnotized.

Like, you can definitely say that it's an actual deity-tier sort of beauty. Tall and lean, the muscles in his arms and thighs practically sculpted. His sharp features and dark tattoos look even more striking against the stark white backdrop. And the way he carries himself. It was that dangerous, unbothered confidence that had the photographers practically swooning as much as you were already.

You stand quietly off to the side, as you stuff yourself with snacks. You were doing your best to stay unnoticed and so far so good. But the moment Sukuna locks eyes with you from across the room, in the middle of his solo shoot, you already know you’re already fucked.

Because he grins. That stupid, sharp, predatory grin.

And you just know something is going to happen.

Because, you know that look on his face.

He’s about to pull some bullshit.

“Alright, Sukuna — tilt your chin up a bit. Perfect, perfect — can we get some more intensity in those scarlet eyes?”

He obliges easily, shifting his stance. For a few moments, you think you’re in the clear. Maybe he’ll actually behave. Maybe he’ll just get through his shoot without doing anything that would just throw you off your horses.

“Hey.” Sukuna suddenly calls out — loud enough for the entire set to hear. His gaze zeroes in on you. “Can she come here real quick?”

Your stomach drops.

The entire team turns to look at you.

Your soul leaves your body.

“I swear to god…..” you hiss, mortified. “No—”

“C’mon, babe.” he grins. “Just real quick. Just one picture.”

The photographer, looking intrigued, asks, “Wait — are you talking about her?”

“Yeah. Of course I’m talking about her.” Sukuna says smoothly. “That’s my girl.”

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

You try to melt into the floor. “My love, no—”

“Babe, come on.” he says, mockingly sweet, “I thought you were here for moral support? Come on, just one picture. I won’t even ask them to include it in the spread.”

The team just absolutely loves what’s happening right now. They’re already whispering to each other, eyes lighting up with interest. One of the assistants, who was clearly a hopeless romantic, suddenly gasps, “Oh my god, can we get her in a couple of shots?”

“No, no, no you don’t have to.” you stammer, mortified. “I-I’m not part of the shoot—”

“You are now, babe.” Sukuna smirks, already striding over to grab your hand.

“My love, I’m not even— I didn’t sign anything—”

“Babe, relax.” he murmurs, tugging you right into the center of the set like it’s nothing. “You’re not doing a solo shoot. Just stand next to me. That’s it.”

The photographer, gleeful, immediately jumps in: “Oh my god! Yes, yes, yes. Let’s do a few couple shots. Just casual. We can get a few ‘power couple’ frames, I love this.”

“No, please, it’s not fair to you all or him.” you say, panicked. “It’s his shoot, I’m not supposed to—”

Sukuna grins down at you. “C’mon, babe. What’s one photo?”

You glare. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” He tugs you even closer. “C’mon, let me show off my pretty girlfriend a little. Please?”

“…I hate you so much.”

The next twenty minutes are the most unhinged photoshoot of your life.

It starts simple. Ryomen Sukuna standing tall in his Olympic uniform, with you just casually next to him. He’s still smug and composed, while you try your best to look like you belong there. But then it escalates, as it always does with him.

“Can you put your arm around her waist?” the photographer asks.

Sukuna immediately complies, almost too gleefully, you might add, as he was pulling you flush against his side, his arm curling snug around your lower back.

“Actually, can you lean down and nuzzle into her neck a bit? Just natural intimacy.”

You really could feel your soul just saying a hail mary and saying goodbye for good. Your Sukuna doesn’t even hesitate. His mouth brushes your temple, his nose drags against your skin, and he actually whispers in your ear: “Told you you’d be in this shoot, babe.”

“I hate you so much, like a lot. Right now.” you grit, cheeks burning.

“You love me, a lot. I can tell.” he grins. “Like look at that bright eyed love!”

“Can we get one with her in front of him? Like, you know, back to his chest?” The director suddenly says.

You barely have time to react before Sukuna’s already wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chin resting atop your head. His long fingers splay warmly across your stomach, deliberately making the pose look far too intimate.

The camera shutter goes crazy.

And then—the final blow from the director:

“Okay, for the last shot—Sukuna, can you kiss her?”

Your brain explodes. “WHAT—”

“Ohhh, I think I can.” Sukuna drawls, thrilled. “Hang on.”

“I swear to god, you can’t just—my love!”

Too late for any arguments, he’s made up his mind. His hand slides up to your jaw, his thumb tilting your chin just slightly. And then, without a hint of shame, he leans down and kisses you. Right there. On the set. With the cameras flashing like crazy.

It’s not even a small kiss. It’s full and lingering. It’s passionate and hot and burning. It was the type of kiss that only belongs to you two. Yet you don’t push him away or pull away. Instead, you let his hand cup the edge of your face, his mouth molds against yours, and you feel his stupid grin against your lips.

The photographer practically screams. “Oh my god, that was too good! That was just perfect!”

You finally part from him. But it took you a bit before you were back down to earth from the spellbound trip to love. “You are so annoying, I swear!”

“Babe.” he says, smug as hell. “I think we just sold out this magazine issue.”

“I’m going to kill you, that was too passionate! That’s just for us—"

“Please. You’re gonna frame these photos later.”

“Ugh, no I won’t!”

“You so will.”

And when the photos do come out, everything just shifts in the world. The entire internet loses its mind over Japan’s national volleyball ace and his head-over-heels-in-love girlfriend like he always is, you realize, miserably, that Ryomen Sukuna was absolutely right.

Because you do, in fact, frame one of the photos.

Well, almost all the photos you got.

And what does Ryomen Sukuna do?

He never shuts up about it.

══════════════════

epilogue

The group chat video call came in less than five minutes after the interview aired. You barely had time to process the fact that the clip of you and Sukuna had already exploded on social media — like a firestorm-level viral.

Your phone was pinging nonstop with texts, notifications, and Twitter mentions of people collectively losing their minds over “Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF” like it was the rom-com of the century. Like it was the most important trope out there.

And just when you thought you could quietly crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment…

Incoming Video Call: “Menaces + Nanami (we tolerate him)”

“Oh my god no—”

“Babe, answer it!” Sukuna grinned, already stretching his long arm to grab your laptop. “I need to see what they’re about to say.”

“Sukuna, I’m literally not ready for this shit—”

“You’re literally adorable, babe. Don’t worry!” Sukuna smirked, already clicking Accept. “Let me enjoy my W.”

The call connected. Chaos immediately erupted.

Gojo Satoru (Camera OFF): “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Geto Suguru (Camera ON):

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—”

Nanami Kento (Camera ON):

“…Are you all seriously screaming?”

Itadori Yuuji (Camera ON):

“BROOOOOO THEY WENT SO HARD IN THAT INTERVIEW OH MY GODDDD!”

Fushiguro Megumi (Camera ON, Visibly Unamused):

“…I’m logging off.”

Gojo Satoru (Camera ON, Appearing Out of Nowhere):

“NO YOU’RE NOT, MEGUMI— OH MY GOD YOU TWO WERE INSANE.”

You immediately face planted onto the table, groaning. “Kill me. Just kill me now.”

“Babe, why? You were really cool!” Sukuna laughed, wrapping an arm around you. “This is literally my proudest moment.”

“Oh my god, this is just so—” You groaned.

“Bro. Bro, oh my god.” Itadori was crying. “Sukuna. The way you said ‘Her love. You guys heard that, right?’ I— I fell off my couch cheesing, bro. You haven’t changed!”

“RIGHT?!” Gojo practically screeched. “And then he was going like ‘I’ll get you employee of the month, babe.’ I almost died! This was so—I can’t even explain it!”

Sukuna was thriving. His grin stretched wide, his canines flashing. “Ayyyeeee, you finally got it Gojo! You got someone, so you understand right? You see how I held her down? Boyfriend of the year.”

“You really are, bro!”

“My love, stoppppp!” you wailed dramatically.

“Nah, babe. Let me cook from boyfriend to husband!”

“Okay but REAL TALK. [Your Name]. Explain to me why your head researcher just casually let you off work because his daughter’s a fan of Sukuna.Also, how the hell are there fans of Sukuna?” Geto Suguru says as he munches on his popcorn.

“Taking offense to that last part, Geto.”

“Hahaha, I don’t care!”

You groaned harder. “I really don’t know. But it worked. I mean, people are asking me for Sukuna’s autographs for their kids at the research facility.”

“No, cause that’s wild, actually.” Suguru laughed. “Your literal superior was like, ‘Get me his autograph and you can skip work.’ That’s insane. I wish I could do that.”

“Well you could had you gone to the same research dept as me.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna work there. Your deadlines are crazy.”

“Hey, my influence is really good for her right now!” Sukuna grinned, leaning into you smugly. “I’m basically her office’s MVP. They should name a telescope after me, if I’m being honest.”

“That’s not what I'm working on right now! That’s the other team!”

“Eh, same thing.”

“The Ryomen Sukuna Space Observatory, nice ring to it.” Gojo said dreamily. “Iconic.”

“Guys, really.”

“I would like to formally request to be excluded from this narrative.” Nanami Kento deadpans as he puts away his paperwork.

“Oh shut up, Kento. Are you still acting tsundere after all this time?” Gojo cackled. “You enjoyed it.”

“No. I did not.”

“Then why’d you text me ‘how did Sukuna–san improve in comedy? he’s hilarious.’ right after it aired?”

Nanami froze. “I did not do that—”

“YOU DID TOO!” Itadori gasped loudly. “I saw the receipts, senpai. You can’t just lie about that!”

“Lies.”

“Don’t deny it!”

“I will deny it, there’s no proof.”

“…Sukuna–senpai, I have to say, you being in love still after all this time really made me cringe.”

Gojo Satoru lost it. He almost fell off his chair, laughing. “That’s so—what the, that’s so—”

“See? People do cringe when you go lovey-dovey!” You tease him, and then laugh as you lean against him.

“Wow, didn’t know that’s your true feelings about me, babe.” Sukuna scoffed, faking offense as he playfully rolled his eyes. “No love for the Olympic boyfriend, huh?”

“You sounded like a sickeningly in love golden retriever, and it was disturbing.”

Sukuna snorted. “If I still had the privilege to order you one hundred laps, I would.”

“Hm, but you don’t.”

“All because you’re jealous. How’s your date yesterday? Bad like last time?”

Megumi recoiled like he’d been shot. “Senpai, that’s so—”

“Nahhh, I get it, Megs. Cause I’d be mad too if I was third-wheeling greatness like this, while I’m waiting on Cupid to give me luck.” Sukuna gestured grandly to you and himself. “It’s hard out here.”

“I hate you.”

“Don’t be mad, bro. Just manifest your own [Your Name].”

“I swear to god, senpai.”

“Again, manifest. Hell, I’ll even help you. My sister’s into you—”

“No, thanks.”

“Okay but can we talk about how senpai just easily offers the autograph AND the video like it's nothing?” Yuuji enthusiastically says, smiling from ear to ear.

“REAL! Like, this is so crazy. ” Gojo gasped. “He just casually said ‘I’ll make your boss look like a hero, babe.’”

“Bro is so down bad, man.” Geto snickers, drinking his beer. “Everyone’s losing their shit everywhere.”

“And then he was like, ‘yeah don’t worry, I’ll help sign your paperwork.’’” Yuuji grows louder, more enthusiastic than before. “I can’t believe people are seeing it more closely like this. You’re a lucky lady, senpai!”

“Yeah, who can say they have such a long loving thriving relationship, no?” Gojo teases, as he leans on the screen. “LIke, people are jealous!”

“Guys, please!” you howled, your head hitting the table as your face turned scarlet. “PLEASE STOP—”

“SU-KU-NAAAAA–SENPAIIIIII!” Yuuji screamed, clapping. “You’re built differently, man. This is why you’re not bitchless!”

“This is why you follow in my footsteps, Itadori.” Sukuna laughs proudly. “You will only end your suffering if you follow me. That goes for you, Nanami, Fushiguro.”

“No thanks.” Nanami and Fushiguro say, almost at the same time.

“Nah, cause now that I think about it….my girl’s gonna expect me to do well too, Sukuna.” Gojo says, rubbing his chin. “That’s such a cruel move, Sukuna!”

“Hey, I love my girl as easily as breathing.” Sukuna raises his beer can, like cheers. He grins. “Good luck. I’m here if you need tips.”

“…The fact that this interview is already at 4 million views is baffling.” Nanami whispers as he looks at his phone. “It was just released an hour ago.”

Your head snapped up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh yeah, it’s viral now.” Megumi deadpanned. “It’s already trending. Twitter’s obsessed with you two.”

“Yup, yup.” Itadori confirmed. “Hashtag ‘Astrophysicist GF x Olympic Athlete BF’ is number one right now.”

“YOU’RE LYING.”

“Dead serious.”

“My love.” you whirled on him, horrified. “What did you do?”

Sukuna, entirely unbothered: “Won.”

“Bro, people are literally shipping you two like it’s a Netflix rom-com.” Gojo snickers, sighing. “I want mine to be like that.”

“Right?” Suguru agreed. “And they’re already calling you ‘The only loverboy to ever loverboy’ which is kinda crazy to say about Ryomen Sukuna.”

Yuuji sighed. “But it fits, don’t you think? He loves his girl.”

Sukuna beamed. “As they should.”

You were spiraling. “I can’t go back to work like this. They’re gonna tease me—”

“No, babe, you’re good.” Sukuna said smugly. “You literally got immunity. They’re too obsessed with me now.”

“OH MY GODDDD.”

“…So when exactly did you two sign up for a publicized rom-com?” Nanami asks.

“Bro, right?” Gojo laughed. “Next thing you know Sukuna’s proposing on live TV after winning gold.”

Sukuna gasped dramatically. “Wait. That’s fire, actually.”

“Hey, don’t you dare!” you screamed.

“Imagine it, though!” Gojo egged on. “He wins gold. Camera zooms in. Sukuna pulls you onto the court. Boom. Proposal.”

“Don’t give him ideas, Gojo Satoru!”

Geto cackles. “Nah, once you give Sukuna ideas and he likes it, he’s not gonna change his mind.”

“Write that down, bro!” Itadori gasped.

“Oh, I will!” Sukuna grinned.

“Ryomen Sukuna, I swear to god—”

“Hey, hey, slow down. That’s not my name.”

“I’m not stopping until you say you won’t do that.”

“Here me out, let me cook on this idea, like this is a really good idea. Come on!”

“No!”

1K notes · View notes

neferaskingdom · 2 months ago

Text

♡ Too Precious | LN4

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Lando loves the party life. She prefers quiet nights in. When their differences start to build, so does the tension.

A/N: This is part of my Playlist Roulette series, where I shuffle my playlists and write a story inspired by the first song that pops up. This story is inspired by the song Too Precious by Em Beihold.

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

'Cause according to you, I'm too precious You're wishin' that I was more reckless You're wishin' that I would smoke 'til I'm high And play with the guys, regret this You're wishin' that I was more trouble Sorry for being a struggle I do what I want and may not be your type Sorry I can't be a person you like

Lando had always been the type to take things too far.

He lived for the noise. Loud music, louder people, places where the drinks never stopped flowing and sleep was something you caught on a plane. It was easier that way. Fill every second, don’t let your mind slow down enough to catch up.

Since he was sixteen, life had been a blur of tracks and cameras and fake smiles at dinners with sponsors. So when the weekends came, when the pressure finally let up, he wanted to feel like he had some control. He wanted to drink, to laugh too hard, to forget.

And at first, she hadn’t minded. She was different from everyone else in his circle. Calm. Private. Comfortable in silence. Lando had thought it was refreshing. Being with Lando meant fast flights to Ibiza, impulsive parties, nights where the sunrise came too soon. But the novelty wore off. Now she just felt tired. Like she was always trying to catch up to a version of him that wouldn’t sit still. She’d thought maybe he’d slow down for her. He thought she’d go along with him.

They were both wrong.

"Just try it," he said, holding out the glass. "It’s literally one drink."

She didn’t even look at it. "I’m fine."

"You always say that."

"And I always mean it."

Lando leaned back against the kitchen counter, the glass still in his hand. "You’re kind of allergic to fun, aren’t you?"

She glanced up, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

He took a sip and shrugged. "Nothing. Just... you’re too precious sometimes."

She blinked, like she wasn’t sure she heard him right. "Too precious?"

"Yeah." He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Too good for all this. For drinks, for staying out past midnight, for letting loose like the rest of us."

She crossed her arms. "That’s not fair."

"It’s not an insult."

"It sounds like one."

Lando tossed the rest of his drink back, ignoring the way her face tightened.

"I’m not going to pretend I’m into something I’m not. That’s not fair to either of us."

He pulled back slightly. "Right. Of course. You're too precious."

"Stop saying that."

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Why? If the label fits."

Another night, another party.

She sat in the corner of the room, watching him move through the crowd like he belonged to everyone. He was surrounded by friends, or at least people who laughed when he made a joke and handed him a joint without asking questions.

One of the guys passed it to her.

"I’m good," she said quickly, waving it away.

Lando saw from across the room and walked over, slightly buzzed and way too confident.

"Come on," he said, voice low against her ear. "One puff won't turn you into a delinquent."

"Can we not do this here?"

He straightened, irritated. "We’re just having fun."

"I know. It’s just... not my idea of fun."

His smile faded. "Right. I forgot. You don’t like anything messy."

"That’s not true."

"You say that, but every time things get a little wild, you check out. You sit on the couch and stare at your phone until it’s time to leave."

"Because I don’t want to pretend to enjoy something that makes me uncomfortable."

Lando’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned back toward the crowd. She watched him go, heart sinking.

The fight came later that week.

He showed up late to dinner, still wearing a wristband from some club he never mentioned he was going to. She had cooked for once, tried to make something that wasn’t takeout.

Lando kicked his shoes off and tossed his keys onto the table like nothing was wrong.

"You look nice," he said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"You’re late."

He pulled back. "Traffic."

She just stared at him. The lie was too easy.

"You said we’d have a quiet night."

"And we are."

"You went to a party."

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "For like, an hour. Don’t make it a thing."

"You could’ve told me."

"I didn’t think I needed permission."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "That’s not what I said."

Lando set the bottle down harder than necessary. "Is this really about me being late, or is this about how I live my life again?"

She met his gaze. "It’s about you never being fully present unless there’s a camera on or a drink in your hand."

He scoffed. "There it is."

"There’s what?"

"The judgment."

"It’s not judgment."

"You keep saying that, but every word out of your mouth is just a more polite way of saying you think I’m a screw-up."

"I just think your... lifestyle. It isn’t healthy."

He blinked, like she’d slapped him. "Wow. That’s what you think of me?"

"It’s just I think you’re constantly burning the candle at both ends and pretending it doesn’t affect you."

He laughed, but it wasn’t light. "So now I need saving?"

"That’s not what I said."

"You didn’t have to."

She stepped closer, trying to stay calm. "I’m not trying to change you, Lando. I just want you to see that this isn’t sustainable."

"You think I haven’t heard that before?" His voice was rising now. "From my team, my parents, everyone who wants a piece of me? I don’t need to hear it from you too."

"I’m not trying to pile on, Lando. I just—"

"What? Want me to grow up? Stay in? Light some candles and watch a movie like everything’s normal?"

"Yes," she said softly. "Sometimes I do."

He stared at her, something shifting in his face. "You want to fix me."

"No," she whispered. "I want to reach you. But you’re always somewhere else."

He laughed, bitter. "That’s rich, coming from you."

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"I want you to stop treating me like some broken kid who needs to be fixed."

"That’s not fair. I didn’t mean anything like that-"

"You know what’s not fair? You walking around acting like you’re better than all of it. Too perfect to ever mess up. Too perfect to actually live a little."

"I don’t think I’m perfect."

"You act like it. You sit there with your tea and your books and your damn moral compass, and every time I step out of line, you look at me like I’m some kind of disappointment. And now you’re trying to control how I live?"

"I’m not trying to control you."

"You told me my lifestyle isn’t healthy. You basically just said you’re embarrassed by the way I live."

"I said I’m worried."

"Yeah, sorry you can’t mold me into someone you like."

Her throat tightened. "I don’t want to mold you. I want to feel like I’m not losing you to a version of yourself you don’t even like."

"Don’t psychoanalyze me. You don’t get it."

"Partying every night isn’t healthy!"

He went still.

"There it is again!" His tone turned sharp, defensive.

"I think you’re drowning and pretending you’re swimming."

His jaw clenched. "And I think you’re a control freak who’s afraid of anything she can’t schedule two weeks in advance."

"Wow."

"Yeah. Wow."

There was a long pause. Neither of them moved.

Finally, she spoke. "I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with this."

Lando’s jaw tensed. "Then maybe you’re not the person I should be with."

She swallowed hard. "Maybe I’m not."

The silence between them stretched out like a chasm.

He picked up his keys again.

"Let me know when you’re ready to stop looking at me like I’m a problem. I’ll leave you to your quiet night" he said, and walked out the door.

She didn’t cry. Not right away.

Instead, she sat on the couch alone, staring at the plate of food that had gone cold hours ago.

She hadn’t meant to make him feel small. She just wanted him to slow down long enough to see that not everything good had to be loud and fleeting.

But maybe that was the problem.

He didn’t want quiet. And she couldn’t keep pretending to love the noise.

570 notes · View notes

alinathinkstoomuch · 3 months ago

Text

BEST WORST DATE EVER

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader (part of my fake!fiancee series, but can be read as a standalone) summary: you finally score a date with your favourite FBI agent but none of it goes to plan. warnings | an: everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong, reader wears dress, heels & makeup, reader also has hair rollers in for a sec, fluff, the usual romcom feels, kissing in the rain, two fools falling in love. word count: 4.2k

✧ masterlist

Finally, after literal weeks, the stars – or, more accurately, the schedules – had aligned, and you had a date booked in your diary, with the only FBI agent who had ever made you forget how to spell your own name. Aaron Hotchner. The man who singlehandedly caused your brain to malfunction whenever he so much as breathed in your direction, or replied to your texts with perfect punctuation and no smiley faces.

This was it.

Date of the year. Date of the century. There would be bubbles, stolen glances, banter so electric it could power a small city or the entire FBI headquarters. Delicious food you wouldn’t even taste because, let’s be honest, who could chew in the presence of Aaron Hotchner looking at you like that?

All you had to do was get ready.

And you had. For three hours.

The dress was flawless – not even out on the racks yet – paired with colour-coordinated heels (obviously). Your feel-good playlist was echoing through the apartment, every song making your soul shimmy a little harder. You were glowing – literally, thanks to a brand-new highlighter and the sheer power of giddy excitement.

The evening itself? Divine. A soft summer night, the sky painted in dreamy strokes of orange and lavender. The breeze was so perfect, you had opened every window just so it could slip and wrap around your apartment. It was giving beach house in the Hamptons – if the Hamptons had rush-hour traffic and someone aggressively yelling downstairs. Still, you’d take what you could get.

The night had started out on such a high that you chose to completely ignore the literal kink in your hair from a rogue roller that, for the first time ever, had gotten stuck. Like, really stuck. You had pulled. You had pleaded. You had given it a stern talking-to. Nothing worked.

So you yanked it free, wincing at the small collection of sacrificed strands now floating to the floor like sad little snowflakes. Whatever, you had told yourself, fluffing the misbehaving section. This just gave you an excuse to finally try that overpriced hair mask hiding at the back of your vanity. Self-care, right?

Crisis managed (ish), you turned to your dress – still hanging like royalty on its satin hanger, just waiting to be slipped into. It slid on like a dream, hugging every curve like it had been custom-made for your body and your body only. Which, technically, it had. A little tailoring here, a few adjustments there – you’d poured hours into making sure it was the dress. All that was left now? Zip. It. Up.

Which would’ve been a total breeze if you weren’t doing this solo.

“If you were a little taller, Gus, you’d be able to put those paws to good use,” you sighed, glancing down at your dachshund, who blinked up at you like you were insane.

With Gus officially out of the running for Most Helpful Roommate, you took matters into your own hands. You twisted, reached and arched your back like a ballerina in The Nutcracker attempting an interpretive piece titled Why Am I Alone on Zipper Night? You even tried the shimmy-and-zip method that had worked exactly once in college when your roommate had bailed on you before formal.

No luck.

You huffed, shaking out the upcoming cramp in both of your arms. “Alright. We’re doing this the old-fashioned way.”

Marching into your office-slash-design-studio, you grabbed a roll of ribbon from the supply shelf and snipped a decent length off. Back at the mirror, you looped the ribbon through the zipper pull. Once it was securely hooked, you angled your body just right and gave the ribbon a gentle tug upward.

Your go-to method. She had never let you down before.

It moved and you felt it glide smoothly up your back, the zipper obeying like it knew who was in charge. You kept going – slowly, carefully – completely unaware you were holding your breath until –

Snap.

You froze. Ribbon in hand. Soul temporarily exiting the premises.

Eyes squeezed shut, you stood there in absolute silence. You needed a moment, maybe two and possibly a drink.

You opened one eye.

Then the other.

You turned yourself to face the mirror and catch a glimpse of the back of the dress.

There it was, lodged three quarters of the way up your spine like a passive-aggressive ex refusing to leave. The pull? Gone. Vanished. Probably sipping a margarita in the Bahamas with your last bobby pin.

You stared at your reflection. Stared at the zipper. Stared at yourself staring at the zipper.

And then – you smiled.

Because you were not just any woman. You were a woman well-acquainted with last minute fashion emergencies. It’s what you did for a living. You’d made Halloween costumes of out duct tape and dreams. You’d hemmed dresses fifteen minutes before walking out the door. You’d once fixed a broken strap with a paperclip and a prayer – and it had held through a full night of dancing.

A snapped zipper? Please.

Back in your mini home studio, you slipped your arms out of the dress and rotated the back to the front so you could get to work. It wasn’t elegant nor graceful and there was a brief moment where you may or may not have used your teeth. But five minutes later?

The zipper had a new pull.

Was it technically a vintage charm from a bracelet you hadn’t worn since sophomore year? Yes.

Did it match the dress perfectly and look like it belonged there? Also yes.

You put the dress back on like it was made of glass and you were the belle of a very last-minute ball. The zipper held, the charm glinting in the mirror like a little badge of honour – or maybe the reason for your first grey hair.

Crisis: officially handled.

With your heels and clutch within reach, you made sure Gus was all set for the night. A little blanket nest on the couch with his favourite chew toy (the one that somehow still squeaked despite being mauled within an inch of its life). Your feel-good playlist had also been swapped out for classical music because apparently, according to the internet, dogs appreciated it. You weren't totally sure Gus cared, but you liked the ambiance.

“You good, little man?” you asked, scratching behind his ears.

He let out a dramatic yawn, turned in a slow, sleepy circle, and flopped onto his blanket like he had also just survived a zipper-induced emotional rollercoaster.

You grinned. “Same, honestly.”

And then – a knock at the door.

Your heart fluttered. Not dramatically, but enough to make you pause. You smoothed your dress one last time and gave Gus a look. “This is it,” you whispered. “Wish me luck.”

He blinked at you. Supportive, if slightly bored.

You crossed the room, lifted your chin, and opened the door.

There he was.

Aaron Hotchner.

Suit perfectly pressed, hair slightly wind-swept and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. For a moment, he didn’t say a word. He just looked at you, eyes warm and fixed on you like you had just walked straight out of a dream and into his reality.

His gaze moved slowly, drinking in the details like you were the best top-shelf wine he’d ever been offered – the kind you don’t rush, the kind you remember. When his eyes met yours again, something in his expression softened.

“…Wow,” he said, voice low.

“Careful, Aaron Hotch Hotchner. You keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you missed me.”

That earned a smile – not the tight-lipped professional one, not the guarded BAU version. No, this one was real. It reached his eyes, it crinkled at the corners and it felt like something just for you. “I did,” he replied simply.

Your smile widened. “Good answer.”

He held out the bouquet. “These are for you – though, I have to say, they feel a little underwhelming after seeing you.”

“Wow. Look at you being all smooth.”

“I had a whole line prepared,” he admitted. “You kind of ruined it by looking like that.”

“Guess I’ll try to tone it down next time.”

“Don’t,” he said, already a little too soft again.

You took the flowers, their stems cool against your fingers and stepped aside. “Let me get these in water, and you can meet the most important man in my life.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

You gestured toward the living room. “Gus.”

Right on cue, the little dachshund trotted in, ears perked, tail wagging.

Hotch crouched down immediately, like the well-trained guest he was. “Hey, buddy.”

Gus sniffed his palm, then turned and padded right past him, deeming the man neither a threat… nor particularly impressive.

From the kitchen, you laughed. “Don’t take it personally. He’s playing hard to get.”

“I’m familiar with the type,” Aaron called back.

“Really? Who?” You reached for your tallest vase – the one that only ever saw the light of day when something mildly romantic happened. “Because it definitely can’t be me,” you continued, “I’ve been practically sending smoke signals.”

You turned on the tap, the water rushing out as you tried – and failed – to bite back your smile. You had light grip on the vase, distracted by the sound of Aaron chuckling behind you. The vase filled faster than expected and before you could react, it slipped right of your hands, clattered loudly in the sink, and half its contents splashed right onto your dress, the countertop and the floor.

“…That sounded expensive.”

“It was,” you said flatly, staring down at the soaked fabric of your dress. “It also doubles as a statement piece and apparently, a hazard.”

Aaron was at your side in a second, gently picking up the vase from where it was now sitting crooked in the sink. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, totally.” You grabbed the nearest dish towel and dabbed at your dress. “I only spent three hours getting ready, survived a zipper mutiny, and now I’m just casually being waterboarded by a flower arrangement. It’s fine.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “Want to reschedule?”

You shot him a look. “If I put on another dress, I might start charging emotional labour.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair.”

You kept dabbing at your dress, pretending to ignore the fact that this was the second wardrobe-related crisis of the evening, while Aaron rescued the bouquet, reassembling it like it hadn’t just committed a minor act of sabotage.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, glancing down at the damp patches, “I still look cute, right?”

Hotch looked up, dead serious. “You look incredible.”

The words landed somewhere in your chest, like he wasn’t just saying it to flatter you, but simply stating a fact. “Well,” you exhaled, fluffing your hair like that might buy you back a sliver of composure, “I’m not changing again, so I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

You grabbed your clutch, slipped on your heels and gave your apartment one last once-over before turning to Aaron. “Alright. Let’s try this again.”

He offered his arm. “Shall we?”

You looped your arm through his. “We shall.”

You made it downstairs without incident and Aaron, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger side door of his car, and you slipped in without doing some ridiculous like flashing him your underwear.

Once he was settled in the driver’s seat, he started the engine, sparing you a glance. “Seatbelt?”

You clicked it into place. “What kind of date do you think this is?”

“The kind where I don’t want to fill out paperwork after.”

You grinned, turning slightly. “You’re funnier than I expected.”

“I’m told it’s my most surprising quality.”

“You are full of surprises, Hotchner.”

Just as he pulled out of the lot, the universe – ever the drama queen – decided it had been too quiet for too long. The GPS, unprompted and in the loudest possible volume setting, blared: “Turn left in twenty feet!”

You both flinched.

“Wow. Okay. Was she… yelling at us?”

Hotch reached forward to lower the volume. “She gets a little aggressive when I don’t use her often.”

“Hm,” you hummed. “Sounds familiar.”

“Is this your way of telling me I’ve been ignoring you?”

“I would never be that passive-aggressive.”

The GPS interrupted again, louder. “Turn left now!”

You jumped. “Okay, well she would.”

“I think she’s siding with you.”

“As she should.”

Things finally settled as Aaron pulled away from the curb, the GPS now speaking in something resembling an inside voice. You stole a glance at him. Then another. It wasn’t your fault. The way his hands gripped the wheel? Illegal.

And God, he smelled good. Not cologne-overkill good – the kind of good that was understated and wildly unfair. Like expensive soap, confidence and something distinctively manly. You shifted in your seat, trying to look not as flustered as you felt.

“This is fine,” you muttered to yourself, staring out the window. “Totally normal. Just a casual date with the FBI’s finest.”

“What was that?” Aaron asked, glancing at you.

You smiled sweetly. “Just talking to the GPS. Making sure she knows who’s in charge now.”

He smirked – and that should be illegal too. “Let me know how that goes for you.”

You were just about to fire back a quick, witty response (something equal parts charming and slightly unhinged), when the car made a new sound. Not a thud. Not a rattle. More like a… dramatic wheeze, a mechanical sigh of defeat.

Your head snapped toward him. “Oh no.”

Aaron frowned and pulled the car over. “It’s probably nothing. Just a –”

The engine sputtered again, the lights flickered once, then everything died.

“That felt like something.”

Aaron tried the ignition once, then twice and was met with nothing but an empty click. He sighed, finally admitting what you could already see written all over his face.

Defeat.

You leaned back in your seat, trying not to laugh. “So… what’s the verdict Hotch Hotchner?”

“It’s not the battery, not the alternator…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not a mechanic.”

“I thought you were the FBI,” you teased. “You’re telling me you can dismantle a semi-automatic in ten seconds, but you can’t hotwire your own car?”

“I could hotwire a car,” he corrected - and, okay, that was absolutely a visual you were going to revisit later. “But I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon when it’s your own.” He undid his seatbelt and added, “I’ll take a look under the hood.”

You slid out of the passenger seat and followed, heels clicking as you caught up with him. He had already shrugged off his suit jacket by the time you reached him, revealing a fitted black dress shirt that was doing far too much damage to your eyes, brain and heart.

“Here,” you offered, extending your hand. He glanced over, momentarily surprised, then handed the jacket to you with a grateful nod. You folded the jacket over your arm, watching him roll up his sleeves. Wow, even more damage. It felt like you were in some kind of fighting video game, watching all your health bars flash red in every area marked vulnerable to manly forearms.

He leaned into the engine compartment, brows furrowed, sleeves pushed back, giving you a front-row seat to the this-shouldn’t-be-so-attractive show.

“So,” you began conversationally, “did you always want to catch bad guys or was FBI agent your backup plan after professional modelling fell through?”

"I think you might have me confused with someone else."

“Nope.” You shook your head. “I’ve seen those arms. Definitely modelling material. Like, trench coat on a rooftop, smouldering into the sunset kind of thing.”

“Flattery isn’t going to restart the engine.”

“Maybe not, but it’s certainly improving the situation for me,” you shot back with a grin. “Besides you haven’t answered my question.”

He straightened up, eyes on you now instead of the uncooperative car. "I was actually a lawyer first."

"A lawyer too? That's no fair. Is there anything you can’t do?"

He glanced down at his watch, then back at you with a half-smile. “Get us to dinner on time, apparently.” His line of sight then briefly shifted to your shoes. “Think those heels of yours can survive a walk? The restaurant isn’t much further from here.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You know what they say – give a woman the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world.”

He shut the hood of the car with a thump, then looked at you again, eyes lingering a little longer this time. “Is that what you’re doing tonight? Conquering the world?”

“Absolutely,” you confirmed, sweeping the hand that wasn’t holding his jacket down your still-slightly-damp outfit. “One malfunctioning car, soggy dress, broken zipper and FBI agent at a time.”

His smile deepened. “You know…most people wouldn’t be laughing through all of this.”

“Are you calling me most people? Because I can give you your jacket back right now, no problem.”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze still on you. “No. I’m saying you’re beautiful, and I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite like you.”

That stopped you cold. The words catching you off guard completely, so much so that you dropped your eyes down to the pavement. You couldn’t remember the last time someone made you feel so…seen. So genuinely appreciated.

Considering you track record – dating, even being engaged to nothing but jerks – it was hard not to feel like all you’d ever known were bad eggs. But standing here, it finally felt like maybe, just maybe… Aaron Hotchner was one of the good ones.

“You’re not going shy on me now, are you?” he asked and you felt his hand brush against yours as he gently took back his jacket.

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “No. Just trying really hard not to picture you as an egg.”

He moved behind you then, and before your brain could catch up, he was carefully draping the jacket over your shoulders – warm from where it had rested on your arm, smelling like him in a way that made your heart stutter.

“Do I even want to know?” he murmured near your ear.

You turned your head just enough to catch his eye over your shoulder, your voice quieter now. “Just that you’re a good one.”

“A good egg?”

You grinned. “The best.”

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you to that lava cake.”

Within seconds his car was locked and left behind on the side of the road – forgotten in favour of the glow ahead. His jacket was too big on you, but it was warm. And for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, it made you feel safe. Every time the fabric shifted, brushing lightly against your arm, it reminded you he was still there, walking beside you.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t quite done with you yet, a few stray raindrops tapped against your cheek, the kind of drizzle that made everything smell like damp concrete and slow evenings.

You glanced up toward the sky, then over at him. “Seriously?”

Aaron looked up too, lips twitching. “We can call a cab.”

“It’s fine. I put on waterproof mascara, might as well see if it lives up to the hype.”

He gave you a sidelong glance, like he was trying to decide if you were serious, then just nodded once – like a man who didn’t quite know what waterproof mascara was, but respected the commitment – and kept walking.

You followed, doing your best runway walk despite the slick pavement and the extra weight of his jacket. It actually looked like the two of you might make it to dinner on time.

Until your heel caught.

It was subtle at first – a shift in your step, a little tug – until you stopped walking completely and looked down to find your heel wedged neatly into the crack between the curb and the sidewalk.

You sighed, long and theatrical. “Oh, come on.”

Aaron paused, turned back, and took in the situation as you gestured dramatically at your trapped shoe. “I’m telling you, the universe is sending a message.”

He walked back toward you, crouched without a word, and gently wrapped a hand around your ankle – because of course he knew how to rescue people from their own footwear.

“I’ve had crime scenes less complicated than this,” he said, voice dry.

“Are you calling my shoe a crime scene?”

“Not yet,” he muttered, and with one swift motion, freed your heel from the crack like it was second nature.

“Wow. That was… weirdly attractive.”

He stood and handed you your balance back with one steady hand. “Try not to fall for me again.”

You shoved lightly at his chest. “Okay, absolutely not the time or place to be charming.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t argue.

“I’m serious,” you went on, gesturing wildly. “A broken zipper, a chunk of my hair lost to a stupid roller, an almost shattered vase that somehow exploded all over me anyway, a dead car, mascara that’s probably migrated to my chin – I don’t know, I can’t see – and now the sidewalk is trying to eat my vintage Dior heels? Aaron, these are all signs.”

He tiled his head slightly. “Signs of what, sweetheart?”

Your breath caught – not because of the word, but because of the timing. He said it so gently, like it wasn’t the thousand-pound weight you were already carrying.

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you said quickly, your voice wobbling. “Not when my heart is already starting to hurt. These are signs that you need to run. Far. Like sprint away from me and this whole fake fiancé pyramid scheme I’ve roped you into. The universe is practically screaming at you to get out and I think, at this point, you really ought to listen.”

Aaron didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at you. The rain had flattened his hair, darkened his clothes, but he stood there like it didn’t matter. Like you were the only thing he was aware of.

“Are you done?”

“Excuse me?”

“The speech, the spiral, the dramatic monologue,” he continued, stepping closer. “Was that the end, or should I expect an encore?”

You opened your mouth, whether to defend yourself or double down, you weren’t even sure, but he was already there, just a foot away, the rain closing in around you both like a curtain.

“You think I haven’t seen chaos before? You really think I’d be here if I needed to run?” He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t trying to fix you. He was just there. Standing in the middle of the mess you were trying to warn him away from… and not moving.

“I’m a walking disaster tonight.”

“You’re soaked and dramatic,” he corrected. “Not the same thing.”

“I’ve done everything I can to prove this is a bad idea.”

“And I’m still here.”

You stared at him, rain blurring your lashes. “Why?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

That stopped the noise in your head – the overthinking, the spiralling, the guilt, the sheer panic of letting yourself want something that wasn’t wrapped in self-protection.

And then the rain really came.

No longer a gentle drizzle, but a full-on downpour.

You gasped as it hit, cold and immediate. Rain clung to your lashes, soaked through your hair, slid down your neck in rivulets. Your dress plastered to your skin and Aaron’s jacket felt ten times heavier as it soaked up the water.

The street around you emptied in an instant as people scattered for shelter. But neither of you moved, frozen in the middle of the sidewalk like the storm had carved out a private world just for this moment.

Aaron didn’t flinch. Didn’t suggest shelter. He just watched you through the rain, like the sight of you standing there – drenched, dramatic, furious at fate – was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You still don’t think this is a sign?” you asked, breathless, rain slipping over your lips like punctuation.

“I do actually,” he answered the same time his hand moved to cradle your cheek. “I think it’s a sign for me to do this.”

His lips were on yours before you could even process it. There was no hesitation, no searching for the right moment because this was the moment. You kissed him back, tasting the rain, your fingers fisting into the damp fabric of his shirt as if that would help with the dizziness you felt. The kiss wasn’t perfect, not by movie standards – it was messy and soaked and your teeth bumped slightly when you smiled against his mouth.

But it was real.

It was the kind of kiss you felt everywhere. In your knees. In your ribs. In all the places you’d spent years protecting.

When he finally pulled back, you almost winced at the loss of him, like your body hadn’t quite agreed to let go. You stood there, blinking up at him through rain-slick lashes, barely breathing.

“You’re smiling,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across your cheek, as if to make sure it was still really you.

“You make it incredibly hard not to.”

He gave a small nod, then leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he said softly against your skin. “We can still make the reservation.”

You groaned, tipping your head back. “I’m soaked, I can feel mascara on my collarbone, and I’m pretty sure my heels would make a squidge noise with every step.”

He said nothing, just waited because of course he knew there was more.

You looked back at him, a little hesitant now. “Would you kill me if I said…we skip the reservation, grab takeout and spend the night with Gus instead?”

He shook his head again. “We could spend the rest of the night standing out here in the rain and I wouldn’t have many complaints.”

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti @pastelpinkflowerlife @hazzyking @bernelflo @risenqueen1521 @jazzimac1967 @camihotchner @abschaffer2 @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @pacmillo-blog-blog @stilestotherescue

1st divider by cafekitsune

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #Spotify #mine🌟

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lanadelspray02 · 2 months ago

Text

A BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE: CHAPTER 1

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content !!

hey guys! an anon on tumblr requested a friends with benefits series, so here it is. I will still be mainly focusing on hold me anyway, but i will every now and then release a chapter for this series. let me know what you think or if you even want me to continue it :) I honestly dont know how i feel about this.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 7370

--------------------

The AC in Azzi’s dorm apartment had been broken for two weeks, but neither of them seemed to mind tonight. The windows were cracked just wide enough to let in a breeze that barely touched the edges of the room, fluttering the corner of a Kobe Bryant poster on the wall.

Azzi was sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a too-big UConn shirt, one bare leg tucked beneath her and the other brushing against Paige’s thigh. Paige pretended not to notice, or maybe she just didn’t want to admit how badly she did.

The music playing was a mellow, late-night playlist Azzi had made on Spotify, mostly H.E.R. and SZA, with a little bit of Brent Faiyaz thrown in. It pulsed soft and low from a speaker on the windowsill, fading into the quiet hum of the room.

Paige leaned back against the armrest, one socked foot propped on the coffee table, an almost-empty can of spiked seltzer dangling from her fingertips. She looked relaxed, but Azzi could feel the shift in the air. The slow burn of eye contact that held too long, the laugh that stuck in her throat half a second after Paige’s smile.

This had been happening for weeks. Maybe longer. Paige wasn’t subtle when she flirted, and Azzi wasn’t stupid.

“You're actually insane if you think Bryson Tiller clears Summer Walker,” Azzi said, grinning around the lip of her glass as she took another sip.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “He’s literally heartbreak personified. She’s great, but you can’t tell me Exchange didn’t wreck you in 2017.”

“I was fourteen in 2017.”

“Exactly. Prime wreckable age.”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head as she leaned over to refill her drink. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few curls sticking to the back of her neck. Paige’s gaze followed the movement of her arm, the dip of her shirt collar as she reached for the bottle. She didn't say anything. Just sipped her seltzer and tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the way Azzi’s thigh pressed a little closer to hers when she sat back down.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi said after a beat, tilting her head toward her.

Paige shrugged, lips twitching at the corner. “Just taking it all in.”

“Oh yeah?” Azzi asked, amused. “What exactly is there to take in?”

“You,” Paige said, and her voice wasn’t teasing this time. It was low and easy, like it had just slipped out, honest without asking for anything in return.

Azzi blinked, her expression flickering for a moment into something unreadable. Then she gave a lazy smile, one brow arching as she leaned in just a little closer. “You trying to be smooth right now?”

“Do I have to try?”

That earned a laugh, soft, close to genuine, and then Azzi reached out and flicked Paige’s shoulder. “Cocky.”

Paige didn’t move away. “Confident.”

“Same thing.”

“Nope.” Paige leaned forward, bracing one arm on the back of the couch behind Azzi’s shoulders. “Confidence means I know what I want.”

Azzi’s smile faltered just enough to make the air between them shift again. Paige’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Azzi’s neck, not quite a touch, more like a suggestion. The music dipped into a new song, something with a slow bass line and lyrics they weren’t really listening to anymore.

Azzi swallowed. “And what is it you want, exactly?”

Paige didn’t answer with words. She just reached down, slowly, and curled her fingers around Azzi’s waist, firm but careful, and pulled her into her lap.

Azzi made a quiet sound, surprised more than anything, her knees folding on either side of Paige’s hips as she adjusted her balance. She was warm. Solid. Close in a way that erased the space between flirting and something heavier.

“That’s bold,” Azzi murmured, but her voice had dropped half an octave.

Paige looked up at her, hands still resting low on her waist. “You gonna stop me?”

Azzi’s hands landed on Paige’s shoulders, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of her t-shirt. Her smile turned sharp. “I didn’t say that.”

The kiss happened like an exhale, slow at first, then deeper, more deliberate. Azzi shifted her weight forward, pressing Paige back into the couch as her hips settled into the space between Paige’s legs. Paige let out a soft sound that might’ve been a groan, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back and pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but heat and history and the kind of want that had been building for months.

Azzi’s hair brushed Paige’s cheek. Paige kissed her harder. Azzi answered without hesitation.

They didn’t say anything for a long time.

Only moved, lips and hands and the slight, rhythmic push of Azzi’s body against Paige’s lap as tension coiled tighter between them like something inevitable.

--------------------

Azzi’s mouth was on hers again, open and wanting, all soft lips and sharp edges. Paige couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, like someone had been waiting for permission. Azzi shifted her hips in Paige’s lap, slow at first, testing, and Paige exhaled hard, fingers digging into Azzi’s waist. Her t-shirt had ridden up just enough to bare skin, and Paige’s hands found it greedily, warm, smooth, real.

Azzi pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to look down at her with something dangerous flickering in her eyes. “Still think you’re in control?” she asked, her voice low and uneven, her hands slipping up under Paige’s shirt, palms dragging over her ribs, thumbs brushing just under the swell of her chest.

Paige licked her lips, leaned forward until her mouth was at Azzi’s ear. “Not yet,” she murmured, and then stood.

Azzi yelped softly in surprise as Paige rose to her feet, her arms instinctively winding around Paige’s neck, legs still locked around her waist. Paige held her easily, one hand under her thighs, the other braced across her back, guiding them through the small dorm apartment like it was muscle memory. The hallway was short, but the tension between them stretched it long, every second taut with heat, with the way Azzi’s breath caught against Paige’s neck, with the way Paige pressed her a little tighter against the wall as they passed, just to feel the gasp that slipped out.

Paige’s mouth found Azzi’s jaw, her throat, the place just beneath her ear that made Azzi twitch in her arms. Her grip tightened, and Azzi let her head fall back, lips parted, fingers threading through Paige’s hair as her body arched toward the contact.

By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both flushed, breathing uneven, teeth flashing between kisses that turned rough in the way that only happened when restraint finally snapped.

Paige set Azzi down gently on the edge of the bed, but Azzi didn’t let go. She pulled Paige down with her, dragged her into the sheets with urgency, and their mouths found each other again like they were starving.

Paige kissed her again, then shifted downward, dragging her mouth along Azzi’s chest, slow and open-mouthed, until she caught one nipple between her lips. Azzi gasped, her back arching, fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. Paige swirled her tongue around it, then sucked hard, just to see how Azzi would react. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Fuck Paige,” Azzi breathed, hips twitching upward as she tried to anchor herself to something. Paige moved to the other breast, repeating the same hungry attention, and Azzi whimpered beneath her, pulling at her shoulders, trying to get her closer, deeper, more.

Paige smiled against her skin. “You’re already so sensitive,” she murmured. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this, huh?”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find anything but another moan as Paige’s hand slipped lower, past the curve of her waist, fingers teasing the waistband of her underwear.

“Say it,” Paige said, her lips ghosting against Azzi’s stomach now, moving lower. “Say you’ve been thinking about me.”

“I...” Azzi’s voice cracked, half a breath, half a confession. “I have.”

“Good,” Paige whispered.

She hooked her fingers in Azzi’s underwear and dragged them down, slow and deliberate, exposing her inch by inch. Azzi tried to close her thighs, overwhelmed, but Paige pressed a firm hand to the inside of one, pushing her open again. She kissed along the inside of her knee, then up, slow and hot and teasing, until she could feel the tremble in Azzi’s legs. Paige looked up, and Azzi was already watching her, eyes glazed over, lips parted.

“Don’t look away,” Paige said, and then lowered her mouth to her.

Azzi’s reaction was instant, a choked gasp, her hips jerking up into Paige’s face, one hand flying to the headboard, the other fisting in Paige’s hair. Paige groaned against her, tongue parting her folds and licking through them like she already knew every part. She was warm and wet and tasted like every fantasy Paige had tried not to let herself have.

Paige flattened her tongue, dragged it slow from bottom to top, then circled her clit, gentle at first, then faster, firmer, until Azzi was panting above her, thighs squeezing tight around her head. Paige moaned at the pressure, loving it, letting Azzi ride her face as she worked her tongue in tight, rhythmic circles.

Azzi’s voice broke on a curse. “Oh my God, don’t stop”

She didn’t.

Paige reached up, slipping one hand beneath Azzi’s ass and lifting her just enough to keep her in place, the other hand slipping between Azzi’s thighs to tease her entrance. She pressed a single finger inside, slow and deep, and Azzi’s whole body arched like she’d been hit with electricity.

“Paige....” It came out broken. Begging.

Paige added a second finger and started moving, curling with every thrust, tongue never stopping on her clit. Azzi was losing it, gasping, cursing, her heels digging into the mattress as her body fought to keep up with how good it felt.

Her voice was ragged. “Gonna....fuck, Paige, I.....”

“Let go,” Paige murmured, barely pulling back enough to speak. “I got you.”

That did it.

Azzi came hard, thighs trembling around Paige’s head, her whole body tensing, breath catching in her throat before breaking into a long, desperate moan. Paige didn’t stop, kept licking her through it, fingers working her slow and deep until Azzi was shaking, overstimulated, pleading softly through clenched teeth.

When Paige finally pulled back, her mouth and chin slick, she crawled back up Azzi’s body and kissed her. Azzi tasted herself on Paige’s lips, and groaned into her mouth, grabbing her face like she couldn’t stand to be any farther away.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Azzi whispered when they finally broke apart, voice hoarse.

Paige smirked, brushing sweat-damp curls away from her forehead. “Told you I knew what I wanted.”

Azzi pulled her in again, rolling them so Paige was beneath her this time, and kissed her until her legs started shaking again, until wanting turned into needing all over again.

Azzi kissed her like she was making up for all the time they'd spent pretending they didn’t want this, deep and dizzying, tongue sliding against Paige’s as her hand skimmed down her chest. Paige was still panting, the aftershocks of what she’d just done vibrating through her muscles, but she didn’t resist as Azzi shifted on top of her, dragging her leg over and straddling her waist.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s hips, still trembling slightly, and Azzi grinned against her mouth. “You good?” she asked, but the glint in her eyes said she already knew the answer.

“I will be,” Paige rasped, “once you stop teasing.”

Azzi leaned down, her mouth trailing a path along Paige’s jaw, her throat, across the collarbone already marked by a few of Paige’s earlier bites. “Then shut up and let me focus.”

Her hands were everywhere, confident but reverent, like she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was allowed to touch Paige like this. She cupped her breasts, brushed her thumbs across her nipples, then bent down to take one into her mouth, sucking just hard enough to make Paige gasp. Paige arched into her with a sharp inhale, her fingers digging into Azzi’s back.

Azzi moved slow at first, kissing down the center of her chest, then her stomach, tongue sliding along the ridges of muscle as Paige tensed beneath her. When she reached the waistband of Paige’s shorts, she hooked her fingers there and looked up.

“Can I?”

“Azzi,” Paige groaned, “if you don’t...”

That was all the permission she needed. She pulled them down quickly, underwear with them, then tossed them off the side of the bed. She paused for half a second to just look, at Paige laid out beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising fast, legs spread open and slick with arousal.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Azzi whispered, more to herself than anything.

Paige opened her mouth to fire back something cocky, probably a joke, probably a tease, but then Azzi’s mouth was on her, and nothing clever came out.

She licked her slowly first, just to watch Paige react, the twitch in her thighs, the way her hand flew up to grip the sheets. Then she flattened her tongue and dragged it through her folds, savoring the taste, before closing her lips around her clit and sucking hard.

Paige cursed loud and bucked her hips, one hand reaching down to grab Azzi’s hair. “Holy fuck”

Azzi smiled against her and kept going, her tongue worked in tight, steady circles, her hand sliding up to press down gently on Paige’s stomach, grounding her. Every now and then she’d back off just to tease, to flick her tongue lightly or drag it maddeningly slow, only to suck again harder when Paige started to whine.

When she felt Paige getting close, her hips rolling, her thighs starting to shake, she slipped a finger inside her. Paige choked on a moan, eyes flying open, head falling back against the pillow.

Azzi curled her finger, then added a second, pumping them in deep, slow thrusts while her mouth never let up. Paige was falling apart under her, cursing, gasping, hand tight in her curls as if she couldn’t stand the thought of Azzi stopping for even a second.

Azzi loved it, loved the sound of Paige breaking for her, the way she’d gone from cocky to wrecked in minutes. “That’s it,” she murmured against her, voice low and thick with arousal. “Come for me, Paige.”

And Paige did, hard. Her whole body tensed, her breath caught in her throat, her hips stuttered. She let out a broken sound, deep and raw, as she fell over the edge. Azzi kept her mouth on her until Paige physically tugged her up, dragging her in for a kiss with the little strength she had left.

They kissed for a long time, still half-naked, chests slick with sweat, legs tangled. Neither of them said anything for a while, not because there was nothing to say, but because whatever they’d just done wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain out loud.

--------------------

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan spinning unevenly in the corner. Outside, campus had gone still, no more late-night stragglers, no more music bleeding through the walls. Just the soft sound of breathing and the occasional creak of the mattress when one of them shifted.

Paige lay on her back, arm curled under her head, eyes fixed on a faint crack in the ceiling she’d never noticed before. Azzi was on her side, the sheet tangled around her legs, her bare shoulder brushing Paige’s lightly. They hadn’t spoken in almost five minutes. The kind of silence that wasn’t just tired, it was loaded. Something was shifting between them. They both felt it.

Azzi cleared her throat, voice still hoarse from earlier. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

Paige didn’t look at her. “Talk about what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You know what.”

A pause. Then Paige exhaled and turned her head just enough to glance at her. “You mean the part where you came on my face and then pretended nothing happened?”

Azzi blinked, caught between a laugh and a glare. “Jesus.”

Paige smirked, just a little, but it faded quickly. “Fine. Yeah. We should talk.”

Azzi sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, hair a mess around her shoulders. Paige pushed herself upright more slowly, the sheet pooling at her hips. They didn’t look at each other at first.

“So what is this?” Azzi asked, voice quieter now.

Paige rubbed a hand over her face. “It was… good sex.”

Azzi shot her a look.

“What?” Paige asked. “It was. Really good. Possibly illegal in some states.”

Azzi snorted, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment. “Okay. Yeah. I am.”

More silence. Not heavy. Not yet. Just cautious.

Azzi hesitated before saying, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Paige’s stomach twisted, not because she didn’t expect it, but because hearing it out loud still stung. She nodded slowly. “Me neither.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have pulled you onto my lap if I wasn’t.”

Azzi squinted at her. “That logic makes zero sense.”

Paige shrugged, voice dry. “Welcome to my brain.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer, then Azzi finally leaned back against the headboard. “So… rules?”

“Sure,” Paige said, though her chest already felt tight. “Rules are good. Rules are smart.”

Azzi started counting off on her fingers. “No catching feelings.”

Paige gave her a look. “Obvious, but okay.”

“No sleepovers.”

Paige gestured vaguely at the bed. “Failing spectacularly already.”

Azzi shrugged. “Exceptions can be made for post-orgasm comas.”

“Noted.”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Paige said, “No texting at weird hours.”

Azzi frowned. “Why?”

Paige glanced away. “Because 2 a.m. texts start to feel like something else.”

Azzi chewed on her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Okay. No late-night texts unless it’s strictly logistical.”

Paige snorted. “What, like ‘meet me in ten, bring ice packs’?”

“Exactly.”

She was trying to make it funny. They both were. But the edges were too sharp, too close to something real. Paige shifted uncomfortably and added, “No telling the team.”

Azzi nodded. “God, no. You know they’d never shut up.”

“KK would start a countdown for how fast we’d catch feelings.”

“And Nika would have a betting pool by breakfast.”

They both smiled at that, a flicker of ease sliding into the space between them. But it didn’t last.

Azzi leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “What about… seeing other people?”

Paige froze.

Azzi looked at her. “Like… we can. Right?”

Paige forced her jaw to unclench. “Of course. Yeah. This isn’t exclusive.”

Azzi nodded quickly, like she was reassuring herself. “Right. Just sex. That’s it.”

“Exactly.” Paige laid back down again, staring at the ceiling. “Just stress relief. A mutual favor.”

Azzi laughed once. “You’re so bad at pretending you don’t care.”

Paige’s smile was tight. “So are you.”

Another silence. This one stretched.

Azzi laid back down beside her, not quite touching. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“It already is,” Paige said quietly.

Neither of them said anything for a long time after that.

Eventually, Azzi rolled to her side and said, voice soft, “You’re still staying, though, right?”

Paige looked over. “Thought we weren’t doing sleepovers.”

Azzi shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “There’s an exception for post-orgasm comas, remember?”

Paige chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach her chest. “Right.”

She reached out under the sheets and found Azzi’s hand. Their fingers laced automatically.

No more words. Just that fragile, unspoken thing growing between them.

They fell asleep like that, not touching, but tethered.

And neither of them dreamed about anyone else.

--------------------

Azzi woke slowly, the way you do when your body wants more sleep but your mind has already decided it’s over. The light coming in through the blinds was soft and diluted, just enough to tint the room in a pale gray that made everything look quieter than it was. She blinked up at the ceiling, adjusting to the stillness, and only when she reached out on instinct did she realize Paige wasn’t there.

Her arm stretched across the mattress, fingers brushing the sheet, but the spot where Paige had been hours ago was already cold.

Azzi didn’t move for a moment. Her hand stayed there, resting against the empty space, and she stared up at the ceiling like maybe if she stayed still long enough, the world would shift backward. Just a little. Just to last night.

The room smelled like her shampoo and Paige’s deodorant. There was a sweatshirt on the floor that didn’t belong to her, one sleeve turned inside out like it had been taken off in a rush. Her nightstand drawer was half-open, she didn’t remember opening it. Her phone was face down. And on the chair by the closet, her clothes were folded neatly, but the edge of Paige’s t-shirt was gone.

No text. No note. Not even a missed call.

Azzi exhaled slowly, more habit than feeling, and rolled onto her back, dragging the sheet up to her chest like it might hold something together. It didn’t. Her body was still sore in places she hadn’t been touched in months, tender reminders of a night she wasn’t supposed to hold onto. But it was hard to forget. Her skin still buzzed with the shape of Paige’s hands, the echo of her mouth, the weight of how it felt to be wanted like that.

She closed her eyes for a second longer, pressing the heel of her hand gently against her sternum. It wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was just… that slow, empty pull. The reminder that she’d made the rules. That Paige was just following them.

Azzi finally sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud. The air was cooler than it had been last night. Her window was cracked open an inch, letting in the distant sound of someone on a skateboard and a few birds that wouldn’t shut up. She pulled her robe off the back of her desk chair, slipped it on, and padded into the kitchen without turning on the lights.

The apartment was still. Caroline and Ice were probably still asleep, their doors shut. Azzi moved on autopilot, kettle, mug, instant coffee, a splash of oat milk. Her hands moved like they were used to distraction, like they’d memorized the steps of pretending everything was normal.

She sat at the small dining table, one leg pulled up under her robe, cradling her mug with both hands. The first sip burned her tongue slightly. She didn’t care.

Her phone lit up on the counter, not a message from Paige. Just Caroline: “Brunch? I’m starving and bored.”

Azzi stared at the screen for a second, then typed back: “Sure. Let me shower.”

No mention of last night. No questions. No confessions.

She locked her phone, sipped her coffee, and kept her face blank as the mug warmed her fingers.

Just sex, she reminded herself.

She didn’t believe it either.

--------------------

The brunch spot was barely a five-minute walk off campus, one of those places that always smelled like cinnamon and espresso no matter what time of day it was. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat of the kitchen, and the patio seating was already half full of students in sweats and sunglasses nursing iced lattes like hangover remedies. Azzi spotted Caroline immediately, tucked in the far corner under an umbrella, one foot propped on the empty chair across from her, sunglasses perched in her hair and a nearly empty mimosa in her hand.

Azzi approached quietly, adjusting the strap of her crossbody bag across her chest. She’d tied her curls up into a high bun after her shower, loose strands escaping around her face. Oversized hoodie. Leggings. Big black sunglasses she hadn’t bothered to take off even though the sun wasn’t that bright.

Caroline looked up as she approached and dropped her foot from the chair with a grin. “There she is. I was about to order for you and pretend we were dating.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh, sliding into the seat. “As if they’d believe you could land me.”

“Ouch,” Caroline said, clutching her chest. “See if I order you the good pancakes now.”

Azzi let herself smile, small, easy, and picked up the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. Something about pretending to think helped slow the morning down.

“You look like shit,” Caroline added after a beat, not unkindly. “Rough night?”

Azzi’s eyes stayed on the menu. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Caroline hummed, stirring the last inch of her mimosa with the straw. “Doing what?”

Azzi looked up briefly, then back down. “Just… thinking. Trying to reset.”

“Sure,” Caroline said, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You know you ghosted me last night, right? Whole team was in the group chat. You just vanished.”

“I wasn’t feeling it.” Azzi folded the menu closed and placed it on the edge of the table. “Needed a quiet night.”

“You always need a quiet night,” Caroline said, but it wasn’t an accusation, just an observation. She leaned forward, rested her chin on her hand. “You weren’t alone, though.”

Azzi didn’t flinch, but she didn’t meet her eyes either.

Caroline watched her for another second, then leaned back as the server arrived to take their order. Azzi asked for a green smoothie and banana pancakes. Caroline ordered eggs and hashbrowns, another mimosa. The server smiled and left. The silence returned.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Caroline said finally. “Just… checking in.”

Azzi nodded once. “I appreciate that.”

“But also,” Caroline added, tapping her fingers lightly against her glass, “if you’re going to sneak around and act mysterious, at least let me pretend to be supportive.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, and this time, it sounded real. “There’s nothing to support. It’s not a thing.”

Caroline tilted her head. “Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.” Azzi picked up her water, took a sip. “It was just… whatever. Not a big deal.”

“You’re talking like I asked for a ring size.”

Azzi gave her a look.

Caroline held up her hands. “Okay. Not a big deal. Totally normal to disappear for a night and show up looking like you wrestled a fever dream.”

Azzi smirked. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

Their food arrived, giving Azzi a moment of reprieve. She busied herself with syrup, focusing a little too hard on pouring it evenly. Caroline didn’t push further, but the silence between them stretched in that familiar way, not uncomfortable, just heavy with what neither of them was saying.

Azzi stabbed a piece of pancake, chewed slowly, then asked, “What’s the group chat say this morning?”

Caroline shrugged. “Mostly nonsense. Nika wants to go out tonight. KK’s being KK. Someone made a joke about Mia again, which I still don’t understand.”

Azzi’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Caroline clocked it.

But Azzi just said, “Mia’s a freshman. Paige tutors her sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really,” Azzi muttered, setting her fork down. “She’s just loud.”

Caroline didn’t say anything else. She just picked at her eggs, let Azzi sit in her own quiet.

They finished the meal without circling back. But when the check came, Caroline paid for both of them without comment, and Azzi didn’t argue. As they stood to leave, Caroline bumped her shoulder lightly and said, “Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

Azzi adjusted her sunglasses and gave her a small nod. “I won’t.”

She already had.

--------------------

The gym was half-lit and echoing when Paige pushed through the back doors, a worn-out hoodie tugged over her tank top, earbuds already in. The playlist was old, one of her summer grind mixes — all bass-heavy and wordless enough to drown things out. She liked the gym this way, still waking up, not yet buzzing with team chatter or Coach’s whistle. It gave her space to move without thinking. Just repetition and sweat.

She dropped her bag, tied her shoes tight, and picked up a ball without stretching. The first few jumpers were lazy, loose-wristed, just enough arc to feel it again. The fourth clanged off the rim and bounced hard. She chased it down, jaw already tight. Fifth went in. Sixth rattled, but fell. Seventh, smooth.

It was muscle memory. The one thing she could trust to not get complicated.

She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t notice Nika until she was standing at half court, spinning a ball on one finger like she’d been there all morning.

“You work out in silence now?” Nika called out.

Paige popped her earbuds out. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“You’re not that hard to find. Also, you missed breakfast.”

Paige caught the ball off a bounce and wiped her wrist across her forehead. “Didn’t feel like a crowd.”

Nika cocked her head. “You always feel like a crowd.”

Paige smirked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. You get my point.”

They moved into a rhythm without really talking about it, Nika rebounding, Paige shooting, the kind of flow that came from years of knowing each other’s timing. But even with the ease of it, Nika was watching her. Paige could feel it. The too-long silences. The way Nika let her miss four shots in a row without a comment. That wasn’t normal.

After the next make, Paige said, “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being observant.”

“Same thing.”

Nika tossed her the ball, then crossed her arms. “You’ve been quiet lately. Like, Paige quiet. Which is worse than regular quiet because it means you’re either overthinking or actively self-destructing.”

Paige let the ball bounce once before catching it again. “I’m fine.”

Nika gave her a flat look. “You disappeared last night. Didn’t answer the group chat. And now you’re here at nine in the morning like it’s therapy hour.”

“I just needed to shoot.”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige took another jumper. Swish.

Nika walked closer, dropped the ball she was holding. “Look. I’m not asking for a diary entry, but you know you can tell me shit, right?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “I know.”

“Then tell me why you’re acting like you got hit by an emotional semi-truck.”

“I’m not.”

“You only dodge like this when there’s a girl involved.”

Paige hesitated just for a second, and that was all Nika needed.

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Who is she?”

“There’s no girl.”

“Lie better.”

“There’s no relationship.” Paige corrected, catching her own slip too late.

Nika’s eyebrows went up. “So there is a girl. And something happened.”

Paige shook her head, turned back toward the hoop. “It’s not a big deal.”

Nika folded her arms. “You know, I was gonna invite you to Ted’s tonight. Whole crew’s going.”

Paige hesitated again, then said, “I don’t know if I’m up for...”

“That’s exactly why you’re coming.”

Paige shot again. Missed.

Nika grinned like she’d just won a bet.

They didn’t say anything for a while. Just the rhythm of ball on hardwood, sneakers squeaking, the low hum of music still leaking from Paige’s phone speaker in her pocket. But then Nika pulled her own phone out and tapped into the group chat with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Just to let the people know,” she said.

--------------------

Group Chat – “UConn Fam”

9:04 AM

Nika:

Ted’s tonight. 9PM. I expect chaos. No excuses.

—

1:57 PM

Aaliyah:

I'm in. who’s trying to black out responsibly

Aubrey:

Im 100% in

Ines:

Only if someone keeps KK away from the DJ booth this time

Ice:

Can’t promise anything

KK:

Is Paige even alive??? girl’s been dodging us like we’re taxes

Aaliyah:

Fr she’s been in stealth mode all week

KK:

She was probably with Mia again 👀👀

Caroline:

Who the hell is Mia???

Nika:

Freshman Paige tutors. loud. confident. definitely crushing.

KK:

Tutoring. suuure 😏

Ice:

Here we go again 💀

Paige is typing…

Nothing sent.

POV: Paige

She’d been lying on her bed, hair still damp from her post-gym shower, phone face up on her chest. She hadn’t opened the group chat when the first message came through that morning, just saw Nika’s Ted’s invite flash across her lock screen and ignored it. But this? She read through the thread three times.

Mia. Of course they brought her up.

Her thumbs hovered above the keyboard. She could’ve joked it off. Said something dumb. Given them the reaction they wanted.

But the idea of Azzi seeing her name tied to someone else made her stomach twist, not because of guilt. Because she didn’t want Azzi thinking it meant anything. Because it didn’t. Not even close.

She typed, “you’re all sick”, then deleted it. Locked the screen.

Let them think what they wanted.

POV: Azzi

Azzi had just gotten back from brunch and dumped her bag on the floor, hair still in a half-undone bun, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d eaten anyway. Smiled at the right times. Lied when it counted.

She hadn’t opened the group chat until the notifications stacked. Her eyes skimmed the thread. Then froze.

Paige was probably with Mia again 👀👀

The name hit harder than it should have. Azzi stared at it, thumb trembling just slightly over the screen. The kind of joke that wasn't really a joke. The kind of thing that clung.

Her jaw tensed. She exited the app. Turned her phone face-down on the windowsill.

She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t let herself care.

But her chest still felt hollow.

--------------------

POV: Azzi

Azzi adjusted her crop top in the mirror for the third time, smoothing her palms over her ribs as if the fabric would magically shift into something more comfortable. It was tight, on purpose. The kind of top she usually reserved for nights she needed to feel in control of something. Paired with high-waisted jean shorts and the same black sneakers she always wore when she wanted to look casual but still hot, it was… a choice.

“You sure you don’t want to bring a hoodie?” Caroline called from the kitchen.

Azzi looked down at herself. “No.”

Caroline popped her head into the room and let out a low whistle. “Okay, damn. You’re showing up tonight.”

Azzi turned slightly, checking her profile in the mirror. “Too much?”

“For a regular night? Maybe. For seeing your almost-hookup-you’re-trying-not-to-have-feelings-for? Perfect.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Caroline said sweetly, already walking away.

Azzi sprayed perfume lightly over her neck and wrists, then pulled her curls over one shoulder. Her lip gloss was subtle. Her earrings matched the thin chain around her throat. She looked effortless.

She didn’t feel it.

Ice was already by the door in camo pants and a tiny halter top. “We going or what?”

Azzi grabbed her phone, glanced at the lock screen. Nothing.

She wasn’t expecting anything. That’s what they’d agreed.

Still, she lingered for a beat before answering. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

POV: Paige

The mirror above her desk was streaked at the edges, but Paige leaned in close anyway, swiping on a quick coat of mascara with practiced ease. It was the only thing she ever wore, just enough to make her eyes stand out without looking like she cared. Her hair was freshly straightened, parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears, still warm from the flat iron.

She pulled her oversized white tee over her head, the cotton soft and slouchy against her skin. The neckline hung a little loose, just wide enough to show the strap of her sports bra and a peek of her collarbone. She adjusted it without thinking, then grabbed her black cargo pants from the back of her desk chair and stepped into them, cinching the waist tight. They sat low on her hips and hung just right, baggy, but not shapeless. She checked herself in the mirror. Oversized shirt, cargos, fresh sneakers, silver cross chain glinting at her collarbone.

Casual. Comfortable. Still hot.

“You look like the kind of girl that ruins lives,” Nika said from the doorway, one brow raised.

Paige smirked. “That’s the goal.”

KK piped up from where she was sprawled on the futon, holding her phone over her head. “Mia’s gonna combust if she sees you in that.”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from the windowsill. “She’s not going.”

“You sure?” KK grinned. “Girl looked ready to fake an ID just to find you.”

“I’m not going for Mia,” Paige said, shoving her phone into her pocket.

“Didn’t say you were,” KK sing-songed. “But she’s definitely going for you.”

Nika gave Paige a look, but kept her mouth shut. Just handed her the hoodie Paige had left crumpled on the chair. “Take this. In case you want to hide your shame.”

“I don’t have any shame,” Paige said, pulling it on but leaving it unzipped.

KK cackled. “Lies. But she looks fine as hell.”

Paige didn’t respond. Just grabbed her keys and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

But as they left the dorm, she tugged the hem of her shirt down once more, fingertips brushing her hips like she was already thinking about who might be looking.

--------------------

POV Azzi

Ted’s was packed, low ceilings, sweaty walls, and music that hit harder than it had any right to on a Thursday. The bass rattled through her ribs, all synth and bassline and bodies packed too close together. Azzi stuck near the front with Caroline and Ice at first, drink in hand, eyes scanning through the blur of familiar heads and half-lit faces.

Then she saw her.

Paige.

Standing across the room near the back wall, just a little outside the crowd, lit by the dull red glow of the overhead lights. Oversized white tee, black cargos, silver chain catching the flicker from the DJ booth. Straight hair tucked behind her ears, her posture loose like she didn’t care, but Azzi knew that look. It was curated. Paige looked relaxed, cool, unfazed.

She looked hot.

Azzi took a slow sip of her drink, already half warm in her hand. She wasn’t going to stare. She wasn’t.

Paige turned at the same moment, eyes locking with hers like it was choreographed. Azzi didn’t look away. Neither did Paige. The corner of Paige’s mouth lifted, not a full smirk. Just enough to say yeah, I see you too.

Azzi’s stomach dipped.

Then someone stepped into Paige’s space. A girl. Shorter, brunette, loud in the way freshmen always were. She leaned in close, too close, her hand brushing Paige’s arm in a way that made Azzi blink.

Mia.

Of course it was Mia.

She said something that made Paige laugh, head ducking slightly. Azzi’s jaw clenched. She didn’t wait for more. Just turned, walking straight toward the bar without a word.

POV Paige

She felt Azzi’s eyes before she saw her.

Across the room, tight black crop top, denim shorts, thighs out, curls framing her face like it was personal. Her skin glowed under the lights, bronze and smooth and soft in a way Paige remembered way too well. She couldn’t stop looking. Wouldn’t. Azzi looked unreal. And Paige knew she was doing it on purpose.

Paige’s fingers curled into her pocket, trying to keep cool.

Then Mia appeared out of nowhere, all perfume and confidence, brushing against Paige’s arm like it was nothing.

“Didn’t expect to see you out tonight,” she said, already half shouting over the music.

Paige kept her tone casual. “Didn’t expect to be here.”

“You look good,” Mia said, eyes flicking down. “Dangerous. In a fun way.”

Paige forced a laugh, but it didn’t land. Her eyes drifted back across the room, only Azzi was gone. A flash of dark curls weaving through the crowd, headed toward the bar.

Something tugged in her chest. Harder than she wanted it to.

“Hey, you want a drink?” Mia asked, still touching her.

Paige stepped back a half-step. “I’m good. I gotta...yeah. One sec.”

She didn’t wait. Just moved, slow but direct, slipping through the crowd until she found Azzi leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender, arms crossed under her chest like she was trying not to look annoyed.

“You ran off,” Paige said, sliding in beside her.

Azzi didn’t look at her right away. “Didn’t realize I owed you a debrief.”

Paige smirked. “You looked good tonight.”

Azzi finally turned to face her. “You looked busy.”

“That wasn’t” Paige sighed. “I didn’t ask her to come up to me.”

“Didn’t stop her from touching you.”

Paige leaned in a little closer. Her voice dropped low, just for her. “I didn’t want her.”

Azzi’s brow arched. “And who do you want?”

Paige’s mouth hovered near her ear, breath warm. “When can I fuck you again?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head slightly, lips brushing a smile against the rim of her glass. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“How tonight goes.”

Paige chuckled, low and quiet. “So I need to be on my best behavior?”

Azzi turned to face her fully now, her voice sweet but loaded. “No, Paige. You need to be interesting.”

The bartender arrived. Azzi ordered another vodka soda. Didn’t ask if Paige wanted one.

Then she turned and walked back into the crowd, leaving Paige standing there, smirking to herself, aroused and entirely off-balance.

--------------------

POV Paige

She watched Azzi disappear into the crowd, glass in hand, hips moving like she didn’t know she was being watched, or worse, like she did.

Paige stayed at the bar for another minute, pretending to care about nothing. Then she turned, rejoined Nika and KK near the edge of the dance floor, trying to act like her pulse wasn’t jackhammering in her throat.

The lights were low and hazy now, flickering between violet and red as the DJ dropped into something grimy and bass-heavy. Around her, everyone was moving. Laughing. Drunk.

Paige wasn’t.

She let KK shove a cup into her hand, took a sip without tasting it, eyes scanning through the blur of bodies. She found her fast.

Azzi was near the center of the floor now, surrounded by people but not with any of them, just dancing, head tipped back, curls sticking slightly to her neck. Her crop top rode high as her hands moved up, hair bouncing with the beat, the curve of her waist catching every flash of light like a fucking magnet.

Paige didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Nika nudged her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, eyes still locked.

Nika grinned like she already knew. “You’re about to do something stupid, huh?”

“Very.”

And then she moved.

It wasn’t a rush. Just a slow weave through the crowd, casual, discreet, like the music pulled her in. She let herself get swallowed by the pulse of it, drifting close, close, until Azzi’s back was just inches away.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t give a warning.

She just slid a hand low on Azzi’s hip and pulled her gently back into her front.

Azzi didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn.

She leaned into it.

Pressed her ass into Paige’s pelvis with a slow grind that matched the beat, one hand lifting to rest lightly behind Paige’s neck, the other snaking back to guide Paige’s grip lower.

Paige’s mouth parted slightly, breath catching. She moved with her, bodies aligned, letting herself get lost in it. Her hand flattened against Azzi’s stomach, anchoring them together as they moved.

It was heat. Friction. Payback.

No one around them noticed or if they did, no one would remember. Not in this crowd. Not in this chaos.

Azzi tilted her head back, mouth grazing the curve of Paige’s jaw.

Then, her lips at Paige’s ear, low and breathless:

“Let’s get out of here.”

Paige didn’t answer.

She just grabbed Azzi’s hand and led her through the crowd, fast, deliberate, like she already knew how the night was going to end.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #pazzi #paige x azzi #wlw

574 notes · View notes

skyguytoast · 4 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄....

warning: some of the headcanons are explict, +18.

a/n: hii again, i guess writing headcanons allow me to pour out my thoughts about this movie, hope you enjoy and if you fell like comment or reblog, this literally makes my day😻😻

• Sam would never openly admit he was in love—not at first. Instead, he’d annoy you just to get a reaction. A poke to your ribs, flicking a paper ball at your head, pulling your hair lightly when you weren’t paying attention. He thrived off of your exasperated looks and playful shoves, convincing himself it was just fun. But deep down, it scared the hell out of him—this thing he was feeling, this pull toward you he couldn’t ignore. • When Sam finally admitted his feelings to himself, he didn’t waste time hiding them from you. No grand gestures, no cheesy romance movie confessions—just raw honesty. One night, while you sat together, he fidgeted with his rings before finally muttering, "I think about you all the time. And I don’t know what to do about it." His voice was quiet, but his eyes held nothing but sincerity. • Your first kiss wasn’t planned—it just happened. You leaned in to kiss his cheek, and at the last second, he turned his head, your lips colliding in an accidental but electric moment. You froze, staring at each other for what felt like forever, before his hand found your face, adjusting the angle—then he kissed you for real, slow and deliberate, as if he was memorizing every second. • Sam never officially asked you to be his girlfriend —he just assumed you were. You liked each other, you spent all your time together, so why did you need labels? But when he noticed how much it would mean to you, he actually tried. He showed up at your place, awkwardly holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and grumbled, "So... do you, uh, wanna make this official or something?" • Sam wasn’t big on PDA, but he always made sure you felt his presence. A hand resting on your back, fingers hooked into your belt loops, a casual arm around your waist when he pulled you close. Sitting together, his hand would absentmindedly rest on your thigh, tracing tiny circles with his thumb. It was never too much—just enough to remind you that you were his. • Behind closed doors, though? Sam was needy. He always had to be touching you—arms wrapped around your waist, head resting in your lap, kissing your temple as he pulled you against his chest. At night, he’d curl up behind you, pressing sleepy kisses to the back of your neck before muttering, "You’re stuck with me, you know that?" like some sort of half-assed love confession. • He made you a playlist, and it was the closest thing to a love letter you’d ever get from him. The songs were scrawled onto the back of a CD cover, his handwriting messy but unmistakable. You skimmed the tracklist and smirked. "'Can’t Take My Eyes Off You'?" you teased. "Didn’t take you for a Frankie Valli guy." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "You like it, don’t you?" • Even though he’d never say it outright, Sam loved how you listened to him. When he rambled about obscure bands, the evolution of punk, or why a specific 1979 guitar riff was way better than its 1980s version, you actually listened. You asked questions, nodded at the right moments, and even remembered random facts he told you weeks ago. It made something in his chest go tight. • You had a habit of stealing his sweatshirts and t-shirts, and even though he grumbled, he secretly loved it. Seeing you in his oversized hoodie, drowning in his scent, made something primal in him soften. One day, he crossed his arms and smirked, "So, uh… think I could borrow my sweatshirt back? Or are you just gonna take over my whole closet?" • Sam wasn’t the type to talk about the future, but in quiet moments, he let it slip. Like when you were sprawled across his bed, talking about nothing, and he absentmindedly murmured, "You know, I’d go anywhere with you." Or when he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, "I don’t know how you put up with me, but I hope you never stop." Because even if he didn’t say the words I love you all the time, you felt it in every little thing he did.

+𝟏𝟖 (𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒)

• You were Sam's first time. Before you, he had only known the fleeting pleasure of his own hand and imagination. He had touched himself countless times, stroking his hardening cock until thick ropes of cum painted his stomach. But nothing could have prepared him for the ethereal, overwhelming sensation of being inside your tight, wet heat. Your body was his new temple, and he wanted to worship every inch of it. With each thrust, each deep stroke, Sam felt a primal connection, a claiming that transcended the physical. You were his now, in a way he had never belonged to anyone before.

• Sam whines and whimper whenever you give him a blowjob. When your luscious lips wrap around the head of his cock, Sam is helpless to keep quiet. Guttural moans and whimpers tear from his throat, his back arching off the bed as he fists the sheets for support. Tears of overwhelming sensation prick the corners of his eyes, his vision blurring as you take him deeper, your nose pressing against his pelvis. The wet heat of your mouth, the flick of your tongue, the gentle suction - it's all too much, yet not enough. Sam's balls tighten, his cock pulsing and throbbing against your tongue as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth, to fuck your face until he paints your throat with his release.

• Sam adores being at the mercy of your desires, in the delicious agony of giving up control. He loves the feeling of your body moving above him, your breasts bouncing hypnotically as you ride him with wild abandon. The sight of you taking your pleasure from him, using him for your own satisfaction, is the ultimate turn-on. Sam's hands roam your body, squeezing the globes of your ass, thumbing your nipples, mapping every dip and curve. He wants to learn you by touch alone, to commit your body to memory. As you chase your orgasm, Sam loses himself in the erotic dance of your coupling, drunk on the sensation of being so deeply, thoroughly fucked.

• But Sam also knows how to take charge when you need him to, to give you what you crave. He pins your wrists above your head, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he holds you down, immobilizing you completely. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that rocks the bed and shakes the headboard against the wall. The room fills with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, of your desperate moans and his whining grunts. Sam's blue eyes darken with lust and possession, his gaze boring into yours as he marks your body with his touch, his teeth, his cock.

• In the missionary position, Sam braces himself above you, his arms trembling with the effort of holding back, wanting to prolong the moment. As he feels his climax approaching, Sam buries his face between your perfect breasts, motorboating your cleavage and breathing in your intoxicating scent. He nips and sucks at the sensitive skin, determined to mark you as his. As his orgasm builds, Sam's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, no doubt leaving bruises behind. With a whimper that's part pleasure, part pain, Sam hilts inside you one last time as he comes, his cock pulsing and jerking, flooding your womb with his hot, thick seed. His face remains buried in your cleavage as his body shaking with the force of his release. In that moment, Sam knows he would do anything, anything at all, to keep you by his side, to hold onto this feeling of utter completion and belonging. You are his, and he is yours, and nothing will ever tear you apart.

#sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe smut #sam monroe #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader

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pucksandpower · 11 months ago

Text

Piece of Cake

Lando Norris x McLaren reserve driver!Reader x platonic!Oscar Piastri

Summary: McLaren hands their drivers a blindfold, a pair of headphones, and a roll of duct tape to bake burn a cake … it goes about as well as can be expected

Based on this request

You stroll into the McLaren motorhome, gym bag slung over your shoulder, earbuds in as you listen to your pre-race pump-up playlist. Being the team’s reserve driver is a dream come true — you get to be around the cutting-edge of Formula 1 and some of the brightest minds in motorsport.

And if chance should have it, you could even sub in for one of the race drivers. The thrill of potential sends a tingle down your spine.

As you round the corner, you nearly walk straight into Lando, who’s got his jaw set in that brooding, focused way he gets right before a race weekend. His eyes light up when he sees you.

“Y/N! There you are,” he says, a dazzling smile emerging. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You pull out your earbuds. “What’s up? Everything okay for the race?”

He runs a hand through his perfectly tousled hair. “Race? Oh, pfft, who cares about that? We’ve got bigger problems to solve today.”

You raise an eyebrow. Lando has a flair for the dramatic.

He goes on, “We’ve been roped into doing this absolutely mental social media challenge video. Something about … baking? I dunno, to be honest, I stopped listening after they said one of us had to do it blindfolded.”

“Blindfolded?” You repeat, already regretting asking.

That’s when Oscar pops his head out from the kitchen area, hastily re-taping his mouth shut with bright orange duct tape. He flashes you a goofy thumbs up.

“So get this,” Lando continues, not missing a beat, “You’re the blindfolded one. I have to wear noise-canceling headphones so I can’t hear anything. And poor Oscar ...” He gestures over his shoulder at the other driver, who gives an exaggerated shrug. “Can’t speak a word, obviously.”

You look between the two of them, dumbfounded. “And we’re meant to … bake? Like, an actual cake or something?”

“Yep!” Lando says brightly. Too brightly. He claps you on the shoulder. “Should be a right laugh, eh? Let’s get started then!”

And just like that, the chaos begins.

After some shuffling about and giggling fits from the boys, you find yourself standing at the kitchen counter, a thick blindfold secured over your eyes.

You strain your other senses, trying to get your bearings. The hum of the overhead lights, the chemical tang of cleaning products, and was that … vanilla? You give an experimental sniff. Definitely vanilla.

A presence appears at your side and you nearly jump out of your skin when a hand grasps your wrist, guiding your fingers to what feels like … a whisk? Lando leans in close, his cologne surrounding you.

“Okay, I can’t hear myself think in these bloody headphones, but I’m going to talk you through the recipe step-by-step,” he murmurs, warm breath tickling your ear. You shiver involuntarily. “Just, y’know … do whatever feels right, I guess?”

With that enormously unhelpful advice, he releases your wrist and you feel him retreat. You’re flying blind — quite literally.

Then there’s a tap on your other arm. You turn, whisk at the ready, as Oscar’s unmistakable muffled laughter reaches your ears. Of course he’s going to be no help, sealed lips and all.

“Alright guys, very funny,” you say, aiming a withering look somewhere in their general direction though you can’t actually see them. “If I’m meant to be baking something edible out of this mess, you’re going to need to give me a bit more guidance.”

At that, Lando ambles back over, grasping your elbow to steer you somewhere — hopefully towards an actual baking ingredient and not, like, the rubbish bin. A few stumbling, giggle-filled steps later and you’re deposited in front of what sounds like … mixing bowls? Containers? You tentatively reach out a hand.

Your fingers brush over cool ceramic and you let out a relieved breath. Okay, progress. You dip the whisk in exploratorily and feel … something powdery. Flour? You raise it to your face to sniff, but Lando stops you just in time.

“Oi, oi, don’t go getting a lungful of whatever that is!” He laughs, somehow sounding even more handsome when he’s cheerfully chiding you. You bite your lip to stifle a grin.

Things begin to take shape after that, with Lando’s surprisingly not-too-horrible instruction and Oscar’s spirited gesticulating. You quickly work out the basics — butter, sugar, flour, eggs. The wet and dry ingredients get sloppily combined in separate bowls.

All fairly standard baking stuff.

Until, that is, Oscar tries miming out the need for baking soda and you obviously can’t see his dramatic gestures. You have no clue. He positions your hands with frantic motions as you measure out a hilarious amount of the mystery powder into your mixture.

Before long, a questionable batter has been produced. Oscar helps wrestle the cake pans away from you before you can completely muddle everything. The boys shuffle around for a bit, presumably prepping the pans and oven and such.

Then it’s time to pour in the batter. You feel Lando’s sturdy hands again, this time wrapping around yours to guide the bowl’s contents out. Immediately, the thick, lumpy globs start splattering over the sides and onto the counter. Oscar’s choked laughter fills the air. Lando curses under his breath, so close you can feel the rumble of his voice on your back.

Somehow, you all get the pans mostly filled without completely obliterating the kitchen. Oscar takes them to pop in the oven while Lando stays by your side. And that’s when you feel it — his free hand straying to rest on your hip. Reflexively, you lean back against his solid frame. The heat between your bodies builds deliciously.

For a long moment, it’s just the two of you standing there in peaceful suspension, chests rising and falling in tandem. Then Lando leans his head down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You’ve got a bit of … uh, whatever that yellow stuff was in the bowl … just there,” he murmurs, voice low and impossibly alluring.

You inhale shakily. “Yeah? Why don’t you get it for me then?”

There’s the barest hesitation before his lips are on your neck, tongue darting out to lick away the wayward batter. You sag back against him, surrendering to the electrifying sensation. A tiny moan escapes your lips.

God, you want this man.

Just then, the smoke alarm goes off with an ear-splitting shriek, shattering the spell. Lando leaps back like he’s been burned.

“Bollocks! I mean, uh … can’t hear anything, totally oblivious over here!” He makes a show of adjusting his headphones primly.

You snatch off the blindfold finally, blinking against the sudden light. Sure enough, thick grey smoke is billowing out of the oven. Oscar is doubled over wheezing, tears of laughter streaming down his face as he yanks the ruined cake out with oven-mitted hands. The charred remains plop lifelessly onto the counter.

Waving the smoke away, you gape at the pitiful offering. “Well, so much for our baking skills.”

Lando peeks over, coughing exaggeratedly. “What’s that? Did someone say they wanted a follow-along tutorial on how to burn down the motorhome?”

You roll your eyes, trying for a scandalized look but can’t quite fight the grin tugging at your lips. Oscar just loses it again at his teammate’s antics, wiping at his streaming eyes as Lando joins in, shoulders shaking with mirth.

Watching them, deliriously happy despite — or maybe because of — the ridiculous disaster around you, affection blooms in your chest as warm and gooey as the cake should’ve been. The fearless racers, top drivers of a top team, international celebrities … and also just two lovable goofballs who make your heart flip in the silliest of ways.

Their laughter is infectious. You find yourself dissolving into giggles right along with them. At last, Lando slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose side hug. His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins down at you.

“Well, I don’t know about you two, but I could go for some proper dessert after that mess,” he says lightly. “My treat?”

Oscar immediately perks up, giving an enthusiastic double thumbs up and nodding vigorously.

You lean into Lando’s warmth, basking in the comfortable closeness. “You read my mind. Let’s get out of here before we burn something else down.”

With one last look at the charcoal brick that was once a cake, Oscar shakes his head ruefully. He strolls over and throws his arms around the two of you, squeezing tightly. For a moment, the three of you just stand there in a tangle of limbs and easy camaraderie, bodies shaking with residual laughter.

Pulling back at last, Oscar flashes you both a mischievous look as he points to his taped mouth, then mimes ripping it off. His silent way of asking if he can finally remove the duct tape obstacle.

“Oh, go on then, you’ve suffered enough,” Lando chuckles, waving a permissive hand.

Quick as a flash, Oscar yanks off the tape with a dramatic flourish, letting out a loud “FREEDOM!” He immediately grimaces, rubbing his jaw. “Oof, that stung a bit.”

“You’ll live, drama queen,” you tease, giving his arm a light shove.

He bumps you back with his hip, grinning impishly. “Well, it was all worth it to witness the two of you in absolute shambles from start to finish.”

Shouldering past you both, Oscar heads for the exit, shooting a roguish wink over his shoulder. “Now are we going to get some edible cake or what? I don’t know about you two, but I worked up an appetite with all the not talking I just did.”

Laughing again, you and Lando trail after him into the sunny paddock, bickering half-heartedly about who torched the baking attempt more thoroughly. A warm breeze riffles through the trees, carrying the scent of race fuel and possibility.

Another typical, wonderfully chaotic day at McLaren. You certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.

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cherrribun · 4 months ago

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Just read your first years with a stoner!reader and wanted to ask if you could write the same for the third years? Like they just catch the reader about to start smoking, eye contact, “You want one?”

TWST 3rd Years x Stoner! Reader

loving writing these, theyre so silly! not all are loyal to the exact prompt, but theyre variations of it! i love rook, i would kiss him if he was real :dreamy:

Characters: 3rd years!

TWS: Drug usage, weed of all kinds, some characters dislike the weed

a/n: sorry idias shorter, hes a bit difficult to write for me, but i shall improve!

Trey Clover

-trey has the mind of a worn out father of 3, the poor man

-hes very often busy, and despite this, does as much as he can to make time for everyone who is important to him

-heartslabyul is possibly the worst dorm to be a stoner in tbh

-often times you have to attend to the variety of colorfully bothersome 800 odd rules, all of which to be considered not only during class but afterward

-so no dice to our reader

-the most available hour to smoke is most often late at night, when most other students are asleep

-trey likes to wish everyone a goodnight before bed, wether theyre in the common room or their bedrooms!

-what a sweetie, if it werent for the fact you couldn’t wait for him to sleep one night, and decided to play chicken with footsteps down the hall

-the first footsteps weren’t trey, so you smoked, blowing it out the window

-and the next weren’t, nor were the ones after

-assuming trey had mistaken you for being in the common room and he had went to bed, you stopped trying to hide your pen when you heard walking

-of course, he enters your room with intentions of wishing you goodnight, when you are literally in the middle debating hotboxing the room

-”goodnight, dear—-”

-theres a good long moment of staring as trey is in some disbelief, you can see him grimace as he is assaulted by the stench of the weed

-you kind of just stare at one another, before you kind of just hold the pen out as if an invitation

-trey blinks

-”you know you really shouldn’t be doing that in the dorms. Its not good for you,”

-you got lectured for about 10 minutes before trey came over and gave you a goodnight hug

-he sheepishly kind of stood by the bed before snatching the pen and taking a hit lol

Cater Diamond

-lets be very honest, cater is a fiend for weed

-its practically in the dna of anyone with screentime exceeding 8 hours a day

-but cater isn’t dumb, he wouldn’t post about it explicitly, but has had “scandals” when he goes live on magicam, a little too giggly and slow while doing his little nightly routine

-when you come into the picture, you obviously shoot cater a follow on magicam, and he ofc follows you back

-and one day you happen upon his giggly streams, hes clearly tripping based off the way he cant stop laughing while messing with filters

-bless, youve found your people

-you would go up to him next time you saw him, and subtly ask him if he knows a mary jane

-he looks at you all stupid for a second before he catches on but seven be damned, hes estatic

-later that day, when its the evening turning night, you are of course enjoying the pleasures of your bong when a certain redhead is knocking on the door

-he immediately laughs the moment he sees your bong, pulling out his own pen when he shuts the door behind him

-”great minds think alike! I’m like totally not supposed to do this, but I brought secret tarts. no telling!!”

-cater is an active guy when high, he loves himself sativa, or whatever magical equivalent there is

-a smoke sesh with cater is a dream come true, hes entertainment enough with the way he literally can not sit still. he will go from telling you the latest gossip to playing his playlist and begging you to dance with him, all the while snickering and laughing

Lilia Vonrouge

-lilia is a very peculiar man, as many may be aware

-700 years old, a calloused war veteran who struck down foes larger than life, raising silver himself

-and also a gamer, 5’1, and owner of eclectic “vases”

-its rather safe to say when he stumbles upon you in the middle of taking a hit, he had known for a long time already

-hes not necessarily a stalker, but he does hang around per say (literally)

-and his “stumbling” upon you was very likely him hanging upside down in your room, likely planning on scaring you for the fun of it, but got interested as you looked about suspiciously before pulling out your little draw-string bag of buds

-he promptly blows his cover, scaring you yes, but hes eager to join you

-”my my, smoking in school? diasomnia no less? Youve a rebellious streak in you, most kids do dont they?”

-old man

-i jest, yet he does recall when weed was first localized for humans and the exact date when each strain was curated

-i dont really know if he would necessarily ask you if he could join, more so holding his hand out expectantly

-but you obviously havent rolled shit yet, so awkwardly handing him a bud, you watch in horror as he just. Eats. the bud

-lilia high isnt very different from normal lilia, honestly, hes possibly more tolerable if youre a fan of “back in my day” speeches

-he probably requires alot of weed to really feel much too, hes got a tolerance from over the years, you know. best to keep some extra if you want to keep the man around!

Malleus Draconia

-malleus is a bit of a buzz kill to be quite frank

-not in your usual sense however

-when malleus walks into your dorm, having picked up on that ever peculiar scent of a certain herb, he lays into you

-but not in the ‘smoking is bad for you!’ way

-in the ‘what is cannabis’ way

-malleus had grown up incredibly sheltered in briar valley, he barely speaks to a soul outside of lilia whom isnt always the best company

-he literally has no idea what the hell weed is, its simply never been introduced to him in anyway

-after a long explanation of what drugs are, how you enjoy the sensations of being high and buzzy, how you can get so hungry and sleepy or excited and stupid from the herb

-hes like a mix of a grandpa and a toddler sitting at the edge of your bed. hes got the mentality of a hardened ancient and the heart of a child

-he gladly accepts your offer of the drug, but doesn't heed your advice when you tell him not to hold back the coughs

-malleus hacking up a lung isn’t a sight many have ever been able to see!!

-it takes him a good amount of weed ingested to get any sort of high, much like lilia, but not nearly as much as the bat

-if youve ever thought malleus was brooding and quiet, youve simply never seen him on drugs. hes silent, staring, and unmoving, starkly like the gargoyles he enjoys so much

Idia Shroud

-idia smokes. he has a screen time thats so abysmally terrible its almost a cruel joke

-idia is a fiend for indica, he loves feeling silly and sleepy, and it soothes his anxiety quite well

-so he accepts to smoke with you

-anticipate a long, thoughtful reflective conversation when you're havinf a sesh with the guy

-he has shower thoughts to share for sure, and some crazy stories to tell you from time to time

-honestly with the way he speaks, you might forget he has indepth statstics about every persons social levels!

-he can lock in like crazy when hes high, dont be mistaken, however

-when not letting you in on his interesting inner world, hes got his eyes firmly locked onto a screen, absolutely crushing the poor souls who had the misfortune to be in a game queue with him

-however, he can't watch anime for the life of him when high, without being directly involved, he succumbs to the sleepiness almost instantly

Vil Schoenheit

-you have some balls to even think about smoking in the pomfiore dormitory, let alone when youre dating the vil schoenheit!

-vil has absolutely zero time for such lowly activities such as smoking weed!

-you have to get very creative with it, edibles are your best bet in such a pickle

-alas, vil insists on sampling one of your brownies, and dear god, no matter what you say, he demands it

-when you try and scoot around why he can't have one, he dramatically storms off and you have an angry vil to handle for the night

-he takes one during the night, and you get to wake up to vil in a distress you have never seen before

-”dearest, were those *marjiuana* brownies?”

- vil relaxed after you confirmed it, and let him know he wasn't dying, but he tried his best to scold you for smoking

-”this is simply unbelievable! have you no consideration for my image!?”

-too bad hes got the attention span of a goldfish while high

-show him something on your phone,let him have it, and you are set

-the wonderlands equivalent of tiktok is like a life line for you while this man is absolutely stoned out of his mind

-youve got a nice lecture waiting for you in the morning, try and enjoy him so soft and not uptight in this moment, yeah?

Rook Hunt

-rook is absolutely adorable

-the mans got the purest heart one could ever encounter, and adores anything to do with his betrothed

-when he encounters you and your penjamin, hes got a lovely impromptu poem for you to listen to

-”mon amour, you have stolen my heart in ways not uet discovered by the greater world! tu es éblouissante, ma cheri!--” yapyapyap

-all of which his is dramatic way of saying he doesn't care you smoke

-when you end up offering him some, trust, hes on one knee infront of you like hes proposing

-hes terribly down bad

-when hes high, oh my god, you would need to sew his mouth shut in order to keep him quiet

-he babbles absolutely nothing short of nonsense, almost all of which is in french

-”tu as volé mon coeur, tu es incroyable mon cheri. que ferais-je pour t’épousee á cer instant précis mon petit chou”

-hes also koala hugging you at all times, youre stuck to the bed with him while he babbles and pets you, i hope you dont mind being very warm!

Leona Kingscholar

-well….im not sure leona would care in anyway about someone smoking in the dorms, let alone his lover

-leona is supposed to report it, its a huge offense in terms of academics, but, is it truly that serious?

-absolutely not to this big ol’ lion

-he doesn't smoke himself, hes not into it, and if you ever offer, he declines

-”herbs are all yours, herbivore”

-he thinks hes funny for saying that (hes not)

-but ruggie will totally smoke with you, and leona gets agitated when you two are off having a little sesh together and the lions sitting and sulking on the bed

-why wont you sit and cuddle!??!

-you offer him the joint while you and the hyena are giggling, and he rolls his eyes and finally gives in

-”fine, whatever, its probably nothin’”

-oh my god, he absolutely loves it

-he sleeps like an absolute rock, head on your lap while you and ruggie are messing around and eating food

-during the brief moments hes awake, he grabs tou and pulls you into a death hug, and falls back asleep

-you wriggle out while laughing, repeat cycle

-leona can not help but smile when he sees you swooning while ruggie gags, only to realize the lions up and squeal and squirm away

-yeah, hes joining you next time again for sure

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demie90s · 29 days ago

Note

request for model! reader who is pretty with a mean streak, impatient and snappy new yorker vibe, chats and makes fun of everyone/super sarcastic on the team but becomes really sweet and soft when talking to caitlin, and caitlin loves how special it is talking to her, but no one believes that she is soft until the team overhears caitlin on the phone with reader and they are shook

She’s Only Sweet to Me

Caitlin x Model!ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:Your that girl—model-pretty, sharp-tongued, New York raised with a mouth that could make a ref cry. Caitlin’s the only one who gets a different version of her.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Slow burn, sports romance, slice of life, banter & fluff

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Strong language, sarcasm, affectionate nicknames, team-wide whiplash, Caitlin being loved correctly

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.4k

ᴠɪʙᴇ:“You’re literally annoying.” / “And you’re literally 6’0 and still missed a layup.” —5 minutes later on the phone— “Hi baby… you eat today? You sound tired, I miss you.”

First Person — Caitlin’s POV

Everyone on the Fever thinks I’m lying. Like, actually lying.

They’ve seen her—tall, gorgeous, snatched hair, designer everything, iced-out nameplate that says “rude.”

She comes to games in sunglasses she refuses to take off, tells the refs they suck with zero hesitation, and once called Aliyah “adorable in a puppy way.”

Last week, she looked up from her phone, smacked on her gum, and told NaLyssa:

“You could’ve blocked that shot, but I get it. Maybe your spirit left your body.”

No one’s safe. Not even the coaching staff. She’s sarcastic, impatient, always talking shit And somehow? She’s my girlfriend.

Which no one believes.

Because apparently I’m “too nice” and she “probably doesn’t even like people.”

But they don’t get it. She melts for me. And today? They’re about to find out.

We’re sitting in the recovery room after practice. Everyone’s scrolling, chatting, decompressing. I’ve got ice on my ankle and my phone buzzes.

🖤 lil meanie: “u done?? pick up pls. miss u”

I smile before I even unlock my screen.

“Hey, baby.”

Her voice is so soft I literally sink back into the cushions.

“Hi, pretty girl… you okay? Did they overwork you again?”

I can feel heads turning. But I keep going, like it’s normal. Because to me, it is.

“A little,” I say. “I’ve got ice on. But I’m okay now. You calling made it better.”

I hear a dramatic gasp from the next table. I glance up. Erica’s looking at me like I just revealed a secret identity.

“She’s still being mean to everybody else?” I whisper.

“Ugh, yes,” she sighs. “Someone told me I looked ‘too good to be stressed’ so I’d better not miss my free throws.”

Pause.

“That someone was me. But still.”

I laugh, covering the mic. But she hears it.

“Are they around?” she asks. Her voice drops, warm and teasing. “Are you hiding me?”

And now I’m grinning like an idiot.

“No,” I murmur. “They’re just… shocked. You’re kind of ruining your whole brand right now.”

She laughs—this ridiculously cute little sound.

“Should I hang up before they find out I make you playlists and send you ‘drink water’ texts like I’m your mom?”

It’s too late.

“WHO IS THAT?” Kristy yells.

Grace is frozen mid-protein shake. Aliyah’s halfway off the table like she needs answers immediately.

“That’s her? The meanie?? The model???”

I stay calm. I blink.

“Yeah. She’s sweet when she likes you.”

“YOU MEAN TO TELL ME—”

Erica’s hands are in the air like she’s testifying in church. “—THAT IS THE SAME GIRL WHO CALLED ME A ‘SPIRITUAL CHARITY CASE’??”

I shrug, smug.

“She tells me I’m her peace.”

And then. Without warning, I put her on speaker.

“Hi,” I say.

“They’re all here. They heard everything.”

There’s silence.Then.

“…I hope every one of you pulls your hamstring in warmups.”

“There she is,” Grace laughs.

Aliyah claps. “Order has been restored.”

But me? I’m still smiling. Because the second I take her off speaker, she’s right back to it.

“Sorry you had to share me for a second,” she murmurs.

“Now… tell me what you want for dinner, baby.”

Yeah. She’s only sweet to me. And they finally get it.

287 notes · View notes

smartkookiee · 4 months ago

Text

Vampire Boy || Ch.1 - jjk.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 𓆩♱𓆪 pairing: vampire!Jungkook x human!Reader (afab, she/her) 𓆩♱𓆪 content: 18+ explicit content, established relationship au 𓆩♱𓆪 chapter warning/tags: golden retriever vampire boyfriend jk, "27"jk 26 reader, vampire activities, blood drinking, fluff, some angst, SMUT, blood kink?? Oh they are so in love its disgusting, so much domesticity in this chapter, I love them I'm sobbing, VAMPIRE NEW YEARS, big gatsby like party, this party is crazy extravagant, like blood and money galore, little bit of gore this chapter (nothing serious), drinking, swearing, intoxication, crying, reader is a librarian, vampire history and vampire war, angsty moment for yoongi and monique, yoongi history, Jungkook really likes your blood, my own vampire rules??, Jungkook is so whipped, y/n is a little bit of a brat, they are soooo down bad for each other, vampire!Jimin, vampire!Jin, vampire!Hoseok, vampire!Yoongi, other vampire characters (the girlies) unprotected sex (Jungkook literally cannot get y/n pregnant), cream pie, fingering, dick riding, so much kissing, hickies (sort of), blood drinking during sex, god they cannot stay off each other like CHILL (lmao), discussion of feeding on animals and people, this chapter is LOOONNGGG but so fun and I loved writing it 𓆩♱𓆪word count: 23.8K 𓆩♱𓆪Series Masterlist𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 Next Chapter𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪 PLAYLIST 𓆩♱𓆪 𓆩♱𓆪If you want to be added to the tag list comment on this post!! fic crossposted to ao3 𓆩♱𓆪a/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO WAITED SO PATIENTLY FOR THIS. I HOPE THIS FIRST CHAPTER IS TO YOUR LIKING IF YOU SEE ANY MISTAKES NO YO DIDN'T<3 ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Fumbling with your keys, you tried to wedge them between your fingers, your pocketknife a reassuring weight in your other pocket. It was late, dark, and winter had a way of making everything eerily silent.

Tonight, you were in charge of closing the library. Your coworkers lived in opposite directions, leaving you to navigate the cold streets alone. Two routes lay before you: the long way, well-lit but littered with rowdy bar-goers and men who were a little too comfortable getting a little too close, or the shortcut through the dimly lit alley but was a straight shot to the other side. One was safer but full of potential annoyances; the other was just outright stupid.

Cold nipped at your exposed skin, and you shivered. You could already hear the noise from up the street and you didn’t have the energy to fight anyone off tonight. Nope. Not worth it tonight. You turned up the street and ducked into the alley, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself.

Quick and easy. No stopping. Don’t look at anything.

The sound of rain dripping from pipes and rooftops was all you could hear. It masked everything else, which, in hindsight, made it even worse because now you couldn’t hear what you were actively trying to keep an ear out for. Until—

Clang.

Could have been an animal but you knew better though. You could tell, someone was definitely behind you. As light on their feet as they were, you could pick out the steps they took.

You reach into your pocket. Pulling out the knife. Slipping it open and gripping it tight in your hand. Not your best self defense weapon it works for a good scare.

“All right let’s get this over with.” You mutter under your breath twisting around on your heel, the person was obscured, the darkness surrounding them. “Might as well show yourself.”

The dark figure stepped out into the alleyway. Taking a wide stance, placing their hands on their hips. Superhero. You cocked an eyebrow before they spoke in a low rumbling tone, “I’m Batman.”

Realization settled over you and all of your nerves faded away instantly.

“Jungkook!” You whined. Folding your knife back up looking down and putting it back in your pocket. His presence appears next to you with a push of the wind around you.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist pulling you into him. Kissing you on the cheek. Nudging his nose into your neck and breathing in deeply. Taking in all of your scent. “God you smell good.”

This is Jungkook, your boyfriend, and evidently a vampire.

“You know you scared the shit out of me?” You hit him in the shoulder, trying to shove him away but failing. His eyes were wide and his red irises dilated with intent. He had a shit eating grin plastered across his face as well as he pulled his face away from you.

“I’m sorry. I seem to recall you promising me you wouldn’t cut through dark sketchy alleyways anymore.” He pouts but his tone was serious, you roll your eyes. You manage to pull yourself away and continue down the alley, Jungkook right on your tail.

“I seem to recall you saying you wouldn’t check up on me like this after work.” You cross your arms over yourself preserving the warmth you had.

“I was out and I was going to walk with you as a surprise! Then I saw you duck into the alleyway.” His hand looped through one of your arms and around your elbow, pulling it free from its fold. “This century has phones baby, I may be old but I know how it all works. Just call me next time you don’t feel safe.”

You let out an annoyed sigh, knowing he’s right. “I know I know. It was stupid and I was just trying to make it back quick tonight. I know it was stupid.”

“I just want you to get home in one piece please.” Jungkook whined, sliding his hand down to wrap his hand in yours. Cold fingertips enveloping your fingers. “I’m also not the only vampire in these parts”

“You’re all cold.” Holding his cold fingers between both of your paths to warm them up. You tease trying to lighten the mood and it seems to work some. A small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Mmm, well I have you now to warm me up.” Not that Jungkook could tell the difference but you definitely could.

Vampires weren’t just ice cold like in the movies. Their temperature adapted to their surroundings like bottles of water. Fresh blood warmed them up, heaters helped, but they couldn’t actually feel the temperature. Jungkook made an effort to stay warm for you, though. You were hot blooded and having a boyfriend that stayed roughly 20 degrees colder, he tried to warm himself up just enough for you.

Because of that, that’s how you noticed it; his fingers trembled slightly, which was definitely not a reaction to the cold air outside.

“You’re shaky.” You frowned, the quivering clear.

"...Just a little hungry." Jungkook shook his head, rolling his shoulders, as if he could shake off the craving, bury it beneath sheer willpower.

You frowned, your gaze flicking to his hands. "You get the shakes when you push it too far. You should go get something to eat. I’m sure there are some drunk guys back there you could snack on."

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. "It's fine. I'll eat when we get home."

But you knew better.

You knew the way his pupils dilated too wide the moment he saw you. How his gaze kept flickering to your throat, your wrist, anywhere he could hear it. Feel it. The steady, pulsing rhythm of your heartbeat drumming against his restraint.

Jungkook was careful, always careful. But hunger had a way of gnawing at even the most controlled instincts. You saw it in the way his jaw tensed, how his fingers flexed, how his breath stuttered just slightly every time you moved too close.

He was trying so hard to ignore it.

Trying not to listen to the blood rushing beneath your skin.

Trying not to stare.

“Just take some of mine tonight.” Your voice cut through the noise of your own blood.

Jungkook perked up a little, eyes dilating further. “Really?”

“Don’t get too excited, just a little bit. I still have to work tomorrow.” You smirked, dragging him along behind you.

Jungkook tilts his head, “You make it sound like I only see you as a blood bank or something.” He looks down to his feet and a pout on his lips. You stop his train of thought though and bring both of your hands to both of his cheeks.

“I’m teasing.” You rub his cheeks with your thumbs, the coldness seeping away with the warmth you present them. “Take what you need vampire boy. Are you going to sit here and act like you’re not excited about it?”

He nods his head from side to side, chewing on his bottom lip. A hint of a fang peaking out. “Anything to do with you makes me excited.”

“Don’t be gross.” You shove him again, but he doesn’t let you go. “Let’s get home and you can take what you need.”

Jungkook hesitated but you had that determined look in your eyes. You weren’t going to let this go so easily, “Fine, but I’m having some other blood first!”

There was a certain giddiness in your steps now.“Oh I’m gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“That should not be the main reason to let me drink from you!” Jungkook protested and you dragged him along the streets swinging your connected hands. A small giggle falling from your lips.

You really didn’t mind when he drank off of you and you really did get the best sleep after since you would be literally drained. Jungkook never understood how you couldn’t really mind doing it but he didn’t find much he was surprised with you anymore.

Your ability to just be so cool and casual about the vampire things sometimes still throws him off though. He also loved it that you were just so cool because a lot of people weren’t and have not been. You had a certain curiosity and willingness to learn.

None of it scared you, it was actually cool to learn that vampires were real. Although you didn’t really initially believe it when Jungkook told you what he was.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Two and a half years ago.

Jungkook was extremely nervous.

This was a conversation he had meant to have for a long time. A year, maybe longer. He always found reasons to delay it, to avoid it. It wasn’t going to be a problem telling you; he had gotten the go-ahead from everyone. Actually, he’d had it for over a year now, but their approval didn’t matter. What mattered was what came after he told you.

Were you going to freak out? Would you believe him? Would you be mad?

A million different scenarios had run through his head all week about how this could go. The possibilities gnawed at him so deeply that he had unintentionally been avoiding you. Not responding to texts or calls as quickly. Avoiding hanging out or dates. It was entirely out of character. The longest the two of you had ever gone without seeing each other was five days, and that was only because of a vacation. Now, over a week had passed, and his silence was suffocating you.

You didn’t think anything was wrong but this sudden distance and silence from Jungkook was freaking you out. Had you done something or said something to make Jungkook mad? Did you do something that was upsetting? Was he just not feeling it anymore? You had broached the topic of moving in together recently and you wondered if that had made Jungkook uneasy. Everything seemed fine up until now. Almost perfect even, then suddenly Jungkook had completely closed himself off.

You were jumping to the worst conclusions, the biggest one, a break up. Which is what you had been emotionally preparing for. Jungkook was going to dump you and you would just have to deal with that. Easily, you could already feel this would be the biggest break up of your life. The both of you had already shared and done so much together, you couldn’t imagine giving yourself to someone else the same way.

That’s when Jungkook said he wanted to come over tonight to talk about something, you were doing everything in your power to keep yourself composed. You had been shaking and anxious since you got the text.

Even worse when you get the knock on the door.

With your hands still shaking and your heart pounding in your ears. You twist the knob and pull the door open, Jungkook standing with a soft smile on his face standing in front of you. The smile disarming you slightly.

“Hi.” You said, forcing a smile back as you tried to hide the storm brewing inside you.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook hesitates a step forward, but can sense some unease coming from you. “Can I come in?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t opened the door enough that he could enter. You clear your throat, “Yes… obviously.” You open the door and step to the side so he can come in. The pet name was a good sign but you are still on edge.

As he walked in, the silence in your studio apartment felt deafening. Every creak of the floorboards, every breath you took, seemed to echo. You closed the door, the sound reverberating through the small space, amplifying the tension. Jungkook paused in the middle of the room, uncharacteristically quiet, his steps heavy with unspoken words.

You moved around him, trying to read his face. He looked tired and conflicted, his teeth tugging at his bottom lip. He avoided your gaze. With your anxiety spiking, you retreated to the bed, the only real place to sit in your tiny space. Perched on the edge, you gripped the blanket beneath you like a lifeline.

“You wanted to talk?” Your voice was a little hoarse. Feeling like your entire body was about to start shaking.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers fidgeting as if searching for something to anchor him. “I… I don’t really know how to say this.” He began, pacing back and forth. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long, and now that I’m here, I… I don’t know how.”

The growing sense of dread in your chest felt unbearable. You couldn’t take it anymore. “If…” You paused, swallowing the lump in your throat. “If you’re just going to dump me, please don’t drag it out. Just say it.”

Jungkook's eyes widened for a moment, “What?”

You look at him, seeing the visible confusion on his face. “That’s what this is right? You wanted to talk… and that typically means you want to end things.”

“Y/N.” Jungkook starts but with a wave of your hand you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. If that’s what this is, it's fine, just please don’t make me wait to hear it.” You hadn’t realised but you were digging your fingers into your mattress now. So hard your knuckles had gone white.

Jungkook paused for a second before he laughed, tilting his head. Eyes sympathetic. “Oh baby.” He comes over and kneels on the ground in front of you.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You whine, his smile felt almost mocking now.

“I’m not laughing at you. I’m not breaking up with you.” Jungkook sighs, he reaches and takes your hands in yours. Lacing your fingers together, “I love you, I don’t want to break up.”

You stay silent, his face has returned to its familiar soft nature versus the stressed one a moment ago. He wasn’t lying. “What?”

“We aren’t breaking up.” Jungkook kisses both of your hands, soothingly. Holding them close. Watching your face morph from concern to relaxation as his words settle in. “Why would you think that?”

You let out a heavy sigh you didn’t realize you were holding in, “Oh… is asked about moving in. I thought I had freaked you out or something and you were going to bolt.”

Jungkook laughed some more, just a quiet laugh under his breath. “You really think asking me to move in together freaked me out? We basically live together already.”

Your mouth falls into a pout, “I don’t know! You were all quiet and weird! I didn’t see you at all this week and you were barely talking to me!” You lay back on your bed, covering your face with your hands. Maybe you did jump to too many conclusions, but all the behavior this week was weird.

Jungkook gets to his feets but lays down next to you on your bed. “I do have something to tell you and it is serious. I just didn’t know how I wanted to tell you yet so I didn’t want to talk to you until I figured out how I wanted to do it.” He rested his hand on your stomach, wanting to pull you closer but letting you stay where you were.

You peak between your fingers to look at him. Jungkook's eyes are full of love only for you and no malicious intent behind them. “Is it going to give me a heart attack? Like the one you almost just gave me?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Might be confusing but hopefully no heart attack.”

“Well tell me. I can handle basically any news now.” You both sit back up on your bed. You pull your legs under you so your legs are crossed together.

Jungkook paused. Now he really had to face the music. You could tell whatever it was really was serious and probably wasn’t going to be easy. He just needed to do it. He just needed to rip the bandaid off and say it. Get it off his chest. There was no easy way, and he would spend a lifetime explaining if he needed to.

“Okay.” He stayed quiet for a moment, “I-... shit this is hard.”

You watched as he figured this out in his mind. You could tell he was really jumping through hoops. You, trying to break the tension, say, “You’re not pregnant right? I’m not ready to be a dad.”

You laugh at your own joke but Jungkook just rolls his eyes with a smile. Knowing you aren’t serious and just trying to make this easier. Jungkook continues, “This is serious!”

“Sorry. Take your time. You know you can tell me anything.” You say with sincerity, reaching a hand to rub his arm.

“I know.” He nodded, “Everything… will be different. Everything will change.”

“Okay, now you are really making me nervous.” You shift uncomfortably on the bed, you really hoped something wasn’t wrong. Like he was sick or something.

He looks between your eyes for a moment, the whole nature of the relationship you two had may just crumble in a moment. Everything that you knew would suddenly be unknown. That terrified him. He couldn’t predict what would happen next. He can say everything perfect and could be just right and still not know what you would say next.

Just say it.

“I’m… I’m a vampire.” Jungkook whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together not fully hearing him, “What?”

Jungkook takes in a long long deep breath, meeting your eyes. “I’m a vampire.”

Silence fell over the room. Neither of you said a thing, you were just staring between Jungkook's eyes. Trying to find a lie. Trying to find a reason? Because this surely had to be a joke. He had to be joking.

“Honey.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee for a moment. You reflexively pull it back.

“Wow.” You say, a small shake to your head. A certain mistiness to your eyes. “I’ve heard a lot of excuses but this really takes the cake.” You stand up from the bed back facing to Jungkook. His face contorted into concern watching you.

“What? What are you talking about?” Jungkook moves so he’s sitting on the side of the bed now.

You turn around, clear hurt in your eyes. “You know it actually would have been kinder to just dump me versus saying something insane to get me to dump you. If that’s what you want then—”

Jungkook stands for a moment, pausing your train of thought. “I’m-I’m not lying though.”

“Yeah, right. I’m a vampire. That’s rich.” You start laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Trying to overwhelm the pain forming in your chest.

“Have I ever given you a reason to think I’m lying? Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me?” Jungkook steps toward you and you stand your ground. You don’t answer him but just shake your head. You looked angry and so he was thinking of anything he could do. “Why would I suddenly make up a wild story to get you to break up with me?”

You let out a noise of annoyance,“Because you wanted an easy way out, I don’t know!” A small huff trailing behind your words.

Jungkook places both of his hands on your shoulders, “Y/N this is real. I’m telling you the truth. I love you, I would never lie to you about something like this. I am… a vampire. I’m not trying to make an excuse, this is real.” His grip was tight on you, tighter than you had ever felt before. Unnaturally so.

Nothing in the way he was speaking seemed like a lie. No malice or farce, which was the part that was confusing you the most. It was completely sincere. As far as you had known he had never lied to you. That little voice of self preservation was still ringing in your mind though, telling you to get out. To run. “If… Well… Then… Then prove it.”

“What?”

“If you’re a vampire then there are surely ways to prove it… So prove it.” You look into his eyes now. If he had any chance of saving this it was now, he had to show you everything or else you would be done. Which he was more than ready to do.

Jungkook’s mouth did move but you very distinctly heard him say, Okay. Like an echo inside your mind you almost couldn’t convince yourself he hadn’t just said it.

He brought his hands up to his eyes, pinching something, contacts. He took them from both eyes, pulling out a contact lens case from a pocket and placing them back in respectively. Jungkook lifted his head again to reveal not the dark brown ones you were so used to but ones that were a deep crimson. Could almost look brown in certain lights, but they were definitely red. Then Jungkook opened his mouth and you watched as two sets of fangs detracted down over where his k9’s were. Two long and what you could only imagine were incredibly sharp fangs.

Jungkook just took in your reaction, you blinked a few times standing in silence. No change in expression to show what you were thinking or feeling. The sweet boy you had come to know and love had transformed in front of your eyes. Although his new features seemed to initiate a fight or flight response in you, Jungkook could sense it. He tried to reach out to you but you flinched, just enough for him to notice.

He wanted desperately to bring you closer, but he needed to let you take it all in.

“I know. It’s… a lot. I just couldn’t keep it a secret anymore—”

“This is so cool!” Your face morphed into a look of complete fascination. Voice shooting up and octave. Your sudden change in demeanor threw Jungkook off, you took quick steps toward him and suddenly you were pushing him to sit on the bed again. You fingers swiftly move into his mouth holding his lips up away from his gums, inspecting his teeth.

Jungkook sat dumbfounded and eyes wide for a moment, he wasn’t prepared nor expecting this kind of outburst. You were gripping onto each side of his head, Moving it from side to side so you could get a good look at them. They were pretty big and seemed to just come out of nowhere from the roof of his mouth. Completely replaced where his regular teeth were. They were pretty and almost seemed to fit him more naturally than his regular teeth. Your thumbs were still pulling at his lips revealing his gums, viewing where the fangs hide.

“So these just retract and detract? Do you do it on command? Does it hurt?” You say as your lean your eyes close into his mouth viewing the anatomy. Jungkook stifled a laugh because he wasn’t really able to get words out with your thumbs in his mouth. You traced one of them with your thumbs, but accidentally pricked yourself on the end of it. “Okay, sharper than I thought.”

The smell of your blood being so close to Jungkook's nose made his pupils dilate instantly, you watched it happen but Jungkook kept himself still. It was always a natural reaction to blood.

“Careful.” Jungkook pushed your hands away while holding your wrists in his hands. “They hide up inside of my skull and I can do it on command. It doesn’t hurt anymore though.”

“Show me again.” You smile, a small hint of anticipation lacing your voice. “Please?”

Jungkook nods, opening his mouth. He releases one of your hands so you can push back his lip again with your thumb. As Jungkook pushes his fangs in and out of their place and you can visibly see how they move up and down. You were completely mesmerized by the action. Just watching his fangs seems to take their rightful place in his mouth. It was so weird to watch but also extremely fascinating. You let his lip go at a certain point once your curiosity had been satisfied. Jungkook traced the inside of his lips with his tongue to comfort the muscle that had been forced back.

You found your fascination had moved from his teeth back to his eyes. “You wore color contacts this whole time?” Your hands found their way to his cheeks, looking between his eyes. Tracing, with your eyes, the new unfamiliar color that lined them. These were his real eyes.

“Can’t exactly walk around with red eyes without some suspicion or stares.” Jungkook smiled, he could relax again, placing his hands on the side of your body as you just observed him. No, inspected him, like you were in a lab. He didn’t mind, you could ask him anything and he will tell you whatever you want.

You were still stuck on his eyes. They were such a dark red, velvety. They suited him well. The same ones you had looked at so many times but now you were actually seeing them. “They’re beautiful.”

“Really?” His heart felt like it skipped a beat in his chest, your first complement of his true appearance.

“I love them. They’re… I don’t even have the words. They’re… you. This is you.” Because this is the first time you really were seeing him, seeing him for everything. You thought you knew him before but it was all complete now.

“This is me.” Jungkook whispered, a weight finally being taken away from him. No more hiding.

You just stand there quietly staring at him, imprinting this moment in your memory. Taking in every detail. But you couldn’t help but have a million different things also running through your mind. A million different questions and a million thoughts about what this means now.

Jungkook could see you running through every question in your mind, just waiting for you to ask. He had nothing in his head though, nothing he wanted to think about. You were here, and you weren’t mad. You were here and you were excited. You were still here and you weren’t sending him away.

“I have just… so many things I want to ask.” You rock a little bit on your feet. Anticipation eating you from the inside out.

“Ask anything. I’ll tell you whatever you want.” Jungkook jumped on the end of your sentence, eager, insistent. He wanted to give you every answer. He would give you everything.

“Well… uhh… I don’t know. Um.” Your mind flipped through every vampire story you had ever heard, sifting through myths and legends, trying to figure out where to start. “Okay. Speed? Strength? Is that real, or just a fairy tale?”

“That’s all real.” Jungkook said without hesitation. “I’ve actually been faking straining when I pick up heavy things for you. It doesn’t feel like anything.” He shrugged, as if admitting to a harmless prank.

“Really? Show me!” Excitement bubbled up in your chest, making you bounce slightly on your heels.

Jungkook grinned, standing from the bed with a casual ease. He turned, scanning your apartment, his sharp gaze flicking over every object. His eyes landed on your massive wooden dresser. The one that had nearly killed you when you first moved in, requiring the help of two friends and a ridiculous amount of cursing just to get it through the door.

Without hesitation, Jungkook strode toward it. He crouched slightly, slipping both hands beneath the base, but there was no visible effort. No tensed muscles, no grunt of exertion; just an easy, almost lazy movement as he lifted it clean off the floor. The dresser, heavy enough to crush a human, might as well have been a stack of pillows in his grip.

“See?” He turned his head toward you, lifting it up and down a few times as if he were curling a dumbbell at the gym. He even tossed it lightly into the air, barely an inch, just enough to make your stomach lurch with the thought of it crashing down, before catching it again.

Your mouth fell open.

"Holy shit.”

Jungkook grinned and set the dresser back in place with an almost exaggerated gentleness, as if it were made of glass. His hands lingered on it for a moment before he turned back to you, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“This is so cool! I never have to lift anything ever again.” You said, your mind still struggling to process what you had just seen. “I’ll just have you do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He was suddenly in front of you, closing the space in an instant, his presence comforting despite what you thought vampires were supposed to be. “Am I your pack mule now?”

“Only for the really heavy stuff.” You teased, tilting your head up at him.

Jungkook chuckled, his fangs barely flashing as his smile grew. Then his hands came up, cupping your face with a gentleness that contradicted the sheer, terrifying strength you had just witnessed. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, grounding you in the moment.

“Ask me more.” He said, his voice softer now. “Please. I want to answer all of your questions. No matter how long it takes.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

“This is just so insane. You really are… a vampire.” The words left your lips like an exhale, the weight of them heavy in the air.

Jungkook just smiled, his hands never leaving your face. “Yeah,” He murmured. “and you’re not scared.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an observation, one that made something deep inside you shift.

Because he was right. You weren’t scared. You were fascinated.

“For how long?” You asked, studying him carefully. “Are you actually twenty-seven?”

Jungkook’s lips pressed together for a moment. Then he shook his head, his eyes briefly flicking away before he forced himself to meet your gaze again. “I’m… much older.”

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes. “How much older?”

“Five hundred and twenty-three.”

Silence.

Your mouth parted slightly, your mind struggling to wrap itself around the number. Five hundred. And twenty-three. Your eyes widened as the realization fully sank in, and before you could stop yourself, a small, disbelieving laugh bubbled out of you. You clapped your hands over your mouth.

“Oh my god.” Another breathy laugh. “You’re so old!”

Jungkook’s expression immediately twisted into one of betrayal, his brows knitting together. “Hey!”

You dropped your hands, grinning at his wounded look. “Cradle robber.”

“Stop.”

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize I was dating a man with both feet literally in the grave!”

“Y/N!” Jungkook groaned, his head dropping forward in exaggerated defeat. He pouted, lips forming the perfect shape of a complaint. You giggled, the sound light and unbothered, before reaching up to pull his face closer. You pressed small, playful kisses along his jaw, his cheekbones, the tip of his nose. Each one chasing away the wounded puppy look on his face. Replaced with a crooked smile.

“I just needed to get it out! I promise it’s fine!” You laugh some more to Jungkook's dismay, but you settle for a moment and another thought creeps in. “Is that strange? You’ve seen the world change so many times.” You rub your hands up and down his arms in a soothing motion.

Jungkook’s hands found your waist, his thumbs brushing absentmindedly along your sides. “It’s funny… it’s just normal now.” His voice softened, more thoughtful. “I think I’ve liked this century the best so far. I miss certain things about the past, but I also don’t.” His dark eyes searched yours, as if debating whether to say more. “It’s exciting to see what will become of humans.”

A strange, quiet feeling settled over you. You couldn’t even begin to imagine it. Seeing wars begin and end. Cities rise and fall. Watching humanity evolve and adapt, century after century, while you remained unchanged.

You swallowed. “Are you the only one?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “No.”

You leaned in a little, your fingers tightening slightly on his arms. “How many are there?”

“In the world?” He tilted his head, considering the scope of your question.

“Sure.” You shrugged, though that wasn’t exactly what you meant.

He exhaled, brows furrowing as he thought. “Uhhh, maybe a few thousand? Not an exact number, but there are more than you’d think.”

“Huh. Anyone we know?” You narrow your eyes, already suspecting the answer. There’s no way Jungkook is the only one in your friend group.

He hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Yes.”

“Who?” You demand, your voice rising slightly.

“Jimin… and Jin… and Hobi.” Jungkook starts, then hesitates again, as if debating whether to continue.

“I knew it!” You leap to your feet, nearly toppling over in your excitement. Jungkook reaches out to steady you, his hands firm on your arms as you wobble on the uneven mattress. “The first time I met Jin, I was like, ‘If there’s anyone in this world who’s a vampire, it’s that guy!’”

Jungkook chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I think he told me about that.”

Your enthusiasm falters for a moment. “Wait, told you? I don’t think I told anyone that.”

“Yeah… He read your thoughts.”

“What!” You exclaim, your voice jumping an octave.

“Yeah… we can read thoughts.” Jungkook admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Oh my god.” You collapse back onto the bed, your hands covering your face. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why?” Jungkook leans over you, his face hovering above yours, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

You sit up on your elbows, glaring at him. “I’ve… not exactly had the purest thoughts about you… in the presence of our friends…” Jungkook lets his head drop with a laugh, his shoulders shaking. You groan and push him away with your foot against his chest. “This is mortifying! If any of them read my thoughts, they know what a freak I am!”

“I don’t think they need to read your thoughts to know that.” Jungkook teases, dodging your half-hearted kick.

“Jungkook!” You shout, grabbing a pillow from on your bed, throwing it at him.

“What!” He laughs, catching the pillow effortlessly. Then let it fall to the floor.

“This is the worst part about all of this!” You wail, flopping back onto the bed. Your melodrama filling the room but it seems to not phase Jungkook whatsoever.

“No one cares!” He reassures you, sitting down beside you.

“I do!” You insist, covering your face again.

“If anyone would care, it might be Monique.” Jungkook adds casually, as if he wasn’t dropping another bombshell.

“What?” You bolt upright again, your eyes wide.

“Yeah… uhh, that was the other thing. Monique is a vampire too.”

“What?”

“Oh and your friend Rehna… also a vampire. Young but she’s one too.”

“I think this may literally be too much information.” You mutter, staring aimlessly up at your ceiling. Your voice quieter now. “So has everyone just been laughing at me for not knowing?”

“Not at all.” Jungkook says quickly, his tone soft. He lays down next to you and reaches an arm over you, pulling you into him. “They all love you. It’s just in our nature to hide what we are. It doesn’t always go well when humans find out.”

“Am I going to get in trouble for knowing?” You ask, turning your head to face him. A sudden worry creeping into your voice.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowns.

“Well, okay, not to reference movie vampires, but typically there are rules for telling humans. You either have to turn me, or kill me, or something. I don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked. Then, to your surprise, he laughed—a soft, rich sound that made the knot in your chest loosen just a little. He shook his head, “No. There are no rules or laws for what we do or who we tell. We have traditions, but no laws.”

“Okay, so I’m not going to get hunted down by, like, a vampire government now?” you ask, only half-joking.

“No. Maybe by other vampires, but that’s for food. You probably stink like me anyways, so no one will touch you.” Jungkook said it so casual as if he didn’t need to explain what that meant.

“I stink?” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, glaring at him.

“It’s more like a scent.” Jungkook explains, his voice softening. “Vampires have their own, and humans have their own.”

“Do I smell bad?” You ask, suddenly self-conscious.

“Not at all.” Jungkook says, his voice dropping to a low. “To me, you smell amazing.” He wiggles his eyebrows up and down and you shove his shoulder away from you in annoyance.

“Is that because I’m food? Technically?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes and no.” He admits. Rolling back your direction. “I’m in love with you, so I always want to be around you and near you. You also have the same blood type I did when I was human, so that draws me to you.”

“Well, at least I don’t smell bad.” You mutter, crossing your arms.

“Well, Hobi thinks you smell bad.” Jungkook adds with a grin. “You have his least favorite blood type.”

“Oh, well, that’s just great.” You reply dryly.

“It’s not a bad thing.” Jungkook reassures you. “It just means he’s less likely to snack on you.”

“Okay, wait.” You say, holding up a hand. “So you can smell blood, read minds, and have super strength and speed. Do you guys have other powers?”

“That’s where the differences start to come in.” Jungkook explains. “Every vampire has different skills beyond those. Some develop early, some with age and time, and some with practice.”

“What’s yours?” You ask, intrigued. He had to have something and you knew it had to be good.

“Mine is… sort of similar to a siren.” He says, his voice taking on a mysterious edge.

“Are sirens real too?” You press, leaning a bit too close, “Not the point, continue.”

“I have to sing for it to work.” Jungkook hesitates for a moment but then explains. “It sort of casts a spell on the person I’m targeting. It’s mostly for luring in easy prey, but I can use it for other reasons too—alter memories, issue commands, or access knowledge about the person and their body. The person never remembers they’ve been affected by it afterward.”

You pause, a thought occurring to you. “Have you ever used it on me?”

Jungkook nods, his expression turning serious and he chewed on his lips for a moment.. “...Just once. It was on that trip we took months ago. I had to bring food for myself, and it was more than usual. More than would be easy to hide or explain. So I… used it to alter your memory of the food. Instead of blood bags, you remember regular food.”

You paused realizing the weight of what he was just telling you. Although a small occurrence, he had to alter a part of your memories. You think back on it and try to see if maybe you did remember anything different, the only other thing you really remember from that trip is Jungkook getting extreme food poisoning.

“I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.” Jungkook continues, his voice tinged with guilt. “I wanted to stay… us a little longer because I was so afraid of how it would change things. I got so sick the night I did it because I felt so guilty. I promised when we started dating I would never use any of my powers on you…”

“How come?” You ask softly.

“Because… I knew whatever this was, it was… I don’t know. What we have is good… and is like one of the only good things I’ve found in a long time.” He says, his eyes locking onto yours. “I wanted it all to be real—no powers, no manipulation. Just me… and just you. No tricks.”

You both sit in silence looking at each other, before you completely breeze by his small moment of vulnerability. “You said you had food poisoning.” You recall, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It felt like it at the time.” Jungkook nods, thinking back on it. He really did get sick to his stomach. The guilt ade bringing all that blood almost a complete waste. “I felt so guilty because I never want to hide things from you. Ever.”

“I’m sorry you had to do that.” You say, reaching out to take his hand.

“No, you don’t need to apologize.” He squeezes your hand gently. “I just wish I’d told you sooner. If I’d known it would go this well, I probably would have told you in the first month.”

“I might have been scared in the first month.” You admit with a small laugh. “Might have run away out of self preservation.”

“That’s why I waited.” He says, smiling softly. “But then I kept waiting and waiting for the right moment and I got more anxious.”

“Well… now I know.” You say, laying on your side next to him again. Your faces so close together,

“Now you know.” He echoes, wrapping an arm around you.

“How do you eat? What do you eat? Human? Animal?” You ask after a moment, your curiosity resurfacing.

“Human blood and animal blood. Animal blood more often.” He explains. “Lots of vampires work at blood banks.”

“Wow, shocker.” you say dryly. “Vampires working with blood? Insane.”

“I know, news of the millennia.” Jungkook replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm as you both burst into laughter.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Present Day

That felt like an entire lifetime ago now.

Since then, you’d learned practically everything there was to know about vampires—the myths, the truths, the strange little quirks no one ever talked about. The things that were never written in books, never whispered in horror stories. Jungkook had been an open book from the moment he told you. Just the truth, plain and simple, dropped into conversation like he was telling you his favorite color.

At first, it had been surreal. The idea that vampires weren’t just creatures of fiction but real, living. Well, undead, beings who walked among humans undetected. That the man you had been falling in love with had walked through centuries, watched history unfold firsthand. It made your head spin. But never scary. Jungkook was still Jungkook. He still left wet towels on the bathroom floor. He still made the world’s worst coffee. He still held your hand in crowded places and kissed your forehead when you were too tired to function.

The only big difference in your relationship was that you couldn’t really eat together. For obvious reasons.

Also the sun thing, not a huge problem like people think. They can be in the sun but if they don’t eat the same day they will die. They can be out longer the older they get. They don’t immediately disengage though.

You had barely scratched the surface even after all this time.

After too long in the cold, the two of you finally reached your apartment. The moment you stepped onto your floor, you spotted something taped to the front door. Your name and Jungkook’s were written in elegant, swirling calligraphy, the gold ink shimmering under the hallway light.

“Already that time of year.” You plucked the envelope from the door, holding it up as Jungkook unlocked it.

He barely glanced at it before sighing. “We should ditch.”

You snorted. “Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over great. Centuries of tradition thrown out the window.”

“We could start our own tradition.” He offered, wiggling his eyebrows as he pushed the door open.

You shook your head, already slipping inside. “And when Jimin hunts us down and drags us there himself, then what?”

Jungkook grumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, We run faster. More like he’ll run faster.

You ignored him, already peeling the envelope open. The paper was thick and luxurious—the kind that felt expensive—and it smelled faintly of pine, because of course Jimin thought of every last detail. The invitation itself was beautiful, decorated with intricate gold and green accents, the lettering impossibly flawless. Jimin never just sent invitations. He crafted them, turning them into little works of art.

Jimin’s Annual New Vampire Soirée.

The famed New Years party.

You shrugged off your jacket, letting the day slip away with it, and—without needing to ask—Jungkook took it from you, hanging it neatly in the small coat closet by the door.

“I’ve attended just about every single one of these things.” He groaned, toeing off his shoes and trailing behind you. “I think he can live without us for one year.”

By every single one, he meant a few hundred.

“Oh, come on.” You teased, skimming the details. “It’s the only time we get to really dress up. I like you in a suit.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow. “That’s your main selling point?”

“Duh.” You smirk, it also gives you an excuse to wear something nice which is rare these days. “Because then I get to take it off after. Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”

Jungkook sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. But if Jimin ropes me into another game of charades, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Deal.”

You both round your way to the kitchen. Your place together was very nice, mostly funded by Jungkook. You had two bedrooms that stretched up a hallway, one for the two of you and one for a small office the two of you curated. A large and beautiful kitchen that is really only used by you. In a high building with beautiful views.

You pull out a stool at the island. Jungkook pulling out a few bags of blood. They were donation bags like you would see at a blood drive. Which means he had elected to have human blood tonight vs animal. Jungkook didn’t really mind eating in front of you anymore. The first few weeks you two lived together you couldn’t stomach it, but now it was normal.

You’d asked him before what it was like. Vampires could still eat real food but it doesn’t fill them up or provide the same benefits it does for humans. They need blood or they won’t survive. It’s food, like anything you eat. They have cravings for it and some taste better than others. Sometimes they needed it more often and sometimes they could go without it. Jungkook had recently been trying to go longer and longer without it but it had been proving difficult. He could usually feed once a week and be okay, but he’s been trying to push for two weeks.

Who would have thought that having a human partner would make that difficult?

Jungkook opened one of the pouches and he just sucked on the dispensing tube like it was a fruit pouch of some kind. The way he reacted made him act like it was delicious, you were always curious but knew it would not have the same effect for you. Would probably be gross or your body would naturally make you throw it up. Still, your curiosity always lingered.

Jungkook noticed you staring at him out of the corner of his vision as he was looking at his phone and eating his meal. “You’re next, be patient.” He teased.

“That’s not!… that’s not why I was staring at you. Can’t I just look at my boyfriend?” You cross your arms, putting up your fake defenses.

“Always. You just look like you want to ask me something.” He turns his focus to you, still drink from the pouch.

You pause for a moment, “What was it like the first time…?”

“Eating?”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever asked.” You lean on your elbows on the counter.

It’s been quite some time but Jungkook does remember it. “It was warm… but sweet. Like candy but if the sugar high hit instantly. It was like I was taking my first breath.”

“Was it weird?”

“No… Strangely. It felt completely normal. Weird as it sounds. It was like my mind had completely rewired itself away from regular food. Blood was all I needed.” Jungkook shrugged, it really was night and day. One day he wanted human food and the next he couldn’t care less about it.

“You weren’t afraid of it?”

Jungkook nodded, “Of course… but unfortunately because of our nature you have to move past it quickly… You had to kill to eat. We didn’t have the convenience of having blood banks so we didn’t have to kill.”

“I didn’t think about that… no preservation.”

Jungkook eyed you for a moment. “What? Thinking about trying it?” He waved the pouch in your direction, the blood sloshing around in the bag making your stomach turn.

“Well most of the time you make it look good, so my mind wanders. I know it’ll be shit for me.” You rest your chin on one of your palms. Jungkook finished off one of the pouches. Teeth stained red and his pupils were no longer dilated like before. Which was the usual once his hunger had been satisfied.

Jungkook smiles, swiping his bottom lip to catch a drop of blood. He starts on the second one, drinking this one much faster than the first. You can tell he doesn’t like it very much from the face he makes. He rounds his way around the counter, to you. Behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he drank. One of his arms snaking around you. Your back pressed into his chest.

Although the packs were cold, Jungkook’s body heats up just a little bit when eating. Making him almost feel human.

“Bad?” You ask as he sets down the second pack on the counter. His tongue poked out his cheeks as he wiped his teeth clean of the bitter taste.

“Just bitter. Not great.” Jungkook’s sighs wrapping his other arm around you now. His nose is buried into your neck now.

“You know where I know there will be really good blood?” You muse and Jungkook just rolls his eyes. “Jimin’s party.”

“I’d still rather spend my time with you.” He places a kiss right on your jaw where your neck meets. “Alone.”

“Hmm maybe next time.” You rest the side of your head against his. You both rocked from side to side slightly. “Plus you get to have me all the time.”

“I know I know.” He places another kiss further down your neck. His grip is tightening around you.

Jungkook was barely listening though, your steady heartbeat was pounding in his ear. Yes he had quenched his thirst quite a bit but he still needed yours. The fact that you had his same blood type made it incredibly difficult to resist on days when he was especially hungry because your blood is all he would want. If only he could feed off of you whenever he wanted and it wouldn't kill you quickly. Still, he could hear the pulsing vein in your neck calling out for him. He was usually pretty good about blocking out this kind of thing around you but tonight was especially difficult.

“Just do it.” You whisper, you can feel him getting anxious and a little twitchy. You knew he wanted to eat. “Go ahead.”

Jungkook shakes his head, “Not yet.”

“Jungkook, you and I both know you haven’t eaten enough.” You pull out of his grip and twist around in your seat to look at him. “Free meal might as well be written on my forehead.”

“Better not be. I’m the only one allowed to eat from you.” He smiled, both of his hands running up and down your thighs now.

Before you could get a word in, his lips were on yours. One of his hands coming up to cup your jaw. The kiss has a certain intensity to it and you match Jungkook’s energy in kind. His tongue sliding into your mouth and your taste buds being met with a iron like flavor. A little off putting at first but you push past it. It wasn’t the first time you had tasted the aftermath of a feeding before.

When you were first dating Jungkook would wash his mouth out pretty good before he would see you so that it wouldn’t happen. Not exactly easy to explain why he tastes like his mouth was bleeding when making out.

Your hands found their way to the bottom of his shirt and your hands glided up his abdomen. Warm hands meeting cold skin. Your legs widen to let him stand between them. You were leaning back against the counter, the corner digging into your back some but you didn’t mind. Jungkook’s hand on your jaw moves it’s way to the back of your neck and into your hair. He gives it a light tug which elicits a small sound from you. A small whine which is exactly what he wanted

You break away from him for a second, breathless. “Jungkook… You have to eat.”

Jungkook kisses you again, a little sloppier this time. Before pulling back, “Not yet my love.” He mumbles against your skin kissing his way down your throat, his other hand tracing the inside of your thigh.

You sigh in content leaning into him, “Y-You get a little intense when you’re like this though.”

Jungkook pulls back away from you, kissing you again. Soft and sweet. Before breaking away. “I’m alright. I just missed you so I want to have my way with you now.”

“Oh is that right?” You tilt your head to the side, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips, “You know you see me everyday?”

“It’s not enough.” Jungkook whispers, and kisses you again.

You bring your hands up to either side of his cheeks and drink him in. “You’re cheesy.” You mumble against his lips.

Jungkook brings both of his hands down and tucks them underneath you to lift you from the stool. The sudden motion makes you yelp. “You love it.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You say nonchalantly like you were trying to play it off. Jungkook just rolls his eyes, keeping a tight grip on you.

Before you could think, your body was pressed into Jungkook's. As the kitchen and hall blurred past your vision as if you were in a car. Jungkook ran the both of you into your bedroom. Your hair instantaneously a mess around your face.

“Jungkook!” You whined, he let you fall from his grip onto the bed. You immediately smoothed your hair away from your face. “I hate when you do that.”

Jungkook is standing at the end of your bed, pulling his shirt over the top of his head. “I have a few ways I can make it up to you.”

“I hope so.” You bite down on your bottom lip but a huge smile still on your face. Jungkook couldn’t help but find you absolutely intoxicating.

Jungkook kneels in front of the bed, “God you’re beautiful.”

His hands climbed their way up your thighs and under your shirt to help lift it over your head in a swift motion. Discarding it to the floor. Your hands come down to unbutton your pants and Jungook slides them off of your legs. Jungkook with ease, pulling your hips to the end of the bed. Although to Jungkook it felt like nothing. Anytime he moved you you could tell the strength he held. It was clear that he was intentionally holding back.

Jungkook’s face came down between your legs, kissing his way up your left thigh. You watch him for a moment, you could see his eyes dilate for a second and a hint of his fangs grow from his mouth. In that instant one of his fangs punctured the skin of your thigh.

You gasp in surprise. A little blood escaped before Jungkook licks over the wound, closing it again. Jungkook's eyes closed and his breath raged. Your blood is like ecstasy on his tongue.

“Honey, a little warning next time.” You pout.

“Sorry baby.” He looks up to you with this puppy dog expression. “I just needed a taste.”

“Okay, it just hurts. Easier on the neck. I’m used to it.” You bring your hand down to rub his cheek. He turns his face to kiss your palm.

“So you’re saying I need to bite you more places more often.” He smirks and you just hum.

“Sounds good to me.” You giggle and Jungkook's face softens. A look more of adoration.

“Whatever you want, pretty.” His head dips back down between your legs. You lay back on the bed. Jungkook hooking your underwear in between his teeth and pulling it down your legs.

He presses a feather light kiss to your clit before kissing all the way up your stomach, then chest, and then kissing you on the mouth. Sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. Jungkook's fingers were wasting no time before he was rubbing your clit with one of his hands. Slow and tantalizing circles. You bit down on Jungkook’s lip pulling it back before letting him fall back into place.

“I’m supposed to do that.” Jungkook fake whined, his fingers tracing the outside of your entrance which was dripping. Waiting for him to touch you.

“Whoops.” You bring your arm to rest above your head. “Instructions unclear.”

He kisses you again, before pulling away to kiss and then suck on your neck. Not feeding, just sucking to give you a regular old hickey. Taking two of his fingers to and sliding them deep into your dripping pussy. Reaching and curling his fingers to touch that spongy spot inside you that can easily make you cum.

“Fuck just like that.” You moan, your eyes screwing shut. Your knees coming up in reaction to the pleasure. Jungkook moved to a different spot on your neck and left another barely visible mark. He had seen you cum and had you exactly like this hundreds of times now but he still could not get enough. He pulled away from you to look down at you again.

But sex was always a little complicated. Your blood moving and your heart pounding is almost deafening. Especially today he was still hungry and his mind still reeled with needing your blood. Spinning as he could hear the blood in your body pumping quickly with every quickened breath you took because of every touch he gave you. He hadn’t even realised, his fangs had reappeared in his mouth. He was beginning to drool.

You open your eyes again and you see it. He was dazed, eyes completely dilated again. “Jungkook.” You say, tracing in line down his face. “Come back here.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, shaking his head. His fangs returned back in his mouth. Eyes returning to normal. “Sorry baby.”

He pulls his fingers out and begins to rub your clit from side to side. You were getting close quickly, but you needed a little more.

“You didn’t eat enough.” You raise an eyebrow to him.

“I thought I did.” He rests his forehead against your, your breathing mingling with your lips so close together. “Not enough I guess.”

You give him a quick peck on the lips before pulling back slightly. “Just a little longer honey.” You moan. You both knew if he drank from you now, the night ends here because you will be too dizzy and too tired to continue.

“I’m fine, my love. You just focus on cumming on my fingers just how I like.” Jungkook leans up and away from you, connecting his mouth with one of your nipples. Licking around the bud, sucking and slowly pushing you closer to the edge.

“Jungkook.” You moan, and Jungkook dips his fingers back between your legs. Pumping them in and out of you relentlessly. Wanting to get you over the edge, and blocking anything else out.

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from you. His teeth chatter from hunger instinctually and he has to shake his head back to a normal state. He was so hard inside of his pants he could have cum just like this. “Oh you’re doing so good.”

“God I need you to fuck me.” You whine, grinding your hips into Jungkook’s hand. He follows along with your rhythm, and continues to fuck you with his fingers. It really was not enough for you.

“Oh yeah? How bad?”

“I’m serious please fuck me Jungkook.” You bring your hands up under his shoulders and around his back, digging your nails into him.

“Fuck.” He exhaled, “I really want to make you cum like this though.”

“Please baby, I need it. Please please please.” Between each please you kiss him. Jungkook chasing after your mouth after every kiss. Both of your hearts pounding in his ears, dancing together as one.

“Yes… Yes, whatever you want.” Jungkook, with some hesitation retreats from you. His hand pulls out of you and you let out a small moan but know it’ll be replaced soon. Jungkook stands and begins to discard his pants and then his boxers with little time.

You stand up and kiss him again, before spinning the both of you around and sitting him on the bed. He was fully erected and you honestly needed to fuck him badly. You wanted him to fill up every inch of you. Your eagerness surprises him a little as you rest your hands on each of his shoulders. Adjusting your hips on either side of his.

Jungkook just watches you eyes wide. His red eyes were dilated almost to black. You waste no time lining up your entrance with his tip, sinking down onto it slowly. Letting him slowly fill you up. Jungkook takes in a sharp breath leaning back on his hands while you sink down onto him. The two of you had no need for protection, from what it sounded like from many accounts. Jungkook couldn’t get you pregnant no matter how hard you tried.

Jungkook's eyes close tight, and his grip on the blanket next to him was evident. One of his hands comes to grip on your hip forcing you to bottom out on him. His grip was too tight, “Ease up.” You place your hand on top of his like you need to pull him back to earth.

“Sorry.” He moans, his head falling to the side. His dick tucked perfectly inside you and his head twitching slightly almost driving you insane. “God you feel so good, fuck.”

You hum, and lift your hips on top of him. A moan falling past your lips, “Oh yes.”

You create a slow rhythm between the two of you. Your hips rising slowly up and down on his cock. His dick rubbing up against that same spot inside you and your high building all over again. Jungkook is now able to get some relief. He was still having a hard time though. He was still just focussing on your neck.

You could see it all over his face, his fangs were slowly peeking out again. His mouth was slack and eyes all fucked out. He was hungry and you were mostly just teasing him at this point. A small punishment for not eating enough.

“Oh are you hungry?” You lift yourself up and sit yourself back down onto him again.

Jungkook let’s out a gasp as he nods, “Yes.”

“Hmm,” You sit up, Jungkook's dick dragging inside you tantalizing. “You lied to me. Said you were fine, but look at you.”

“I’m sorry baby. I… I just… please.” He begs, a cross between desire and ferality written on his face. You sit your hips back down onto him, a moan falling from the both of you. You needed to toe this line carefully, but it was always a little fun when you got too.

You loved seeing Jungkook getting so desperate for you, in more ways than one. He did it to you all the time and so you reveled in the time you got to do it to him.

You continue to tease, you tone playful, “I don’t think you deserve my blood now.”

“Oh god please no.” Jungkook’s hands come up to either side of your face, desperation in his voice. Trying to pull you closer but enough slack given so you can hold yourself away. “Beautiful that’s not funny, don’t play with me right now.”

“No. You said you were fine and you’re about to lose it.. All over my blood.” You lift your hips up and sit back down onto him again. “Shame.”

“Please let me drink from you. Please just a little bit.” Jungkook's voice became slightly hoarse and he was fidgeting under you in desperation. Making his dick move inside and you had to do your best to not just cum all over him right now.

You place your hands on top of his that are rested on either side of your face. Pulling them away. “Ask nicely.”

“Please. Oh my love please let me taste you.” He conceded, he was totally out of it. You had gotten what you wanted and it was so hot.

His eyes sparkling under the light that only creeps in through the window of your room. You don’t move anymore. You kiss both of his hands before letting them go. You tilt your head to the left side to present your neck. Jungkook, although starving, takes gentle care of you. One hand coming back to hold your opposite cheek, the other around your back. Keeping you in place. You close your eyes waiting for him to make his move.

Jungkook’s fangs were fully exposed, his senses were completely filled with you. He licks a line over the spot where he is going to puncture before he sinks both of his teeth into your neck. Straight into the vein. The pain is cold and needle-like before it is gone but the side of your face and neck feels completely numb. Then Jungkook starts to drink, you can feel your heart begin to quicken. As the blood seeps out from you through the new holes in your neck. Jungkook drinks slowly to make sure he can tell how much he is taking.

You remember the first time it happened, it hurt a lot. You felt like you could feel life draining out of you. Now it no longer hurts and has become more of an intimate act for the two of you. Jungkook was always endlessly careful about how much he took. Never more than a blood bag's worth. It was difficult because of how good you tasted, you weren’t only the love of his life but the best meal he had in his time of being a vampire.

Jungkook’s grip on your head was tight so you couldn't easily slip away, but after a moment, Jungkook loosened his grip and you could tell he was done. You had kept your eyes closed. Usually you got pretty dizzy during this so you always closed your eyes. Jungkook with some force pulled himself away from you. His face came into view. His mouth was covered in your blood and it was dripping down his chin, teeth also stained red once again. His fangs detract back into his mouth. He was out of breath.

Your eyes were tired, as you leaned forward on his shoulder. “Fuck me. That never gets old.” Jungkook sigh. Jungkook leans back in to lick over the spot to close the wounds. A stray drop of blood had made its way down your neck and collarbone. Jungkook wasted no time in licking it’s trail back up your neck. Cleaning it away for you.

You kiss his forehead because it didn’t really do it for you to taste your own blood. “It can’t be that good.”

“Oh trust me, it is.” Jungkook shifts his hips under you, his dick nudges slightly inside you. You gasp and Jungkook is finally actually able to enjoy your pleasure instead of hearing your blood pound in your ears.

You lift our hips up and down on top of him again, his cock bottoming out inside your again and you both moan. Before you can continue though, Jungkook lifts you off of him and flips the two of you back over so you’re on your back. He does this to your surprise.

“Now I can fuck you like I want.” Jungkook leans away from you and strokes his cock a few times before pressing it to your entrance. Swirling it around. You widen you legs so that he can have better access, you needed him to fuck you bad. Before you got to tired to do so.

Jungkook guides his dick inside of you again.

“Yes!” You groan, wrapping your arms around his neck, as Jungkook picks up his speed and he rocks his hips into your. The slapping of your skin echoing in the room.

“That’s right baby. Cream my cock.” Jungkook groans as he continues to rock into you. The dizziness was hitting you but you didn’t care, you could feel your climax coming.

“Fuck I’m so close Jungkook.” You groan, grinding your hips into his each time he makes contact with yours. Jungkook was kissing all around your neck, encouraging your high. He wanted you to cum so bad, getting to eat from you and then make you cum. He couldn’t think of anything better.

Jungkook's body had become warm again, eating straight from you had that effect. You loved it when it happened, made you wonder if he was this warm when he was human too.

“Cum for me baby, please please cum all over me.” Jungkook begged into your ear. Jungkook thrusted a few more times, his tip dragging against your g spot and you were cumming undone. Walls squeezing his cock as your cum began to cover him.

Your walls squeezing around him as he fucked himself into you. “Oh fuck yes. God you feel so good.”

With a few more pumps Jungkook was coming undone and cumming inside you. His cum filling up your cunt as he continued to fuck into you. Your cum and his mixing together. Jungkook thrust a few more times before coming to a stop. He slid himself out of you and his cum spilling out of your throbbing pussy. He wanted to kiss you but he had your dried blood all around his mouth.

You were pretty dizzy, having an orgasm in the midst of losing a pint of blood wasn’t a super easy combination. Jungkook slid into your bathroom, closing the door so he could flick the light on. You covered your face with with your arms anyways, not sure if you would really be able to sit up without difficulty. After a moment Jungkook returned, he had gotten a new pair of boxers and his face was all cleaned up now. With a blink of the eye he had zipped out of the room and then zipped back in, you could feel the air shift with the speed he was going.

He removed one of your arms from your face. A smile on his face as you open your eyes to look at him.

“Come on let’s get you cleaned up.” He kissed you, his skin was cold again. Taking one of your hands and helping you sit up. What you hadn’t noticed is he brought back with him some juice, and another towel that was warm to clean you up. What you didn’t really notice was how you were also covered in your own dried blood. Jungkook may have taken a bit too much since he was a little sloppy with it.

“I’m really dizzy.” Which was mild but was almost headache inducing.

Jungkook nods, grabbing the juice he has placed on the ground next to him. “I know. I got you this and you need to drink it.”

He places the cup in your hand. You drink it all down pretty quickly, you probably should have also eaten something when you got home. Would have made this a little easier but whatever. Wasn’t your first rodeo but Jungkook worried every single time. He helped you clean up after you are comfortable moving.

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Your next day at work was alright but you were, in fact, exhausted.

You were filing books away, running on two coffees, but you still felt like you were going to need another. You worked as a librarian with one of the largest Libraries in the city that had some of the oldest works, so this was your typical day in and out. You had spent a good part of your morning also restoring old books. Now you were doing some mundane tasks that needed to be finished. Luckily you would be leaving soon and early.

Your friend, Rehna, who was also your colleague, had rounded her way around the corner in your aisle to find you. She had roped you into an afternoon of shopping to find a new outfit for Jimin’s party. It was only two days away, the invite was fresh but Jimin had confirmed with you months ago that you and Jungkook would be in attendance. Much to Jungkook’s complaints.

Rehna is also a vampire.

She was the youngest of the group. She was only turned 8 years ago. She’s technically 30 but she was 23 when she turned. She’s told you her story before, she was turned on accident. She was attacked by a vampire, she ended up biting him back and she swallowed enough blood to make her turn. Apparently it didn’t take much. You actually met her before you met any of the others. She was a vampire then but she was running around on her own. She only knew of Jungkook and the others through Jimin’s parties but never hung out with them until you and Jungkook started seeing each other.

“Please tell me you’re almost done. I’m bored and I’m ready to find something perfect.”

“I would have thought you found something already.” You say, the theme was Bejeweled. Which was incredibly vague but you think you had the idea. “Honestly anything shimmery or shiny will probably work.”

“Yeah but you know these parties are basically red carpet events.”

“You just want to win the outfit contest this year.” She had entered and had yet to win the competition for the last few years you were in attendance.

Her smirk turned wicked. "Damn right I do. This is my year." She lifted a finger in a dramatic flourish. "Now hurry up."

Before you could argue, the stack of books you were holding suddenly lifted out of your arms and flew onto the shelves, slotting themselves into place with eerie precision.

"Rehna." You groaned.

She grinned, brushing imaginary dust off her hands. "Oh, look at that, you’re done! Time to go!"

"Damn vampire powers." You muttered, crossing your arms.

You were annoyingly jealous that she could move things with her mind. Would make your life much easier as it certainly makes hers. She usually wouldn’t use it so openly but she really wanted to get out of here.

“I have a feeling you won’t have to complain about them for too much longer.” Rehna jokes but realizes her mouth was getting ahead of her mind.

“What?” You say, luckily you were a bit distracted and didn’t hear what she said.

You blinked, but before you could question her, she quickly threw an arm around your shoulders, steering you toward the employee room. "So, how’s Jungkook? Still annoying?"

You roll your eyes, “Jungkook is fine.”

“He doesn’t come around here as much as he used too.” She sighs. She was actually glad.

“He’s been busy lately, there’s always some new business with Jin these days. Today Jimin has roped him into something for the party.” You both enter the employee room and you both begin to gather your things.

“Oh how exciting. To be honest I’m fine with him not coming around. He always leaves his stink all around here.” She shivers at the thought, Jungkook and Rehna weren’t enemies by any means. If anything they were basically like siblings at this point but if he was the annoying brother she only cared to see at family gatherings.

“He can’t smell that bad.” You throw your bag over your shoulder.

“Believe me. He does.” She groans, it was a vampire thing. From how Jimin has described it to you it’s not very strong, it’s just subtle but some vampires don’t like others smell. Rehna really did not care for Jungkook’s scent.

“Anyways, I’m assuming Jimin will have him roped into party prep all day. Makes it easy since it’s just at Jin’s manor and not like in a cave on the side of a mountain or something.” You explain, which is exactly what he had done last year.

“Ugh but the best parties are always the ones he throws in some random obscure place.” She pouted.

“I almost lost my toes because of the cold, and none of you produced any body heat so you were no help.” You moan, thinking about it. Most of the night was very fun but by the end of it you felt like your feet were going to fall off because the cold hurt them so badly. Evidently when vampires hold a party inside a mountain in the middle of winter, cold doesn’t factor into their plans.

As you grabbed your bag, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling you. But with Rehna, that wasn’t unusual.

And honestly? You were too tired to press her on it.

“Well it’ll still be grand no matter where it’s at. Jimin will make sure of that.”

Because this party—this event—was the biggest night of the year.

Not just for vampires. For everyone.

Jimin’s soirée was a spectacle, something out of a gothic dream. It was more than a party—it was a gathering of the undead, an annual tradition that had carried on for centuries. Carried on because of Jimin. A night of indulgence and excess, of laughter and celebration. Vampires from all over the region attended, their grudges and rivalries put aside in favor of revelry. A silent truce held for one evening, upheld by nothing more than ancient tradition and the promise of a damn good time.

The venue changed every year, always extravagant, always hidden in plain sight. An old mansion, a repurposed cathedral, a secret ballroom tucked beneath the city. Chandeliers dripped with candlelight, casting golden glows against dark velvet walls. Music floated through the air; classical waltzes and modern remixes alike, played by musicians who had honed their craft for centuries. The scent of aged wine and fresh blood filled every corner, mingling with the faint traces of perfume and cologne.

But the real attraction, the thing that drew vampires from all over, was the blood.

It was a feast unlike any other.

Vampires brought their finest. Aged blood, stored in crystal decanters like fine whiskey. Fresh blood, bottled and sealed, each one labeled with its origin. Rare types, unique flavors, collected over years. Some brought exotic blends, infused with herbs and spices, creating something akin to mulled wine but richer, more intoxicating.

And it wasn’t just about drinking. It was about history. Vampires exchanged stories, sharing memories of the humans they once knew, the lives they once lived. They brought gifts, rare artifacts, and trinkets from centuries past. Some fought for sport, showcasing inhuman strength with friendly duels that blurred the line between violence and performance art. Others danced, moving with a grace that defied physics, their bodies fluid and weightless.

It was decadent. It was breathtaking.

And you got to witness all of it.

Human’s being in attendance wasn’t unusual. The situation that you and Jungkook had was not unusual. There were other vampires that had human partners and they would bring them along as well. Not all of them stayed human, the first year you went just about every human there you had met was either turned or had broken up with their vampire counterpart by the time the next party rolled around.

Human’s who weren’t the partners of vampires weren’t permitted though, or those who weren’t deeply entangled in their world. There is one man who is a sixth generation banker who is invited to these parties because he is in charge of the finances of a handful of wealthy vampires. His name is Larry. Nice guy.

Your continuation in being a human, although you and Jungkook had seemed to be attached by the hip, had brewed a curiosity in everyone. Although it wasn’t frowned upon or strange, it did feel like it to everyone else. Especially amongst Jungkook’s own coven.

“Jungkook, to the left! How many times do I have to repeat myself?!”

Jimin’s voice rang through the grand ballroom, exasperation thick in his tone. The cavernous space was in chaos—drapes of deep sapphire, shimmering crystal fixtures, and layers upon layers of bejeweled decorations yet to be placed. At the center of it all, precariously balanced on a tall ladder, was Jungkook, attempting to hang a string of decorative jewels exactly where Jimin wanted.

Or, at least, close enough.

“I can’t go any more left!” Jungkook snapped, gripping the ladder with one hand and holding the jewels with the other. “If you want it so precise, why don’t you climb up here and do it yourself?”

“I’m busy!” Jimin shot back, crossing his arms as if he were personally burdened by the weight of this entire production. “I have a million things to oversee, and you’re up there messing around!”

Jungkook let out an aggravated sigh and simply hung the jewels where he stood, ignoring Jimin’s frantic gesturing.

Jimin flailed. “That is not where I told you to—”

“Too bad! I’m getting down.” Jungkook climbed down the ladder, dropping to the floor with ease. “If you care that much, do it yourself.”

Jimin threw his arms in the air. “I swear—”

“If you two are going to fight, at least take it to the living room.” Jin’s voice interrupted, smooth and composed as ever. He strolled into the ballroom with a book in one hand, scribbling notes with the other. “I don’t need you breaking another chandelier.”

“He’s ruining my vision.” Jimin huffed. Jungkook leaning against the ladder, annoyance all over his face.

Jin barely looked up. “Isn’t there an actual decorator running around here somewhere? I thought you hired someone?”

Jimin scoffed. “I did… But Jungkook’s here, so why not make him useful?”

Jin chuckled, thoroughly entertained, while Jungkook remained unimpressed. He had come here to talk to Jin about something else entirely, yet somehow, he had been roped into helping Jimin with decorations. The entire house was alive with movement—hired help rushing around, carefully placing extravagant decorations that now stretched through every corridor.

“I would’ve rather helped with literally anything else.” Jungkook muttered, stepping beside Jimin and bumping his shoulder.

Jimin huffed, shoving him back just slightly. “Well, too bad, because I needed you.”

Jin finally took a good look around the ballroom, his sharp eyes scanning the shimmering spectacle before him. It was hard to surprise Jin, but even he seemed impressed. “Damn, Jimin. You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”

Jungkook had to admit—the room was stunning. Sparkles in every corner, a perfect blend of opulence and elegance. Everything dripped with wealth, which, knowing Jimin, was always the plan. You were going to eat it up.

“Three hundred-plus of these gatherings, and you still manage to come up with new ideas.” Jungkook teased.

Jimin shot him a smug glance. “I’ve only gotten better at it over the years. Trust me, I’ve got plenty more party ideas left in me.”

Jungkook smirked. “Great. You can plan any party I ever throw.”

Jimin’s eyes lit up. “Promise?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Yes. Not that that’ll happen anytime soon.”

Jin, who had been silently observing, suddenly looked intrigued. “Oh? That sounded like a hint at something.”

Jungkook frowned slightly, glancing between the two of them. “A hint at what?”

“Oh, please.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “We’re all counting down the days until you and Y/N finally get hitched.”

Getting married to a vampire was a little different. A vampire marrying another vampire was more about declaring a companion. Some vampires do have the traditional ceremony but it wasn’t like the celebration that a human marriage was because vampires who wed other vampires is more of a casual affair. “Getting Married” was usually a term for vampires with human partners.

Jungkook choked on his own breath, “We aren’t getting married.”

“Why not, it’s been years. I figured it would have happened after you told her about us. You basically kiss the ground she walks on anyways.” Jimin smirks, trying to poke fun but a tone of seriousness was behind the remark.

“You’ve been together for five years now and you haven’t asked?” Jin asked, he couldn’t help himself. He too was curious when the two of you would be getting married.

“We haven’t talked about it.” Jungkook admitted, quietly. Almost looking like a kicked puppy or that he was going to get in trouble.

Jin and Jimin both pause for a moment, Jin raises a brow to Jungkook. “Seriously?”

Jungkook shakes his head. It actually never really came up, Jungkook was actually quite nervous to broach the topic. It was very serious and it’s not that he hadn’t thought about it, in fact he did. Just not in the way everyone thinks he would be thinking about it. He was more waiting for you to bring it up.

Jimin suddenly grabbed Jungkook by the ear, dragging him down to his level. “I cannot believe you haven’t talked about it. How could you not?”

“Ow—Jimin!” Jungkook swatted him away, freeing himself from his grip. He rubbed his ear with a glare. “I have thought about it, but it’s not that simple! We’ve talked about, like… regular marriage, but not about this.”

Jin tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “What’s the big deal? It’s completely normal. Happens all the time.”

Jungkook clenched his jaw. “Because I have no idea if that’s what she even wants.”

Jimin sighed dramatically before smacking Jungkook’s shoulder. “Seems like something you should talk about!”

Jungkook shot him a look, but Jimin just grinned. Ever since you had come into their lives, Jimin had immediately taken to you—he adored you. And whenever Jungkook did anything that seemed remotely questionable, Jimin was always the first to go to bat for you.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. The weight of their words settled uncomfortably in his chest. This wasn’t just a marriage proposal. This was forever. Asking you to marry him wasn’t just about rings and vows—it meant asking you to give up your humanity.

To turn. To be like him.

The thought alone sent a storm of memories crashing through Jungkook’s mind, memories laced with pain, fear, and the irreversible consequences of a choice that could never be undone. He had buried them deep, locked them away where they couldn’t touch him. But now, under the scrutiny of his closest friends, the weight of it all pressed down on his chest like a boulder.

“The time isn’t right.” He muttered, voice tight.

Jimin stopped mid-step, turned on his heel, and without a second thought, kicked Jungkook square in the ass.

Jungkook stumbled forward, catching himself before he could completely lose balance. His glare shot daggers. “Hey!”

Jimin didn’t even flinch. “You deserved that.”

“I’m with him on that one.” Jin chimed in, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Right time? What kind of answer is that? You love her. I don’t even need to invade your thoughts to know that.”

A sly grin spread across Jimin’s face. I am invading your thoughts, his voice echoed smugly in Jungkook’s head. “And I know that’s a bullshit answer.”

Jungkook tensed, jaw clenching as he focused for a split second and then shut Jimin out of his mind. The vampire in front of him blinked, looking mildly offended before pouting.

Jungkook’s voice came out flat. “Come on. Is it really that hard to guess why I’m hesitant?”

Jin and Jimin exchanged glances before answering in unison. “Yes.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

The air in the room shifted. He glanced around at the staff still buzzing through the ballroom, adjusting final decorations, moving chairs into perfect alignment. Not here. Not where curious ears might overhear things that didn’t concern them.

So instead, he let his thoughts slip past the surface and invaded theirs.

A beat of silence.

Jin and Jimin went still as the realization settled in, Jungkook’s memories bleeding into their awareness like ink spilled across a pristine surface. Their postures changed and Jin’s amusement faded into something serious, Jimin’s cocky demeanor softened.

Jungkook. Jin projected, his mind brushing against his friend’s like a whisper in the dark. There’s such a slim chance of that happening.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the polished floor beneath him. You can’t promise that. You remember how bad it got.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Jin’s face.

Jimin cut in, his mind pressing against theirs like a sharp rod. That was a special case. This is different.

Jungkook shook his head, tension crawling up his spine. None of us know that. It would be my blood this time. It could have the same effect… or worse.

Jimin stepped forward, placing both hands firmly on Jungkook’s shoulders, his touch grounding, his presence warm despite the centuries he had spent as something cold. His voice was softer now, even in Jungkook’s head. Alright… I feel bad for giving you a hard time. But, Jungkook, everything is fine now. This could be something beautiful.

Jungkook swallowed thickly, flexing his fingers, trying to shake out the unease tightening in his chest.

Every time he let himself think about turning you, the same anxiety gripped him like a vice.

Jungkook's mind brushed past there's one more time, Or it could all be for nothing.

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It had been a few days since that conversation.

Jungkook had done everything in his power to shove the topic out of his mind, burying it beneath the routine of everyday life. He convinced himself there was no need to bring it up, not until you did first. It had to be something you wanted, so he saw no need for him to have that conversation until you wanted too.

And Jungkook—true to his word—never invaded your thoughts. Never once slipped into your mind the way he so easily did with the others.

But right now? God, how he wished he could.

Because as he sat on the edge of the tub, watching you flit between the closet and bathroom, he had no idea what you thought about any of it.

It was New Year’s Eve.

The scent of your perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the faint traces of soap and fabric softener from your clothes. You were wearing nothing fancy yet, just sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Your hair half-done, your makeup barely started because you kept getting distracted. One minute you were digging through your jewelry, the next you were redoing your eyebrows, and now you were standing in front of the mirror, testing two different pairs of earrings.

Jungkook hadn’t even started putting himself together. He sat there, in slacks and a button-up with the top few buttons left open. But he wasn’t thinking about the party.

He was thinking about you.

And apparently, he was staring too hard because you turned toward him, arching a brow.

“What’s going on inside there?” You took a step closer and poked his forehead, snapping him from his daze.

Jungkook blinked, tilting his head up at you with an easy smile. “I’m thinking about you.”

Your face lit up, playful and teasing. “Oh yeah? What about me?” Turning back to the mirror to continue what you were doing.

Jungkook leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched you through the mirror. “How much I love you.”

Your expression twisted into disgust. “Gross.”

Jungkook snorted, shaking his head as he stood up and closed the space between you. “You’re gross.”

Before you could retort, he draped himself over you, resting his chin on your shoulder. Watching as you meticulously filled in your brows. You let out a small huff of concentration, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you tried to finally get them right.

Jungkook’s hands found your waist, wrapping around you with ease, pulling you flush against him.

“Jungkook.” You warned as you reached for your mascara. Unable to reach it as Jungkook pulls you a step back. You hand pathetically waving in the air for it. He started to sway you side to side, his grip tightening just enough to throw you off balance. “Jungkook.”

“We can be a little late.” He murmured against your neck, pressing a slow kiss to the spot where your shoulder met your neck.

You exhaled sharply. “No, no, no. You do this every time.” Laughing, you pried his arms off of you and spun around, poking him in the chest. “I don’t want to miss anything! I like these parties, you know.”

Jungkook just grinned, all mischievous and smug, before leaning down and stealing a quick kiss from your lips. “You always fall for it, though.”

You turned back to the mirror, rolling your eyes as you reached for your brush. “Yeah, like a sucker! Not this time.”

Jungkook stepped in close again, this time pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hands landed on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he watched you apply your mascara with careful precision.

“You’re just so cute.” He hummed, his voice a soft murmur against your ear. “I can’t help it.”

“How about you finish getting ready or something?” You quipped, flicking your gaze to him through the mirror. Waving your hand to shew him away.

You knew what he was trying to do. You also knew exactly what would happen if you gave in; your makeup smudged, your hair ruined, a twenty-minute delay at best. This year you were determined to get there at a reasonable time.

“Fine. We both know it’s going to take me like five seconds to get ready though.” Jungkook strolls away from you, you could hear some frantic shuffling in the closet, before Jungkook appears seconds later.

Dark green, nearly black, pinstripe three-piece suit hugged his frame perfectly, the crispness of his dress shirt stark against his inky tattoos. His hair somehow effortlessly tousled yet perfectly styled, made it seem as if he’d walked straight out of a magazine spread.

Jungkook threw his arms out with a smug grin. “See? All done.”

“Show off.” You pout, as you continue what you’re doing.

Jungkook just chuckled, sauntering over and perching himself back down on the edge of the tub, legs spread, shoulders relaxed—taunting. He didn’t say anything, but the amusement in his eyes told you everything. Suddenly his voice invades and echoing through your mind.

Am I distracting you yet?

You pointedly ignored him.

Though, you could still feel him watching you, and if you let yourself think about it too much, you knew you’d never finish getting ready. Because deep down, you knew he’d rather spend the night tangled up with you, alone, than go to this party at all.

After a little while, you finally finished your makeup and got dressed emerging in a similarly colored dark green silk gown that was beaded intricately with some beads that dangle off the gown like droplets. With some movement of the dress you sparkled under the light. An off the shoulder classic, very old hollywood.

As you stepped out, Jungkook’s head snapped up.

His gaze slowly dragged over you, taking in every detail, his lips parting slightly before he let out a low whistle.

You grinned, twirling slightly to show off the full effect.

Jungkook stood again and crossed the space between you in a few strides. He leaned back against the bathroom sink, looking you up and down with something just shy of awe.

“Hey you got something right here.”

You look at him confused, then back in the mirror, “What? Where?” You frantically look over your face.

He reached out, with his pointer finger and thumb, tilting your chin toward him. “Hmm… right here.”

Before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. You let out a soft laugh, narrowing your eyes at him. “Wow.”

Jungkook merely shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh—wait. One more.”

Before you could question him, he leaned in again, this time pressing an equally slow kiss to your other cheek.

“Had to get that one.” He murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “Or the whole outfit would’ve been ruined.”

“Oh I’m sure.” You nod, your eyes racking over him now. A familiar glow filling your whole chest. Jungkook took your hand in his. Pulling you out of the bathroom.

“Come on, sucker, we’ve got a party to go to.”

“Awe come on. You’re the one who said we could be late.” You tease with a small laugh falling off your lips.

The two of you wasted no more time leaving, knowing full well that if you lingered any longer, you wouldn’t be stepping foot outside the apartment for days.

Jin’s manor was a short drive out of the city, nestled beyond the reach of streetlights and skyscrapers, surrounded by acres of untouched wilderness. The grand estate stood like a relic of another time—imposing yet elegant, its dark stone exterior bathed in the silver glow of the moon.

Despite its remote location, the manor was alive with energy. As Jungkook pulled up the winding driveway, you could already hear the faint hum of music drifting from within, an undertone to the laughter and clinking of glasses.

Jin’s home was more than just a lavish estate; it was the heart of their coven, a sanctuary that housed centuries of history. Ancient relics, preserved documents, and books bound in timeworn leather lined the vast library that stretched across one wings of the house. Jin had graciously allowed you to explore it before, though even after countless hours buried in those tomes, you had barely made a dent in its secrets. Centuries of vampire lore lived here, and it was precisely that allure that had made Jimin so adamant about hosting the party at the manor this year.

When you and Jungkook arrived, the massive double doors were already open, held by two eerily still gentlemen dressed in midnight-black suits. Their expressions were unreadable, their gazes sharp but unmoving.

You barely spared them a glance before stepping inside, though a part of you wondered—were they vampires? Or just illusions, elegant puppets crafted by Jimin’s magic? It wouldn’t be the first time he had conjured something like this for dramatic effect.

The moment you crossed the threshold, you were swallowed by opulence.

The vast entrance hall was bathed in a dazzling glow, every inch of the ceiling and walls adorned with sparkling gemstones, strung together like constellations. The light from the grand chandelier refracted off the stones, casting glittering reflections across the marble floors, creating an illusion of stardust swirling through the air.

It was breathtaking.

The energy in the room was magnetic—guests, both vampire and human, dressed in the finest silks and velvets, mingled effortlessly. Laughter and music wove through the air like silk threads, wrapping around you as you took it all in.

You leaned into Jungkook, who had an iron glad grip on your waste since entering the house. “Remind me to tell Jimin there could have been more glitter.”

Jungkook laughed, “I know he really over did it this time.”

“No!” You wave your hand dismissing him, “It's fantastic this is stuff you really only read about.”

And it was.

The sheer extravagance of the event was unlike anything you had ever seen. The caterers, gliding through the crowd, were dressed almost as exquisitely as the guests themselves, adorned in dark silks with golden accents, carrying trays of crystal glasses filled with deep, crimson liquid. Blood. Some trays held what you assumed was champagne, meant for the few humans—like yourself—who had been granted entry to this ethereal gathering.

The walls shimmered with illusions, flickering images of dazzling courtiers and celestial phenomena. The ceiling above transformed into a starry sky that seemed almost real, galaxies swirling and constellations twinkling in slow, mesmerizing motion.

Jungkook dragged you along as you basked in every intricate detail, his hand firm yet patient as he guided you toward the grand staircase that led up to the main ballroom.

At the foot of the stairs, Jin and Jimin stood poised like royalty, greeting each guest as they arrived. Jin was immaculate in a deep burgundy ensemble that complimented his yellow eyes, exuding effortless authority, while Jimin—never one to be outshined—was a vision in icy silver, his entire look designed to catch the light and demand attention. Jimin had also bleached his hair back to blonde to seemingly match his outfit. All making his red eyes shine brighter.

Guests arrived behind you in a steady stream, some carrying elegantly wrapped gifts, others presenting cases of unknown offerings—rare wines, expensive liquors, or perhaps something even more elusive.

“Oh a vision in green.”

Jimin’s voice was warm and teasing as he extended a hand toward you, taking yours with effortless grace and placing a chaste kiss to the back of it. His lips curled into a knowing smile as he straightened, eyes flickering with mischief.

“Jimin, this is truly something else.” Your gaze swept across the dazzling room once more, still in awe of how something so grand, so utterly enchanting, could exist completely hidden from the rest of the world.

“You flatter me.” He hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Jungkook helped a lot in getting some of these decorations, so he deserves some credit.”

Jimin shot a wink in Jungkook’s direction, though you caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips—no doubt remembering the near disaster that had almost cost them an entire ballroom and possibly Jungkook’s head in the process.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what else you have planned for the night.” You bounced on your heels, excitement thrumming through you.

Jimin, ever the opportunist, wasted no time looping his arm through yours, effectively pulling you closer. He leaned slightly around you, peering at Jungkook, who was momentarily engaged in quiet conversation with Jin.

“Can I steal her away?”

Jungkook’s brows lifted, gaze flicking between the two of you with mild suspicion. “Already? We haven’t even gotten a drink.”

“I promise to bring her back before midnight!” Jimin didn’t even wait for a response before whisking you away, your shoes clicking against the marble steps as you struggled to match his pace.

You barely managed to wave at Jungkook, who remained at the foot of the stairs, watching you go with a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement. But the moment your eyes met, his softened, comforted by the unfiltered excitement on your face.

Jimin led you straight into the ballroom—an even grander spectacle than the entrance hall.

A massive Phantom of the Opera-style chandelier hung from the center of the vaulted ceiling, illuminated by shifting technicolor light that cast mesmerizing reflections onto the polished floor. Rhinestone streamers draped across the ceiling like cascading waterfalls, shimmering under the glow. The same illusionary night sky from the main hall continued here, except now, the constellations moved, twinkling and rearranging themselves in intricate patterns, like a cosmic dance only the stars understood.

The music was rich and full-bodied, played live by a band on a raised stage at the far end of the room. Couples twirled on the dance floor in elegant, sweeping motions, lost in the rhythm of the night. Along the walls, guests gathered in small clusters, glasses in hand, some already deep into their drinks, their laughter and whispered conversations filling the space like a carefully orchestrated melody.

“Monique! I got her!” Jimin called out suddenly, his voice cutting through the lively chatter.

A woman with cascading dark curls turned at the sound of his voice, her deep purple gown clinging to her frame as she pivoted effortlessly. The backless design of her dress only added to her commanding presence, and as she lifted a delicate crystal glass to her lips, the deep red stain left behind told you exactly what she’d been drinking. Her hair curly and draped around her in effortless elegance. Orange eyes shining under the lights.

Monique.

She was one of Jin’s closest confidantes and Yoongi’s wife—212 years old, sharp as a dagger, and the resident doctor who could mend almost any injury, supernatural or otherwise. She was a force of nature in her own right. You could only imagine what Yoongi was like if she was like this, you had never had the pleasure of meeting him. Just heard stories.

At the sight of you, her face lit up. “Darling!” she cheered, her voice smooth as silk yet edged with a teasing warmth.

She closed the distance between you in an instant, placing affectionate kisses on both of your cheeks before pulling back to admire you fully.

“My God, you look gorgeous.” You gave her a once-over in return, a slow grin tugging at your lips.

“Right?” She lifted her arms and gave a twirl, letting the deep purple silk of her gown fan out elegantly before settling back into place. “Always ready to impress.”

“And I am.” Without hesitation, you linked your arm through hers, Jimin still holding onto your other side, the three of you now moving as an exclusive little trio through the glittering expanse of the ballroom. The energy in the room crackled—laughter, conversation, the clink of glasses, and the distant hum of the live band blending seamlessly together.

“So, what have I missed so far?” You asked, glancing between them.

Monique took a slow sip from her glass, the deep red liquid staining her lips like crushed roses. When she pulled back, her eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Nothing at all, darling. The party has just begun.”

There was something reassuring in her tone, but you didn’t miss the way her grip on you remained firm. Protective.

These gatherings were grand, extravagant, and, by all means, safe—but that never stopped the occasional stray vampire from giving in to temptation. You were painfully, unmistakably human, and your scent had already caught the attention of several guests. Their gazes lingered just a second too long, their smiles just a bit too sharp. Monique, ever perceptive, had already positioned herself between you and a few of the more curious onlookers, a subtle yet deliberate message—this one is not yours to touch.

“With you here, my dear, I can actually get things started.” Jimin mused, flashing you a grin before gracefully slipping out of your grasp.

Your eyes followed him as he moved through the ballroom like a phantom, effortless and commanding. Without a single spoken request, guests instinctively parted for him, creating space at the center of the grand hall. The shift was immediate, the energy in the room tightening like a drawn bowstring. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd, and then, as if bewitched, the music began to die down.

Jimin turned on his heel, his expression slipping from playful to regal in an instant. When he spoke, his voice carried through the room, smooth as silk yet impossible to ignore.

“Undead and undesired.” He began, the corners of his lips curling mischievously. “Welcome to the greatest night of your lives.”

A round of applause echoed through the hall, accompanied by knowing laughter from those familiar with his theatrics. He soaked in the attention, allowing just the right amount of dramatic pause before continuing.

“I am your glorious host for this evening.” He declared, his arms spreading wide as if embracing the entire room. “You’ve heard me say it all before the universe made earth, then man, and then the vampire.” A rounding sound of hisses left everyone in the room, a large display of teeth and intimidation. “And we have many great things in store for you tonight—stories that will haunt your dreams, performances that will leave you breathless, and blood that will keep you satisfied until the end of time… or at least until my next party.”

More laughter, the atmosphere growing lighter, though the air remained charged with anticipation.

“Please, enjoy yourselves.” Jimin’s gaze flickered over the crowd, his smirk deepening. “Indulge as much as you wish. Tonight, we feast, we dance, and we are one with the night.”

With a spin and swish of his finger, the illusion that was once on the ceiling dripped down to the floor. Making it appear as if instead of walking on marble everyone was walking on the night sky. The illusion also seemed to envelope Jimin and his hair turned black and his suit went from silver to a midnight blue. The chandelier above shimmered, the illusionary constellations shifting in a dazzling display. The band struck up a new tune, rich and decadent, and just like that, the night was set into motion once more.

Monique exhaled beside you, shaking her head with a fond chuckle. “That boy was born to put on a show.”

“He does it rather well if I do say so.” You say, grabbing a champagne off of a tray that passes by you. Taking a sip, and of course Jimin had gotten a very nice quality champagne for this affair. You would probably be responsible for drinking two of the bottles.

“Where’s your boy?” Monique glances around the room seeing if she can spot Jungkook herself.

“Jimin dragged me away before he could follow. He’ll find us.” You said, taking another sip.

The music in the air swelled as a performance took center stage, dancers twirling in perfect synchrony, their movements almost hypnotic. The glittering lights overhead cast shifting patterns across the floor, and Jimin had once again disappeared, likely off to greet more guests.

“I have no doubt he’ll find us soon. You two start to implode when away from each other too long.” She teased, squeezing your arm.

“That may be a little true.” You giggle, sipping your champagne.

“It’s sweet. You’re really great for him. I’ve always thought that.” She hums, which was true. She has told you many times over the years how great she thinks the two of you are. She was the most encouraging of the relationship in the beginning before Jungook told everyone he was dating a human.

“What about you?” You asked, tilting your head curiously. “Where is this mysterious Yoongi I’ve heard about for years?”

You’d expected a flippant response, maybe even an exasperated sigh, but instead, a flicker of something serious crossed Monique’s face. It was so quick, you almost missed it but not quite. She schooled her features almost instantly, her smirk returning as she glanced behind you.

“Speaking of your lovesick puppy.” She raises her glass to Jungkook who was coming in your direction.

You turn to look at him, a smile on his face. “Five seconds in this place, and they steal you from me.” He said, immediately reaching for your free hand.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I think they like me better than you.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I think you’re right.” Then, glancing toward Monique, he added, “Hey, Mon.”

“Jungkook.” She tipped her glass in his direction. “Happy New Year. Get yourself a drink.” Without waiting for a response, she snagged a goblet off another passing tray and handed it to him.

He accepted it with a nod. “Happy New Year. Planning to steal her from me again?” He teased, resting his head lightly against yours.

“No I’ll let you have her back… for now.” Monique’s smile remained in place, but something in her tone shifted slightly. You caught it again, that same momentary change in her expression. And then, just like that, she was stepping away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice.

“Where do you want to start?” Jungkook leaned in close to your ear. “Dancing, gambling, making out in the bathroom. I like the last one but that’s me.”

You smile, hitting him in the chest, “We need at least two more drinks before we can do that.”

“Boo, you’re no fun.” He clinks his glass against yours, “Guess I need to start.”

You stop him before he takes a sip, “Hold on, one more kiss before you have iron mouth the rest of the mouth.”

He smiles, leaning in and giving you a lingering kiss. Wanting more but not really wanting to stick his tongue down your throat in front of all these people.

With that, the night raged on, a whirlwind of movement and sound. You and Jungkook drifted from room to room, immersed in stories that spanned centuries. Some vampires were impossibly old, their gazes heavy with history, while others were younger, still burning with the reckless energy of newfound immortality. There were dazzling performances—some manipulating fire with a flick of their fingers, others bending shadows into eerie, shifting forms. Illusions warped reality before your eyes, grand halls transforming in an instant, blurring the line between what was real and what was merely a trick of power.

The night reached its peak with a fencing match and sleek steel flashing under candlelight, footwork so precise it looked more like choreography than combat. The duelists struck with deadly accuracy, piercing and slashing in ways that would have been fatal to any human. But here, wounds were shrugged off, blades pulled from chests without so much as a grimace before the fight resumed. Laughter and applause rippled through the crowd, the energy of the gathering growing wilder as midnight loomed. Blood flowed freely, whether in ornate goblets or from the eager mouths of those who had abandoned restraint.

Jungkook and you got separated at some point. You had found Rehna amongst the chaos though.

You both were now in a drawing room which was hosting the outfit competition. Waiting for the results to be read allowed. Rehna had her hands clamped tight around yours, almost painfully but you knew she was excited. Hoseok was the hosting vampire for this year’s competition.

“Second place goes too,” He opened up the small envelope, “The vampire Rehna.”

You let go of her hand and start clapping yours and join in cheers from other vampires as she walks on stage to accept her award. She was happy but you could tell she was a little bitter about not getting first. She rejoins you as the winner gets their prize.

“Hey that was a tough call, I mean that girl who got first literally had made her dress in the 18th century… you can’t beat that.” You try to comfort her, but she picks herself up quickly.

“Starting tomorrow we are planning my outfit for next year. That first place is mine.” She nods, gripping onto her small trophy so tight that it seemed to bend underneath her grip.

“Hey, the top three get to take home some really nice bottles of blood. Why don’t we go pick yours out?” You say pulling her past other guests to leave the drawing room.

You both make your way back into the heart of the house where you pass some tall French doors that lead to a balcony area. Some vampires were smoking and other vampires leaning casually and others in deep discussion. You almost think nothing of it before you catch a glimpse of Monique standing outside alone. It makes you stop in your tracks. Rehna noticing your pause.

“You alright?” She raises an eyebrow to you, trying to see what you see.

You wave for her to continue on, “You go ahead. I’ll find you later.”

She wants to pry but nods and continues as you turn to head out onto the balcony. The view of the estate just looked over the woods that spanned one side of the house. You could see the stars pretty clearly out here and it would be a lovely spot to sit and think. You understand why Monique may be finding solace here. You couldn’t help if you said something wrong to her earlier. She usually would be enjoying the festivities but was here… alone. Having that same look on her face that you saw earlier.

The cold air bites against your skin, sharp and unwelcome, but you push past the discomfort and step closer to Monique. The moonlight catches in her dark eyes, and there’s something distant in her expression, a weight you can’t quite name.

"Care for some company?" You offer, your voice light despite the strange tension in the air.

She turns toward you with a soft, practiced smile. "Oh, darling. Having a good night?"

"So far, yes," You admit, swaying slightly as warmth buzzes through your limbs. "I’m a little tipsy, to be honest." You giggle, the edges of your amusement blurring under the influence, and Monique’s smile lingers, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Are you alright? You don’t seem as festive as you usually are at these things." You press, watching her closely.

She hums, a quiet acknowledgment, then exhales slowly. "I’m alright. Still having a good time, I promise. Just… some old memories getting kicked up."

"Was it something I said earlier? I’m sorry if I—"

She cuts you off with a small shake of her head. "No, not at all. I already knew I was going to feel this way tonight. It has nothing to do with you."

You study her, unconvinced. "Well, then what is it? I’m pretty good at listening. Even if I don’t always understand all the vampire stuff." You shrug, trying to offer levity.

A flicker of hesitation crosses her face, but then she sighs, her gaze flicking away. "It’s… Yoongi."

Your head tilts slightly. "The famous and elusive husband?"

The name lingers in the air between you. You’ve heard plenty about Yoongi. Whispers of a sharp mind, a man who seemed to exist only in the stories others told. You’d assumed he was simply away, a researcher, a traveler always chasing something beyond your reach. Whenever the subject arose, the conversation had a way of dissolving into something else, slipping through your fingers before you could grasp any real details. The way everyone spoke about him made it feel like he was still here.

Just hidden, just unseen.

"Yes…" Monique’s voice is quieter now, careful. "Has Jungkook talked about him much?"

"Here and there.” You admit. "The subject always seems to get dropped pretty quickly, though. I’ve heard plenty of stories from everyone else. I’ve always wanted to meet him, but it feels like… like he’s never around."

A pause. "Makes sense.” She murmurs, gaze flickering as if she’s choosing her words with precision. "Well, they were very close… Are close. Come with me."

She nods her head back inside and she takes your hand before you can ask anything else, fingers cool and firm as she pulls you through the party.

She grabs two more glasses which you assume is for herself. She leads you down two flights of stairs, away from the pulse of the party, the sounds fading into a distant echo. The air grows cooler, the flickering light from the sconces casting elongated shadows on the stone walls. You recognize this path and its one that leads to the cellars, a place you’ve rarely ventured. Few people come down here during these gatherings. It feels… separate, untouched by the revelry above.

“This feels like I'm being set up to be sacrificed or something.” You joke, trying to lighten the eerie atmosphere.

Monique lets out a laugh, her voice rich and amused. “Weird place to sacrifice you, considering there are over two hundred vampires upstairs.”

“True.” You admit, though the further she leads you, the less sure you are about anything. The air shifts, turning cooler, denser. The house above is lavish, but down here, it feels ancient. The stone walls, though well-lit, seem to close in the deeper you go.

There’s a shift in Monique’s expression, something amused yet knowing. “Oh, also, your boyfriend is trying to find you. He’s calling out.”

You groan. “How bad?”

“Pretty drunk.”

“Oh no.” You sigh, rubbing your temple. “He probably drank that mulled blood stuff. He waits all year for it.”

Monique smirks. “He’s going to be a handful when you get back.”

Great. You were already preparing for a very clingy, very intoxicated Jungkook draping himself over you the moment you surfaced from… whatever this was. But for now, Monique’s grip on your wrist is firm, leading you deeper into the underground corridors.

Eventually, you reach a narrow hallway lined with locked doors. Some have glass doors, showing carefully preserved artifacts displayed in temperature-controlled rooms and historical relics, no doubt, kept safe from time and age. Others bear plaques reading “Archives.” You recognize the setup from the old library you used to work at, except this was older, untouched by time in a way that made your stomach twist.

Monique stops at the last door. It’s heavier than the others, its dark wood carved with intricate patterns, a symbol you don’t recognize etched into the center. Without hesitation, she opens it.

The room inside is cold. Silent. The flickering lights barely reach the high ceilings, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The walls are lined with plaques, names etched in silver, and beneath them, urns carefully placed in recessed alcoves. It looks like a crypt, and the air feels thick with something unspoken.

But what catches your attention isn’t the room itself—it’s the statue at the very end.

It’s life-sized, eerily detailed. A man, frozen mid-motion, his body twisted as if recoiling from something unseen. His expression is caught between defiance and fear, lips slightly parted, eyes wide. He’s propped up with supports, standing atop a pedestal, carved in a military-style uniform.

You hesitate near the doorway, the weight of the space pressing down on you. Monique, however, steps forward, placing one of the glasses of blood on the pedestal’s edge with deliberate care. Then she turns to you, her gaze unreadable.

“Y/N,” She says softly, her voice carrying through the quiet, “meet Yoongi.”

You blink. Once. Twice.

Your gaze flicks between her and the statue, confusion settling into your bones. “What?”

She looks at the figure, then back at you. “This is Yoongi.” She lifts a hand toward the frozen man, as if introducing him formally.

You take a cautious step forward. “I’m confused.”

“There’s a long story here, but this…” Monique exhales, her expression tightening. “This is my husband. This is why you’ve never met him.”

A sharp chill slides down your spine. You glance at the room again, at the plaques, at the urns. Your stomach twists. “Did… D-Did he die?”

Monique shakes her head, her voice dropping to something nearly inaudible. “That would be easier.”

You step closer, standing beside her now. She’s staring at the statue like it might move, like it might suddenly exhale and return to her after years of silence. You don’t interrupt. After a long moment, she takes a deep breath. “How much has Jungkook told you about… vampire powers? Our history?”

You shake your head slightly. “Jungkook’s told me details here and there. I’ve asked a lot of questions, but honestly… it still feels like I’ve barely scratched the surface even after two years.”

Monique hums in acknowledgment. “It’s complicated.” She says, nodding. “As you know, we all have the speed, the strength, the mind reading… but beyond that, we each develop our own abilities. When a vampire has the power to manipulate something, and I mean truly change it, the only one who can undo that power is the one who cast it in the first place.”

A small pause echos between you. You watch as she seems to make a decision, deciding to tell a different story.

She continues, voice distant. “I met Yoongi at the beginning of the 19th century. My sister and I had just moved to England, escaping a war that wasn’t ours. My father had connections and secured us a comfortable life through distant relatives. It was exciting but suddenly, we had titles, dowries, invitations to every ball. For a young woman, it was everything society told me I should want.” She lets out a quiet laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “Yoongi was a Viscount at the time.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really?”

“They were having fun with it.” A small smirk touches her lips, as if recalling something fond. “Anyway, Yoongi was highly sought after that season. He had wealth, he was gorgeous, and he had absolutely no intention of marrying.”

You can’t help but smile. “So how did you get his attention?”

Monique’s smirk widens, her gaze flicking to the statue. “It’s a classic story. Boy meets girl. Girl spills wine on him in front of everyone.”

You wince. “Oh no.”

“It was mortifying.” Monique shakes her head at the memory, a soft, wistful laugh escaping her lips. “I spent days trying to make it right, sending notes, trying to find a way to replace his coat. Apologizing over and over, but he didn’t care in the slightest. He actually found it amusing how much care I placed in a simple dress shirt.”

She falls silent then, her eyes locked onto Yoongi’s frozen form, as if trapped in the past alongside him. The weight of her grief settles over the room like a thick fog, making the air heavy, pressing against your chest.

“So then what?” You ask gently, urging her on.

“He started coming around more often. We became fast friends, though he never officially courted me. It all just… fell into place. One day, I realized I couldn’t help how I felt. Except he beat me to it. Probably read my mind or something.” Shaking her head with pursed lips, “It was easy, natural… until he had to tell me about the vampire part.”

“How did he do it?”

“He just blurted it out.” She huffs a small laugh, the memory clearly amusing in hindsight. “He wasn’t dramatic about it, didn’t sugarcoat it, just said it. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. He didn’t care if I knew. He was so sure I wouldn’t blink twice over it. And he was right. I didn’t.” She shrugs. “I had no idea before that. They were very good at keeping themselves hidden back then.”

You shift your weight slightly, glancing again at the statue, at the way Yoongi’s body is posed. “Then he asked you to marry him?”

Monique exhales a long breath, her fingers tightening around the glass she holds. “Yoongi was actually afraid to ask me to marry him. Vampires asking for a human’s hand in marriage is a big deal. You are asking this person to be with you for eternity. It meant Yoongi was asking to turn me, turn into a vampire. Now he had little hesitation about it, for a long time, but he was terrified of what it meant. Of taking something from me. My humanity, my chance at a ‘normal’ life. He worried about things like children, about whether I would resent the decision later.” She shakes her head. “But I never wanted children. I watched my mother have five boys and knew early on that that life wasn’t for me.”

“So what did you say when he finally asked?”

A soft, nostalgic smile curves her lips. “I told him there was nothing I wanted more. That the idea of forever with him didn’t scare me. That it excited me.” Her gaze flickers with warmth, but only for a moment before the sadness creeps back in. “He was so surprised by my willingness. But for me, it was the easiest decision in the world. That I would willingly die for him.”

Silence hangs between you for a beat before you press further. “So then… how… when did this happen?”

Monique’s expression shifts, her voice quieter now. “It happened during World War One. Humans weren’t the only ones at war. There was a war between vampires, too. A lot of vampire men were drafted into the human armies, fighting not just humans, but each other. And the women… we fought our own battles in the shadows, deep in the forests.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “No matter how powerful we think we are, war finds a way to break everyone.”

Your stomach knots at the implication.

“One night, Yoongi and Jin were on patrol for their unit when they were ambushed by a squad of enemy vampires. They had no idea what kind of abilities these vampires had, but they were outnumbered. Jin managed to take down two of them, but he got badly injured in the process. Yoongi, was trying to get Jin out, trying to protect him. And then…” She swallows hard, her eyes drifting back to the statue. “One of them petrified him.”

“Oh no.”

She nods. “Turned to stone instantly.” Her fingers clenched into fists. “Jungkook and Hoseok found Jin, barely alive, but by the time they got there, it was too late. The vampire who did this to him was gone. No trace. No way to track them.” She exhales sharply. “They brought Yoongi back like this… and he’s been this way ever since.”

A cold chill creeps up your spine as you stare at Yoongi’s statue. The idea that he isn’t dead but that he’s still in there, trapped, unable to move, unable to speak—makes your skin crawl.

“You haven’t found the vampire who did this? Even after all this time?” You whisper.

Monique’s jaw tightens, and when she speaks, her voice is edged with something far more dangerous than sadness.

“No.”

Her lips press together before she exhales sharply. “It’s possible they’re dead. But it doesn’t undo the effect.” Her voice wavers, frustration and grief laced together in a fragile thread. “It’s almost ironic. Yoongi spend most of his life dedicated to understanding vampires better. Yoongi spent centuries researching vampire abilities, collecting books, studying cases, trying to understand all the different powers we possess… and yet, even with all his research, we still don’t have an answer.” She lets out a humorless laugh. “So he’s just… like this. Until we find a way to undo it.”

Your throat tightens. “Mon… I’m so sorry.” A small tear escaping one of your eyes. The grief that escapes her overwhelming you.

She shakes her head. “No need to apologize.” She reaches over, wiping your tear away. “And no need for tears.”

“But—I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

“It’s…” She hesitates. “It’s painful. I have to keep living in the hopes we find something… For the first few years, I wasn’t—I was just existing. A shell of myself, searching for answers, desperate for anything that could fix this. I hunted for that vampire for what felt like forever. We had leads, rumors about others with similar abilities, but they always led to dead ends.”

You swallow, glancing back at Yoongi’s unmoving figure. “You know… Can he hear us?”

Monique exhales slowly. “We don’t know. We all talk to him regardless, just in case. We tell him about the world, about what’s happening, about us. We try to keep him filled in… but honestly?” Her voice wavers. “A part of me hopes he can hear us. But another part of me hopes he can’t. That he hasn’t been sitting here, awake, for more than a hundred years, unable to move, unable to speak.”

Your eyes widen at the realization, he could be awake. “Oh my god. I hadn’t even thought about that.”

Monique’s eyes soften, but there’s an unbearable weight behind them. “Yeah… so today is hard. It’s supposed to be a celebration, but how do I celebrate without the person I want most? Sometimes it feels like he died. The grief comes and goes, like waves, crashing when I least expect it.”

“I don’t know… I’m sorry.” You murmur.

She meets your gaze, a flicker of something unreadable in her expression. “I hope we can find something.” She sighs, rolling the stem of her glass between her fingers. “But at least we live in a lasting age of peace now. Vampires have worked hard to bridge the gaps between us. We won’t have to fight like that again. We lost so many—so many were sacrificed.”

She pauses, then continues. “We’ve had vampires come from all over, trying to help. Some of them were Yoongi’s friends, people he helped in their time of need. But no matter how many have tried…” She gestures toward him, her voice barely above a whisper. “We’re still here.”

You hesitate, glancing around the dimly lit space. “Why is he down here? Why not up at the party, where people can pay their respects?”

Monique’s jaw tightens. “Because in the ‘90s, some drunk idiot broke off his left arm.”

Your eyes widen. “Shit.”

She nods, and now that you look closer, you can see the faint lines where the repair was made. Just below the shoulder.

“After that, we decided Yoongi couldn’t be displayed at the parties anymore. It was too dangerous. Too much risk.”

Your chest tightens at the thought. “That’s awful.”

She hums, staring at her glass before tipping it slightly in the direction of the other drink she brought down. “That’s why I bring this.” She says softly. “It’s for him. So he can still celebrate. I always come down here on this night. I spend the New Year with him.”

Your heart aches at the quiet devotion in her voice. “That’s… so sad.”

Monique shakes her head, offering you the ghost of a smile. “No sadness tonight. It’s a night of celebration.” She reaches out, squeezing your hand gently. “You should go back up. I’ll be okay. Now that you’ve finally met Yoongi.”

“Well it was lovely to meet you Yoongi.” You nod towards him looking back to her, “I don’t mind staying.”

“You have so much to celebrate.” She gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Go be with everyone. Celebrate into the night. It’s close to midnight, and I’ve kept you long enough.”

You open your mouth to protest, but at that moment—

Baby. Baby, where are you?

Jungkook’s voice echoes in your mind, petulant and needy. He sounds whiny, which means he’s definitely had a few too many drinks. If you don’t go find him, he’s liable to start running through the halls, searching for you like a lovesick idiot.

You sigh, amused. “I’ll come say goodbye before we leave.”

Monique nods, her expression warm but tired. “Okay.”

With one last glance at Yoongi’s frozen form, you turn and head back up to the party—leaving Monique to her vigil, her love for him unwavering even after a century of waiting.

With a heavy heart and a mind full of tangled thoughts, you ascend the stairs, leaving behind the weight of Monique and Yoongi’s story. Their tragedy lingers in your chest, an ache that refuses to settle. She’s been waiting, searching, for him, for a way to bring him back. The sorrow in her voice clings to you, and as much as you wish you could do something, anything, to help… you know there’s nothing.

The party is still in full swing as you step back into the throng of people. Laughter echoes through the grand halls, music thrums beneath your feet, and the faint scent of spilled champagne lingers in the air. You weave your way through the crowd, your mind distracted as you search for Jungkook.

He could be anywhere by now, lost in the sea of guests. You sigh, dodging a pair of unsteady dancers and taking note of the slight destruction left in the wake of too much drinking—Jimin is going to love that.

“Oh, Jungkook, where are you?” You murmur to yourself, scanning the faces around you.

If only you had some supernatural ability to read minds, to pull his thoughts from the noise and find him in an instant instead of aimlessly wandering.

You slip into a quieter hallway, peeking into rooms as you pass, hoping to spot him. Nothing. It’s almost comical—he’s likely looking for you too, both of you just barely missing each other in the chaos.

Meanwhile, Jungkook has been trapped for the past hour listening to Jimin’s annual rant about how he should have won a gold medal in the 1972 Winter Olympics. He tells the story every single year, growing more bitter with time. Jungkook, slouched on a couch with his head hanging over the back, has all but tuned him out, using what little cognitive function he has left to search for your mind instead.

It’s proving difficult.

He’s six—no, seven drinks in. His limbs feel heavy, his mind hazy.

His eyes are closed when he feels it, a soft press of lips against his forehead. His red eyes blink open, vision blurry before it sharpens, landing on you. You’re smiling down at him, hands braced on either side of his head, warmth radiating from your touch.

“My love.” You say and Jungkook hums. A drunken smile on his face. Unbeknownst to him you had left a lipstick march on his forehead. In his search for him, you took a pause to reapply it.

“You found me.” He sighs. You kiss hip lips, a little awkward since his head was upside down. Leaving another stain on his lips. Then another on both of his cheeks. Another on his nose. All leaving lipstick stains behind.

“Now you look perfect.” You laugh at your work, Jungkook still unaware of what you had done. You pull out your phone to take a picture. It would be a good one to show him later.

“I need to tell you a secret.” He says staring up at you while you stare at the picture.

“Yeah?” You look at him and he curls his finger gesturing for you to come closer. You lean your head close to his mouth.

“I’m a vampire.” He whispers. Then, with a chuckle, he giggles at himself.

You snort, pulling back to look at him properly. “Oh my god, I had no idea.”

He waves for you to come close again and you comply, “I also really want to rip that dress off with my teeth.”

“Hot, maybe another time.” You whisper to him. Standing back up straight. Jungkook hoists himself off of the couch. Walking past you with a smug grin on his face as he leaves the room.

Follow me. His voice calls back to you in your mind.

You trail after him as he just keeps on walking through the house, stumbling a little but mostly keeping himself up right. You stay close behind, he manages to swiftly grab another glass for himself and for you. He caught a quick glimpse of himself in a mirror and gave you a knowing look. You just shrug your shoulders like you had no idea what you had done.

Before he veers down another hallway, which was technically off limits to other party members. You knew this wing, this is where the library was. Which is exactly where Jungkook ducked into. Things that were old but could be safely kept out in the open for those to look at regularly were kept here. It was a beautiful collection that Jin had curated over the years. Some works you would never find in any parts of the world. It didn’t shield from the rest of the sounds of the party but it was much quieter. Only a lamp was left on so the light in here was dark.

“No Jin will actually kill us if he sees we brought drinks in here!” You protest staying a foot outside the door while Jungkook stands inside.

“He’ll never know, plus he likes you so he would never get mad at you.”

“Jungkook it’s almost midnight, we'll miss the countdown.”

“We can have our own.”

“But-“

“Come here.” He grabs your hand pulling you into the room anyways. Closing the door behind the both of you. “I just want one moment just with you.”

He sets the glasses down on one of the side tables. Taking your hand again. Pulling you into him. You don’t protest him letting yourself fall into his arms.

It was just a comfortable silence between the two of you for a moment. The hum of the music outside filled in the void as your mind was flooded. Your chest was so full and so warm because you just loved Jungkook so much. Your mind still wandered. Thinking about something like what happened to Yoongi and Monique… you couldn’t imagine. How would you even handle that kind of thing if it was you two. She’s been waiting for over a hundred years now.

They only got a small piece of forever together.

You felt every word she said about Yoongi because it’s all the same things you felt for Jungkook. You would go searching the world for something to fix him. To bring him back to you. You would do anything.

You would die for him.

Your thoughts are interrupted. The sounds of people outside begin to countdown from 30.

“So what do you want in the new year?” You ask him, your arms hugging tighter around Jungkook.

He thought for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip, “Never hear Jimin’s Olympic story ever again. I lived it… I already know what happened.”

You laugh, “Be serious.”

20.

“Fine. I don’t need anything. I have everything I want already.”

“Everything? That’s a lot.”

“I know.”

15.

Jungkook leans close to your ear. “What about you? What do you want for the new year?”

“I think I want to have everything… I don’t have it quite yet.”

“What do you mean?”

10.

“I just…” The words caught in your throat because you had wanted it for much longer than you were willing to voice. You had thought about it since the day he told you but you weren’t sure if you were ready.

“What is it?”

“I want more than this Jungkook… I want forever.”

“What are you saying?”

“I want you. I want our life. I don’t think I was ready to talk about it before but I want it now…”

“Y/N.”

“I want to be like you... I want you to turn me into a vampire.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

a/n: woof this is a long one, I hope you enjoyed!! Let me know your thoughts plssssssss... I will try to have the next part out as soon as possible but enjoy this for now <3

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