#i want my ads to be vague and desperate

[hippopotatoe]

"do you accept cookies" my dude, when i see ads in my own language i know it's once again time for a factory reset

[arolesbianism]

Ok I'm having Joshua mental illness get hit with the me making bullshit up beam boy you could be so interesting if we try hard enough

[frehyun]

Backstage Fun

idol!hyunjin x afab!reader

warnings: protected sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, power imbalance (fan and their idol), hair pulling, nipple play, denied orgasm

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.5k

author's note: freya get to the point challenge failed, i feel like this is a whole lot of build up and not a lot of payoff but I still like how it turned out! second time writing smut and it's still really difficult, my respect goes out to all the regular smut writers, y'all are something else ❤️‍🩹 please let me know what you think!

this was requested by @kiki1323 and i took the creative liberty and added Redjin into the mix because. well. look at him. working on my first request was fun, so i hope i did it justice and hope you like it! <3

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

You are nervous. Extremely nervous. The kind of nervous where it feels like your heart is going to break through your ribs and jump right out of your chest, the poor organ hammering against its confines, the hard thumping echoing throughout your entire body, lump building inside your throat.

Never in your life would you have expected that a simple, exciting attendance at a concert would end up with you getting invited backstage by one of the artists that you adored to the moon and back.

A security guard came up to you after the concert hall had been cleared of most people, yourself still sitting there and coming down from the after-concert-adrenaline, asking if you were the ‘special guest’ invited by none other than Hwang Hyunjin himself. At first you were confused, ready to deny any mistaken identity and willing to laugh it off but then you saw the idol peeking his head out through one of the side entrances, giving you hand signals that you vaguely recognised as ‘play along, please’.

So you did.

Because if the Hyunjin said you were his special guest, then you were his special guest and nothing could stop you from playing along. Even if the part of him inviting you prior to the concert was a lie.

And that’s how you ended up here, in a backstage room that you assume must be his dressing room or something like that. It doesn’t really matter.

You nervously bite at the skin of your lips, no sight of Hyunjin so far making you even more anxious as you look around the room, desperate to find anything to occupy your mind with as you wait for him.

There wasn’t anything special about this room, just a large vanity, a table with refreshments and snacks on it and a ridiculously plushy couch that you were currently situated on, surrounded by strewn about clothes, bags and you assume some personal items that belonged to Hyunjin.

Before you could grow tired of counting how many little stones decorated the vanity across from you, the doorknob to the room turned, making your head snap towards the door.

There he was, wearing a fresh black shirt and some sweatpants, having changed out of his sweaty concert clothes, a sheepish smile on his face as he apologises politely for making you wait and closing the door behind him.

Your heart lurches right to your throat at the sight of him. He was even more gorgeous from up close, even the harsh overhead lighting couldn’t destroy the features that you were always so mesmerised by.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

God, and his voice makes you want to kneel right down and do whatever he asked of you no questions asked.

Focus.

“Ah, no, it’s fine!”, you stammered, “what, uhm, what did I do to deserve being here?”

A mischievous smile spreads over his lips as his long legs bring him closer to you on the couch, stopping right in front of you to tower over you. He licks his lips and you think he is doing it on purpose.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, so I hope you’ll do the same with me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the concert”, he begins, reaching a hand out before stopping a short distance away from touching your cheek, searching your eyes for your approval or any sign of discomfort. You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod, making his eyes soften as he moves to caress your jaw, his thumb stroking across your skin gently.

“And I know this is sudden, you can say no and leave whenever you want to, but I’d love for you to stay and we could have some fun.”

Before you can stop it, your eyes flicker down to the front of his sweats at the implication before flickering back up to his face. Hyunjin’s eyes have a knowing glint in them, as if he already knows that your answer was going to be a loud and resounding ‘yes’.

“I’ll stay” – you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds.

He smiles down at you, taking your face properly between his two large hands. His cock twitches in his pants as you look up at him, the sight of you beneath him satisfying some deeper part of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin leans down to take your lips between his softly. Unsure what to do with your hands, you place them on his forearms, wanting nothing more than to just touch him anywhere you could reach. It’s still surreal to you that this was really happening, that it’s Hyunjin’s tongue making its way into your mouth, that it’s Hyunjin you taste.

He parts from you momentarily to sit down beside you on the plush couch, patting his muscular thighs as a sign for you to straddle him. There was no way you were going to refuse such a demand, so you climb on top of him and make yourself comfortable in his lap, your hands holding you steady on his broad shoulders as he grabs the back of your thighs greedily.

Not being able to hold yourself back anymore, you grab his face and capture his lips hungrily. Hyunjin seems to appreciate that, his hands sliding up your thighs to grab at your ass and his hips lifting up to grind into you, his clothed cock dragging deliciously against your core, drawing whimpers from the two of you simultaneously.

With your brain already turned into a fuzzy mess, you mindlessly keep moving your hips across his hardening length, desperate for any kind of friction against your pussy. He groans against your lips, his hand finding its way underneath your shirt and squeezing breast.

“Hyunjin…” – you moan and slide your hands across his chest, grazing his nipples and making him let out a whimper.

He rids himself of his shirt before moving to slide yours off your body, hastily discarding it alongside your bra.

In a sudden movement, he moves you to lay down on the couch while he kneels above you, his hands already fiddling with the zipper of your pants as he rids you of the offending garment as well.

“Beautiful” – he breathes and his fingers lightly press into the fabric of your already dampened panties, lazily stroking up and down, much to your chagrin, whining and bucking your hips into his hand.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” – his red hair was slightly falling over his face, framing it, as he sits back on his haunches to observe you. The outline of his dick straining against his sweats isn’t lost on you and you have half a mind to reach out to take him into your hand.

“Want you…”

He chuckles and hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. His long digits find your folds immediately, spreading your wetness around, his fingertips playing with your sensitive clit as you grow wetter for him, small wanton moans spilling from your lips for him.

Desperate to please him, your fingers wrap around his dick through his sweats, squeezing the head slightly.

He huffs out a breath at your touch. Hyunjin originally planned to drag this out as long as he could, wanting to blow off some steam but he grows increasingly more needy the longer you writhe underneath him so sweetly.

Some of his desperation seeps through to his actions, as he pushes two of his fingers into you, fucking them in and out of you at a rough pace.

“Are you gonna be all mine for today? Hm?” - Hyunjin says, his free hand spreading your legs further so he can slot his body between them while working his other hand at your core, bringing you closer to your high.

“Yes! All yours, Hyunjin!”

He smiles at your admission, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy right before the knot in your stomach snaps. You whine pathetically at being denied, your hips chasing his hand in a desperate attempt to get him back where you want him most.

“Sit up” – he orders and rids himself of his sweats and boxers, his cock slapping heavily against his belly. He pumps himself a few times as you oblige his demands. He doesn’t even need to ask any further for you to lean down and wrap your lips around his cock, sucking at the head eagerly. He moans loudly at the feeling, taking your hair into his hand in a makeshift ponytail as you take him deeper into your mouth.

You moan around him when he hits the back of your throat, your tongue moving at the underside of him.

“You’re taking me so well, princess. I can’t wait to be inside you and show you a good time” – his praise goes straight to your core and you moan around his length.

Hyunjin’s hips meet your every move in tandem before he curses and pulls you hastily off of him. You cannot help but think Hyunjin looks absolutely divine with that ravenous and fucked out look on his face. Something inside you twists when you think about how after tonight, you’ll probably never experience something like this again.

If Hyunjin notices you momentarily wincing at the less than fun thoughts invading your head, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

He pushes his sweaty hair back, your eyes lingering on how the motion makes the muscles of his arm stand out. You can’t help but notice that most of his sweat seems to be tinted red by his hair and it makes him seem even more irresistible, your fingers itching to test out if they would come back stained red if you card them through his hair.

Seemingly getting some of his sense back, he reaches to grab a condom from one of the bags laying about and you can’t help but wonder whether he planned on getting laid tonight. It wouldn’t surprise you. You’re here after all.

After making a show of ripping the package open with his teeth that made you dramatically roll your eyes at him and earning a chuckle from him, he rolls it on and crawls between your legs.

“Ready for the real show, sweetheart?”

You nod your head at him and hook your legs around his hips, wiggling closer to him. As he leans over you, his cock presses against your wet cunt.

Hyunjin’s patience to be inside you has worn thin, so he slides himself in in one fluid motion of his hips, making you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, angel. So wet, just for me” – he moans as his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of you around him. His cock drags deliciously against your walls as he starts fucking you in earnest, setting a fast pace, eager to get you two off.

“Mhm, just for you, Hyunjin!”

You pull him down to you to capture his lips in a passionate, wet kiss, holding his face in place and roughly tangling your hand into his hair, pulling at the strands as he pounds into you from above, groaning at the soft pain on his scalp. You try to burn how he tastes, how he sounds and how his skin feels beneath your skin into your mind so you’ll never forget this moment.

His thrusts become desperate ruts as he nears his high, his lips finding your neck in sloppy, wet kisses and bites.

“Y/N”, he wimpers into your ear, one hand entwining his fingers with yours, “I need you to come for me.” His unoccupied hand finds your clit, rubbing at it hastily.

You let go and your orgasm finds you quickly at his words, your body arching into his, legs clamping up around him, as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release as your walls clench around him.

“Fuck!” – his hips stutter as he spills his seed into the condom, squeezing his eyes shut and riding out his high.

When his thighs stop shaking against yours, you bring your hand up to gently move some of his hair out of his face, tucking the strand behind his ear. Your hand stays cradled against his jaw as he peers down at you, a slight smile on his lips.

You don’t remember if he was this flushed before but he certainly is now and it’s kind of endearing.

He slips out of you to get rid of the condom, making you whimper at the loss. You don’t really know what to do, if he wants you to get up and leave immediately or if he would rather you stay, so you stay frozen in your decision and don’t move an inch from where he left you.

In your rising nervousness, you start picking at your hands again and stop momentarily to amusedly realise that your hands are indeed slightly stained red from pulling at his hair. Something about it calms your heart again.

He comes back dressed in his boxers, phone and some wipes in hand. It’s a bit awkward when he cleans you up, you’re embarassed and try to look anywhere that isn’t him.

“No need to feel embarassed about this, angel. I really enjoyed my time with you” – Hyunjin says softly, caressing your cheek softly and turning your face towards him. He’s smiling at you, that cute stingray smile where his eyes disappear and you suddenly want to cry with all these emotions swirling around in your chest.

“I did, too”, you murmur, “uhm, can you pass me some of my clothes? I’ll get dressed and then I can get out of your hair. You must be exhausted after the concert and… all of this.”

He tilts his head at you but complies, helping you dress. He doesn’t pass you your jeans.

“Stay” – he says quietly as he pulls your shirt over your head, straightening it out, it’s long enough to at least cover your panties.

“What?”

“Stay. Let’s cuddle”, he smiles shyly, “I could use some more aftercare than whatever this was.”

“I-… Okay.”

He huffs a laugh as he climbs over you onto the couch, leaning back against the cushions and pulling you into his chest.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna come barging in, I made sure of that. Besides, we can shower later” – he explains and his hand runs over your spine soothingly as you lay your head on his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“I’d also like for this to not be the only time we see each other, if you’re okay with that. We can exchange numbers. I know we kind of have it all backwards, starting off like this and you being a fan and all but I’d like to get to know you properly, no weird power imbalance between us, just two people meeting up for a date.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, the heat rushing back to your face as you became redder at his words.

“I’d like that” – you happily answer him and he lets out a relieved sigh.

The two of you talk about idle things before Hyunjin drifts off to sleep first, leaving you awake in his warm embrace.

Listening to his soft breathing, you think to yourself that accepting Hyunjin’s proposal was one of the better decisions you’ve made lately and sigh contently, letting tiredness wash over your limbs and slumber take you, hoping that this was the beginning of something more than a short encounter.

[p0orbaby]

In Vino Veritas

summary: you’re drunk, aitana is missing and whose house is this?

warnings: alcohol

a/n: this is cute, and it’s made me want to write for tana more

word count: 2.5k

-

The music pulses around the house, loud and relentless, like it has a personal vendetta against silence, and you feel it vibrating through your bones. It’s some mainstream electronic track, too cheerful for the kind of reflective mood tequila usually grants you. Everything around you is a little hazy, a bit too bright, and you’re squinting at it all, like you’re looking at the world through frosted glass.

The wallpaper here is too clean, too deliberately “vintage,” with little pink roses blooming in neat, identical rows. You imagine, briefly, peeling the wallpaper back, layer by layer, finding more roses, more decades of them, stacked on top of each other like memories no one wants to talk about. But that’s a thought for another time, another you, one not stumbling over someone’s overly expensive thrifter rug and nearly tripping on a pair of boots discarded in the hallway.

Where the hell is Aitana?

It’s around the fifth time you’ve drunkenly circled the house when you spot Sunglasses Guy, a figure that almost feels like a test placed here by some malevolent spirit—an obstacle on your journey. He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter like he’s in a photoshoot, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. Indoors, sunglasses on, even though it’s dark outside. He’s got that air of self-importance, like he’s convinced that sunglasses are mysterious, that people look at him and think, Wow, who’s that? In reality, they’re thinking, Why is this guy wearing sunglasses in the dark?

He nods at you, a slow, deliberate motion, clearly trying to make you feel “seen” in some profound way, as if this is a moment the two of you will remember forever. But all you remember is your drink, the way it sloshes precariously as you shift your weight, and the way he leans in, smelling faintly of something vaguely woody and way too expensive.

“Do you know what NFTs are?” he asks, his voice low, a little sultry, like he thinks NFTs are the new “what’s your sign?”

You stare at him, and the words that spring to mind are “sunglasses,” “pretentious,” and, inexplicably, “parsley.” You’ve no idea where “parsley” came from, but your mind clings to it like smoke on cotton. “NFTs,” you repeat, as though it’s the punchline to a joke he hasn’t told. He takes this as an invitation to launch into what sounds like a memorised TED Talk, and you wonder, briefly, if you could just interrupt him by throwing your drink on his shoes.

“Aitana!” you yell instead, desperate, cutting him off mid-monologue, which he handles with a slightly indignant flick of his eyebrow.

“Where’s my girlfriend? Have you seen her?”

The phrase my girlfriend makes you beam internally. There’s a glow that forms when you think of her, a warmth that starts in your chest and blooms outward. She is, after all, the reason you’re here. The reason you even pretend to tolerate these kinds of social gatherings, with their sunglasses indoors and their endless monologues about digital assets.

He blinks, trying to recover from the abrupt derailment. “Uh, blockchain—”

“Ugh,” you mutter, interrupting again, giving him a very distinct dismissive wave, the kind of wave that says Please stop talking or I will find a way to escape this dimension entirely.

A girl nearby spills beer on your shoes. She mumbles an apology, not that you’re in a state to care; you brush it off. Aitana is the focus, the centre. Shoes don’t matter when you’re looking for someone who does.

Then, finally—finally—you see her. She’s leaning against the far wall, her posture so casual, like she’s posed there on purpose, like she’s an ad for the kind of life you’re pretty sure only exists in those short films that play before foreign films at independent cinemas. She’s listening intently to some guy in an aggressively patterned shirt, nodding along like he’s actually saying something worthwhile, and you can’t help but marvel at the patience it takes to look interested when you’re not.

“Oh my god, she’s so beautiful.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, but it comes out loud enough that a girl nearby laughs. You’re only mildly mortified; who cares? Aitana has just noticed you across the room, and now she’s looking at you with that expression, the one that melts your insides, that says, There you are.

You start walking toward her, though “walking” might be generous. It’s more of a determined stumble, like a baby deer on its first attempt at standing. Your brain registers that you’re approaching her, but your legs aren’t quite sure if they’re fully on board. At some point, you even have to pause and grab a nearby chair for balance, flashing a sheepish grin at a couple nearby who look half-amused, half-concerned.

“Aitanaaaa,” you call, drawing her name out like you’re serenading her. She’s already moving toward you, though, weaving gracefully through the crowd like it’s easy, natural. You think, Of course she’d come to me. Of course she’d know that I need rescuing.

“Hi, cariño,” she says softly, her voice lilting with that soft Spanish accent that, even now, sends a thrill up your spine. And it’s so gentle, so warm, like she’s wrapping you up in some invisible blanket. You lean into it, the warmth, her presence, like a moth to a flame.

“You’re so pretty,” you blurt out, your words tumbling over each other in their eagerness. “Like, stupid pretty. Like, why are you even with me?” Your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, as if the two of you are sharing a secret in a room filled with strangers. “I’m a disaster. I can’t even find the toilet in this place”

She laughs, this soft, lilting sound that feels like honey, thick and golden, spreading warmth from your chest to your fingertips. Her hand settles on your shoulder, steadying you, pulling you closer, and you realise how desperately you want to bury your face in the crook of her neck and just exist there, where things are quiet, soft. She smells faintly floral, and you realise it’s that same perfume she always wears, the one you borrowed once and promptly drenched yourself in until she told you, with a smile, that subtlety might work better.

“Why am I with you?” she echoes, the question hanging there between you, laced with a smile, with that familiar mischief. “Because I love you. And because you’re funny. And because you make my life interesting”

“Interesting?” You narrow your eyes, leaning back slightly, pretending to be offended. “I thought I made your life amazing. Like, top-tier, VIP-section amazing.” You’re about to launch into a whole speech, but your brain hiccups, lost somewhere in a thought that doesn’t quite finish. You grin at her instead, and she just shakes her head, amused.

She grins, and it’s that cheeky, self-assured grin that makes you both melt and want to argue. “That too”

It’s at this moment, this little pause, that you get an idea. It’s not necessarily a good idea, but it’s there, persistent, because your tequila-fuelled brain won’t let it go. “If you were a sandwich,” you say seriously, “you’d be the kind with all the best fillings. Like, avocado and caramelised onions and, like, artisanal cheese. And I’d eat you every day and never get bored”

She laughs, that infectious, melodic sound, and you feel a swell of pride that you can make her laugh like that, even in your current state. Her eyes soften, that look of adoration flickering there, just for you, and she reaches up to brush a strand of hair off your face. Her fingers are warm, soft, and your eyes flutter closed for a moment as they linger on your cheek.

“Come on, let’s get you some water,” she murmurs, her voice gentle as she takes your hand in hers, and there’s a comfort in that touch, in the way her fingers intertwine with yours.

As she guides you through the crowd, you find yourself staring at her hand in yours, marvelling at how naturally it fits, how perfect it feels, as though it’s always meant to be there. The thought makes you feel almost childlike in its simplicity, but you hold onto it.

“You’re the best, you know that?” you say as Aitana threads you through a crowd that’s moving with the sludgy, undulating rhythm of a creature with too many limbs. Faces pass by in flashes of laughing mouths and narrowed eyes, pupils blown wide by God knows what, maybe tequila, maybe… more. None of them matter, though. They’re simply the backdrop to this little tableau: you, lit up and fizzing, tethered to the only person in the world who’d think to take your hand and lead you to salvation (water) instead of just letting you unravel on the sticky floor of someone’s overpriced house.

She looks at you like you’re amusing, like she’s doing you this great favour by holding your hand in public. “I know,” she says, her mouth quirking in that way that makes your chest feel both hollow and unbearably full.

And then you stop—there’s an odd elegance to it, almost like a dance, because she half-turns, looking back at you as if she knew this was coming. Like she’s been expecting you to stop her and do something wild, something foolish. The patience in her eyes, well, it almost feels like she’s giving you permission to make an idiot of yourself. Again.

“I want to kiss you,” you announce, dead serious, as if declaring something truly revolutionary.

“We’re in the middle of a strangers house.” She says this lightly, but she’s already leaning in, her chin tilting, the light catching in her hair just so, like it’s the climax of some impossibly chic music video.

You want to tell her that kissing her here, now, with people everywhere and the taste of cheap tequila in your mouth, is the single most important thing in the world. That nothing in this moment matters, except her—your Aitana, who has somehow, against all reason and logic, decided to love you back.

So, when she presses her mouth to yours, soft, barely-there, like you’re made of fine china, you think you might just melt into the floor. The crowd around you recedes; they fade away, just shadows in the periphery, and it’s as if you and Aitana are standing in a bubble, suspended in time. You’re floating, really, an ethereal, drunk ghost of yourself. She’s kissed you like this a thousand times, but right now, it feels so outrageously perfect that you think, absurdly, that maybe you don’t deserve it. Like you’ve somehow won this cosmic lottery.

When she pulls back, you’re vaguely aware that your mouth is still open, probably looking ridiculous, but she’s smiling at you, all fondness and amusement, as if to say, “Yes, you’re a total disaster, but you’re my disaster.” It’s a little terrifying, if you think about it too long.

“See? This is why you’re the best,” you mumble, clutching her a little tighter, almost swaying in place.

She tilts her head, giving you this look that’s so completely Aitana, so fully her, it borders on cliché. “You’re a mess,” she says, but her eyes are bright, shimmering with something almost mischievous.

You shrug, proud, defiant. “I’m your mess”

“Yes,” she agrees, not even trying to hide her smile, “you are”

And with that, she’s tugging you along, moving with a fluidity that makes you wonder, briefly, if she’s choreographed this entire evening just for you. You’re half-convinced she’s orchestrated the entire universe to align with this moment—the sounds of people talking too loud, the stickiness of the floor, the faint scent of stale beer and expensive perfume all melding into a cocktail that feels uniquely yours. Aitana, your perfect Aitana, leading you through this mire like she’s guiding you through a rainforest or a canyon, somewhere treacherous and fraught with danger.

You stumble into what you desperately hope is the kitchen, but honestly, it could just as easily be a poorly-lit hallway or an oddly-configured living room. Someone has drawn a Sharpie mustache on a framed photo of a golden retriever; the countertop is littered with crumpled napkins and red Solo cups, each one bearing the lipstick marks of strangers.

“I’m gonna drink, like, four litres of water,” you declare, full of bravado, as she hands you a slightly dented plastic cup that smells faintly of gin.

“Good idea,” she replies, crossing her arms and watching you with that expression she gets sometimes, like she’s trying to contain her fondness, keep it manageable, as if loving you too much would somehow be irresponsible. Like her heart could actually explode if she indulged herself too much.

You take a sip, but you’re not really tasting the water. No, you’re watching her, the way she brushes a loose strand of hair out of her face with her pinky, the way her eyes are this exact shade of dark that you’ve spent hours trying to name in your head. Like burnt caramel, maybe, or wet soil. It’s frustratingly poetic, the way she looks at you, like she knows every ridiculous thing you’ve ever thought and loves you for it anyway.

“Aitana,” you say, fully serious, as if you’re about to impart some life-altering wisdom. “You’re my favourite person ever”

“I know,” she replies, but there’s something so gentle in her voice that you’re pretty sure she means it as much as you do. She reaches out, smoothing a stray hair behind your ear, a little gesture, the kind that’s both tender and practical, reminding you of the time she told you to cut your nails because you scratched her during a tickling fit. Practical, pragmatic Aitana, the girl who brings you plasters when you’ve tripped up the stairs and curses in Catalan when she stubs her toe but tries to blame the wall for it.

“No, but like…you don’t understand,” you say, stumbling over your words, the alcohol making you louder and sloppier than you’d like. You lean in closer, conspiratorially, like you’re about to reveal some great cosmic secret. “I’m so in love with you. It’s, like, a problem”

She laughs softly, the sound low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. She pulls you into her arms, your head pressing against her shoulder, and you breathe her in, that familiar scent that’s all her—floral and a little musky, layered with the faintest hint of some expensive perfume you’ve never bothered to learn the name of.

“It’s not a problem,” she murmurs, smoothing a hand down your back. “It’s perfect”

And it is. Perfect, that is. You’re here, tangled up in her, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic, messy cloud of tequila and love, and it’s perfect in this fragile, unsteady way. You’re her mess, her drunken mess, and there’s something so intensely beautiful about it, you think you might actually cry.

“I’m never letting you go,” you mumble, your words muffled against her shirt, which is soft and smells like laundry detergent.

“Good,” she replies, holding you a little tighter, as if she means it more than anything. “Because I’m not going anywhere”

[casdeans-pie]

--- "Angel Erogenous Zones" ---

The middle of an Angel's neck, where their Grace can be extracted from - wouldn't that be a vulnerable, sensitive spot?

--------

It hadn’t been Dean's intention to be kissing Cas against his bedroom door, but as soon as it had slammed shut behind them that’s where they’d ended up.

There had been a desperate mix of gripping and pulling to draw each other in – and then suddenly they were on each other. Dean had both his fists full of trench coat, while Cas's hands had started on his shirt collar and slid up to the back of his head.

Dean had a fuzzy, vague realisation (his blood had far more interesting places to go than his brain) that Cas could be completely immovable if he wanted to be, so the satisfying slam of his back against the door was something that he’d let happen.

God, wasn’t that something.

Dean groaned aloud at that thought and Cas made a high breathy sound in response, like being able to make the other feel good left them in a never ending feedback loop of pleasure.

Their angle changed slightly, their bodies one long tight line of heat, as Dean reluctantly pulled his lips away to desperately breathe some air before he passed out.

Cas tilted his head back, baring the column of his throat, as Dean tasted it with his lips and tongue, while he got his breathing back under control. But Cas flinched violently when his mouth touched the skin below his chin.

“Sorry,” Dean said, freezing immediately. Even he could hear how wrecked and rough he sounded. He pulled back and searched Cas’s face – was he making sure he was okay, or looking for signs of regret?

Dean couldn’t help it when he placed a gentle hand on Cas’s cheek and wiped a thumb gently under his eye. They were both shining brightly with an inner light that seemed to swirl through what Dean could see of his irises (though they were mostly dilated pupil). He wanted to feel smug at the effect he’d had, but concern at the flinch he’d definitely felt overrode everything else.

Cas shook his head slightly and let out a long, shaky breath. “No, I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t think I would react like that.”

“I- uh- I mean, I get it man, this is uh- kinda new territory for us and-” Dean tensed and went to move away, but Cas held him close.

“No, please... Please don’t think it was a reaction to this. To us. There’s a scar,” Cas explained, voice even lower than usual, “from when my Grace was removed and I became human. It never healed.”

Dean felt his whole body relax again in relief and he pressed in closer, just barely resisting the urge to kiss Cas again, to catch sight of the thin white scar straight across his throat. The lowlight of the bedroom caught the edge of the raised line, making it stand out slightly, and Dean felt a deep pang of sympathy. The hand he’d left still resting on Cas’s cheek slid down to his neck and touched the very edge of it carefully.

“Does it hurt?”

“N-No,” Cas said, his breathing speeding up as his eyes slid closed. Blue light escaped from between his eyelashes.

Dean blinked in surprise. Wait...

“Sensitive,” Cas added, “sensitive place for ah-angels.”

Oh.

Dean had slid a finger over the scar gently while Cas had been talking and now he understood his reaction before.

“Sensitive, huh,” Dean repeated.

The moment that his mouth touched the scar he heard Cas gasp.

He paused, giving Cas the opportunity to tell him to stop, but instead a hand returned to the back of his head and fingers dug deep into his short hair. Dean smiled, knowing Cas would be able to feel it, and added a gentle mouthing of teeth. Cas made a noise in the back of his throat that shot a bolt of want down Dean’s spine.

He bit down harder.

A hand slammed over Dean’s eyes that shielded him from a blindingly bright blue light bursting out into the room.

Dean laughed, his chest full of warmth, as he crushed their bodies even closer together to hide his face in Cas’s shoulder.

“Oh, Angel,” Dean whispered, as a tingling electricity accompanied the light and seemed to slide over and under his skin. He had the strangest thought that it felt like silky feathers.

The light finally faded and Cas thumped his head back against the door.

“So, turns out, angel erogenous zones are a thing,” Dean said, his voice rumbling deeply with affection and warmth.

“I’ll teach you mine if you teach me yours,” Cas said breathlessly.

“I can work with that.”

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter v

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 14k+

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, mean relatives, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, denial, self-deprecating in some areas etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, there is one scene depicting some physical violence (tame) , finally some fluff!, and I won't spoil any more

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: OMG....ignore the fact that this is releasing a month after ch. 4. 🫠 i'm sorry. On the bright side, I'm VERY excited to share this with you AND this actually isn’t the last chapter. There’s one more after! I hope you enjoy 🥰 ALSO, this is GP!Taehyung in this chapter (....😮‍💨)

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"This can't be right," you mutter to yourself for the umpteenth time, eyes heavily fixated on your laptop screen. You've been scrolling through the latest press releases all morning, a cup of tea growing cold beside you.

Ever since Jimin’s text last week, rumors about your ex-husband stepping down from his position at JeonX practically spread like wildfire, with nearly every journalist adding their individual spin on the matter—some suggest personal issues, while others hint at possible disagreements within the company.

Despite the influx of information, however, it all remains too vague and inconclusive. An official statement from the company directly would help clear up speculations, but it’s been crickets. Their silence only makes you consider the validity of the rumors even more.

Why would they make such a critical leadership change right after their newest product launch though?

This question, among others, continuously swirl in the back of your mind and you find the entire predicament ironic. You used to be one of the first to know the ins and outs of the company, easily able to distinguish the truth. Now, you're left in the dark like everyone else, dependent on the media for answers.

Before your eyes have time to skim the next group of articles on your screen, your phone rings.

It's Taehyung.

“Hey,” you answer casually, momentarily forgetting the significance of the call.

“Morning!” His voice is gravelly yet carries a cheerful tone. He seems quite upbeat for a foggy Saturday at 8 a.m. “Are you still okay to carpool to my parents' place today? Tan and I are on our way over.”

Dammit. Of course, this isn’t just any old Saturday—it’s the day of Taehyung’s family gathering. It had slipped your mind that you asked to ride together a few days prior. Given that it would be a five-hour long commute, driving separately seemed less convenient and enjoyable. Besides, you’d miss out on having Tan on your lap, his head poking out of the passenger-side window.

“Yeah, I’m good to go,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you feel. “I’ll be ready when you get here.”

“Great! See you soon.” Taehyung hangs up, and you put your phone down with a deep breath.

To be blunt, you're still extremely nervous about the affair. Surely his family knows who you are and has seen their fair share of articles about you. So how will they react when you show up next to Taehyung at their family function? He says they’ll like you, but it's hard to accept.

Nonetheless, you know how important this family gathering is to him and how much he wants you to be there. Not only is it a family event, but it’s also a celebration of his recovery from a motorcycle accident that could’ve been much worse.

As you pour your cold cup of tea down the sink, you try to push away the unsettling mix of thoughts, focusing instead on the next task at hand— how you should dress. Prior conversations with Taehyung advise you that something polished would be ideal for the occasion, as his family appreciates a touch of elegance, yet your mind blanks on a tangible option. Surely, there’s something in the back of your closet that would do the trick. Right?

Well…you’re right-ish.

Upon searching through rows of hangers, arms growing tired, you finally find a somewhat suitable sundress. You’re hoping it won’t look too casual, but you don’t seem to have a better alternative with your closet currently overtaken by work clothes.

Wasting no further time, you quickly slip the dress over your head and observe how it fits in the mirror. Not bad, you think, before deciding on a few complimentary jewelry pieces. The saving grace of this choice of clothing is that it can easily be dolled up, which is exactly what’s needed today.

Soon, you hear the muffling of an engine and when you peek through your bedroom window, you’re unsurprised to see Taehyung’s car pull into the driveway with a very excited Tan poking his head out from the backseat. A small smile forms on your lips at the sight.

Sparing one final look in the mirror, you slide into your shoes, toss your bag over a shoulder, and head outside to meet them.

“Hey!” Per usual, you're met with a warm smile as you hop into Taehyung's car but before you can return the greeting, Tan bounds onto your lap, tail wagging eagerly. “God, I’m so sorry about him,” Taehyung reaches for his dog, but you quickly reassure him it’s alright.

“I’m happy to see you too, Tan,” you laugh, petting him affectionately. Your focus then shifts over to Taehyung, "Thanks for coming to get me."

“Of course,” he replies, smile widening as he watches Tan settle into your lap. “I’m really glad you’re coming with me," he continues, pulling away from the curb. "My parents are looking forward to meeting you.”

You nod, trying to calm your fluttering nerves. “I’m looking forward to meeting them too.” This time, when you glance his way, you take in his attire—a crisp white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, and black dress pants. It’s a classic look, yet it seems oddly refreshing on him. It's not like you expected Taehyung to look bad or anything; far from it, but did he always have to look this good? A queasy feeling soon settles in the pit of your stomach...maybe you should have worn something else.

Before you're able to fully turn away from him, Taehyung speaks up. “You look really nice today,” he says softly, eyes lingering over your face and down your body before shyly refocusing on the road. “That dress is beautiful on you—it really suits you.”

“Oh, thank you,” you reply with a shy smile of your own, unexpectant of his comment. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Something about the subtle exchange of compliments stirs a bundle of nerves in both of you and even with averted eyes, neither of you finds it entirely unpleasant.

The rest of the drive is long, but luckily, soon fills with lighthearted conversation and laughter. It's become easier and easier to be around Taehyung, you think.

After more than a few bathroom breaks—mostly due to Tan’s persistent whining—you finally catch sight of Taehyung’s parent’s house.

It’s even more picturesque than you imagined, with its charming architecture and well-tended garden. In the distance, the ocean glimmers, tying the scene perfectly together.

“I meant to mention earlier, but my parents have an oceanfront view,” Taehyung says casually, pulling up to the house. “We can go down there later if you’d like. It’s private access.”

“Really?” You glance over at him with anticipation, your excitement clear. You can already taste the saltiness of the water. “If it’s really okay, I’d love that.”

“It’s more than okay,” he assures with a smile. “In fact, it’s a done deal. The best time to go is in the evening. We can even use the excuse that we need to take Tan for a little stroll if necessary. Family bonding can get a bit overwhelming without a few breaks.” He lets out a chuckle but stops when he notices your slightly demure expression.

“Hey,” he turns to you with gentle eyes. ��Everything okay?”

You blink, momentarily pulled from your thoughts. “Oh, yeah, sorry. I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve gone to any kind of family affair. They know I’m coming, right?”

Understanding your apprehension, Taehyung shifts the gear into park and places a light hand on your arm. “Absolutely, and please believe me when I say they’re more than ready and excited to meet you. They’ve asked about you so many times—I’m pretty sure I’ve lost count. I’m really happy you’re here with me too, so I hope you don’t feel like you’re intruding because I promise you’re not at all. And if at any point you need a moment to yourself, take it. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible, and I’m confident my family will want the same.”

With his hand on your arm, you find yourself wrapping yourself in the comfort of the gesture, nerves slowly easing in the process. “Thanks, Tae,” you reply, feeling a tad lighter than before.

“Are you ready?”

You nod, signaling him to remove his hand to take the key out of the ignition. As his hand leaves your arm however, you feel a subtle, unexpected shift—wishing the warmth of his touch could linger just a moment longer.

But hold up.

Since when did he affect you like this?

Dwelling on it further proves to be futile because before you can blink, the house’s front door swings wide open, revealing an older, petite woman with a kind and inviting smile. You both step out of the car immediately, Tan happily trotting around the yard confidently.

The woman pulls Taehyung into a big hug once close enough, and it’s all the evidence you need to deduce that she must be his mother.

“We were wondering where you were!” she starts. “Everyone’s here except you.” It’s a light scold, not that Taehyung minds from the giant grin spreading across his face.

“Forgive me, Mom. I guess we’re fashionably late,” he replies.

Mrs. Kim looks up and down her son with adoration, hands still gripping his arms. “Look at you,” she coos, as if proud. “My son is so handsome. I’m so happy to see you here, healthy and well.”

“Mom, this is __.”

Her eyes then shift to you, standing somewhat awkwardly beside them. If possible, her warm expression brightens even more, taking you by surprise.

“My goodness, I’m being so rude," she says, stepping toward you. "It’s wonderful to finally meet you, honey. Are you okay with hugs?”

“Sure.” You offer a sincere smile and embrace her. When you do, you feel a sense of peacefulness that you hadn’t ever before, soothing any lingering tension. You can’t help but assume that many of Taehyung’s qualities must come from her.

“I’m so pleased that my son brought you today,” she says, pulling back from the hug. She takes in your clothing as well. “You're absolutely lovely, my dear. Doesn't this color work wonderfully on her?” She glances at Taehyung, who merely nods in agreement.

“You’re the one who looks beautiful, Mrs. Kim,” you return the compliment, feeling a tad embarrassed by all the praise. “I love your earrings by the way. Are they jade?”

She nods, pleasantly. “Thank you for noticing. They’re indeed jade. My husband gifted them to me for our anniversary last year. I told him he didn’t need to get me anything, but that man is so persistent. Speaking of which, you should come inside and meet him.” She turns around at once and ushers you and Taehyung into the house. He allows you to go first.

As you follow Mrs. Kim up the steps, Tan bounds ahead excitedly. The aroma of delicious food fills the air the further you walk, and soon you’re greeted by a cozy, homey atmosphere.

Finally, you find Taehyung’s father in the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink. “Honey, Taehyung’s here and he brought __ with him.” Upon hearing your name, the man quickly dries his hands on a towel and extends a friendly hand your way, eyes twinkling.

“Hello, __! I’m glad you could come today. We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Likewise,” you reply, “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. It’s gorgeous in here.”

“Well, we have our son to thank.” He directs his attention to Taehyung, reaching out and patting his son on the back with a proud smile. “He bought this house for us after all. He’s a good son.”

What?

You glance at Taehyung in surprise, intrigued to learn more about this new bit of information. However, seemingly flustered by the comment, you decide it’s better to save it for another time. His mother is quick to step in.

“Taehyung, dear, why don’t you show __ around and introduce her to everyone?” she suggests smoothly. “They’re all in the living room. We’ll gather everyone to have lunch soon.”

Taehyung nods at the suggestion and begins leading you through the house, until you reach the living room at the end of the hall. The room is even larger than you anticipated upon entering, its high ceilings finished with a delicate glass chandelier. A grand piano sits in the far corner as well where a number of children huddle together, each taking turns playing a few notes.

One by one, Taehyung starts introducing you to his relatives and despite your initial apprehension, each person you meet greets you with nothing but warmth and kindness. Not even a single person shows discomfort towards you or makes a dig into your personal life (though you’re certain they’re well aware of who you are). It’s no wonder Taehyung boasts about his family so often—they truly are a close-knit and respectable group of people.

At least, that’s what you think until Taehyung asks, “Where's Auntie and Uncle? I haven’t seen them yet.”

One of Taehyung’s cousins looks a bit hesitant before replying, “Oh, Tae, I’m sorry, but we haven’t heard anything from them so they might not be coming today. Maybe they had last-minute plans. It’s a bit of a shame, really.”

An odd silence settles over the room at this, conversations lower in volume, and a few knowing glances are exchanged among relatives. The abrupt shift seems to throw a wrench into your previous statement of closeness since, evidently, the absence of Taehyung’s aunt and uncle casts a dark shadow over the cheerful gathering.

Sensing an awkward lull, Taehyung tries to lighten the mood with a bright smile. “Well, I’m sure we’ll still have a great time. I’m just happy to see everyone here.” He gently redirects the conversation to something more upbeat, attempting to remedy the unusual tension.

Just then, a small figure bursts into the room, capturing everyone’s attention.

A little girl, no more than six or seven years old, runs straight toward Taehyung with arms outstretched. “Taetae!” she shouts, using the affectionate nickname as she latches herself around his legs.

Taehyung's face breaks into possibly the happiest grin you’ve seen in response as he kneels to lift her up effortlessly, holding her close as she giggles. “Hey, sweetheart! I missed you!” His voice is filled with affection, though there’s a hint of shock as well.

Eagerly, the little girl secures her arms around his neck. “I missed you too! Mommy and Daddy said we might not be able to come, but here we are!”

“Well, I'm so glad! Have you been a good girl for your parents?” he asks with a playful tone.

The little girl nods vigorously. “Yes! I’ve been helping Mommy with so much lately.”

“Good job!” Taehyung says, giving her a high five.

You’re unsure exactly how the two relate, but the longer you watch the interaction unfold, the more evident it becomes that Taehyung’s a natural at connecting with children. His playful demeanor and patience make it clear that he has a special way with them. It’s heartwarming to see, quite honestly.

“Taetae, who’s she?” the little girl asks suddenly, her big, curious eyes setting on you.

Taehyung smiles and gestures for you to come closer. “This is __. She’s my friend.” He looks at you and adds, “This is my little cousin Eun-ha. We’re quite close.”

“Hi, Eun-ha,” you greet with a soft smile. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

She doesn’t return your greeting, but rather leans into Taehyung’s ear and whispers something you can’t quite hear.

Taehyung chuckles softly, though it does little to conceal your curiosity. “No, Eun-ha,” he says, shaking his head. “We don’t kiss like in my movies. But yes, she's very pretty.”

Though you wish otherwise, your surprise is barely hidden as you process the revelation.

“Why not?” Eun-ha asks, puzzled. “You kiss lots of pretty people in the movies.”

Flustered, Taehyung clears his throat. “Who’s letting you watch my shows? You’re a little young for those I think.”

“She likes to watch them when she can’t see you,” a new voice interjects.

Following the voice, you see two adults entering the room– Taehyung’s aunt and uncle. Their expressions are clearly stiff and somewhat distant, a stark contrast to the warmth of the rest of the family.

“Well, I guess it’s okay then,” Taehyung responds, maintaining his usual beaming smile. “Auntie, Uncle, it’s good to see you.”

His aunt and uncle offer polite but somewhat curt greetings.

“Glad to see you’re alright, Taehyung,” his aunt says, her tone lacking warmth.

“Hello,” his uncle adds, his expression neutral. “I see you’ve brought a guest.” He nods toward you.

“Yes, this is __,” Taehyung introduces you, “She’s a friend of mine and a colleague as well.”

The pair glance at you briefly, their eyes betraying a lack of interest.

“Nice to meet you,” his aunt says, though the thickness in her tone suggests otherwise.

“Likewise,” you respond, trying to match their formality with a friendly smile.

“You know, when I heard my nephew was bringing a guest, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect,” she continues, though the implication is unclear.

“I’m sorry?” you ask, trying to grasp her meaning.

“My apologies. I work as an editor for a journalism outlet, so I’ve come across your name before,” she explains. “It’s always interesting to see people in person after reading about them. I can’t say I ever imagined having the opportunity today.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep your composure. “I hope the coverage has been accurate.” You know they haven’t been, aside from a couple of progressive news outlets. Based on her rigid stare, you don’t think she belongs to either of them.

“They’re accurate most of the time,” she replies, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Although, there are always…different perspectives on such matters.”

You offer a polite, tight-lipped smile in response. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, however, your hands unconsciously clench into fists at your sides, indicating your bubbling discomfort.

“Well, I’m sure those articles are just one side of the coin,” Taehyung chimes in, attempting to smooth over the conversation. “I’m of the mindset that you really don’t know a person until you spend time with them. And I can assure you, those overpriced tabloids have it all wrong.” He shoots you a reassuring look.

In the midst of it all, Taehyung’s father steps into the room, oblivious to the tension. “Alright everyone, it’s time to eat!” he announces, his voice carrying a cheerful note. “Let’s gather around now.”

Neither you nor Taehyung’s aunt speak another word to each other as you follow his father into the dining room. You take a deep breath along the way, an attempt to steady yourself.

As lunch begins, Taehyung’s father stands at the head of the table, a broad smile on his face as he raises a glass.

“We want to thank everyone for being here today to celebrate Taehyung’s recovery,” he begins, his voice filled with heartfelt sincerity. “We’re grateful for this family and for the love and support that has carried us through. To Taehyung!”

“To Taehyung!” everyone echoes, lifting their glasses in a unified cheer.

From then on, the meal progresses smoothly, with conversation gradually returning to pleasant topics. Dishes are passed around, and laughter helps lighten the mood. Taehyung’s parents share stories of their journey together, their voices rich with wisdom and nostalgia. As you listen, you get a glimpse of the morals that have shaped their family. It’s so different from your own upbringing, and you feel honored to be a part of it today.

Yet it's still difficult to ignore the lingering heaviness in your chest from your earlier interaction with Taehyung’s aunt. Even now, her sour expression is directed your way, though she seems to withhold her remarks, perhaps due to Mr. and Mrs. Kim’s presence.

Don’t take this personally, you repeat in your head. There’s likely some underlying history or traditional views being projected onto you. This isn’t really about you…don't take it personally.

Midway through the meal, Taehyung’s mother intrigues everyone by pulling out a collection of old photographs. She begins sharing the backstories of various childhood photos of Taehyung, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy and amusement as she recounts each memory. Taehyung, visibly flustered, tries to hide his blush as his family teases him.

“Oh, look at this one!” his mother exclaims, holding up a particularly old photo of a much younger Taehyung with a hilariously exaggerated hairstyle. “He was so determined to be a rock star!”

The room bursts into laughter, and Taehyung grins sheepishly, his cheeks rosy. “Is this really necessary? I mean __’s here…”

“Come on, Tae, it’s cute!” you say with a smile, giving his arm a playful shove. As you do, Taehyung’s aunt’s eyes widen slightly. Her gaze shifts sharply between you two, and a flicker of disapproval crosses her face. You stop your playfulness upon first notice, finding it hard to ignore.

“It’s embarrassing,” Taehyung retorts, unaware of his aunt’s reaction.

“Oh hush,” his mother replies with a warm smile. “Let a mother indulge in the memories of her children. You’re all grown up now, and with your busy schedule, I hardly see you anymore.”

“Alright, fair point,” Taehyung concedes. “Carry on.”

When the meal winds down, Taehyung’s aunt clears her throat and speaks up. “Is everyone ready for dessert? I’ve baked a homemade cake,” she announces, tone carrying a hint of forced cheerfulness. Turning to you, she adds, “Would you mind assisting me in the kitchen, __? I could use an extra hand.”

Taehyung immediately offers to help, but his aunt insists on speaking with you alone, masking it as an opportunity to get to know you better.

Once you’re in the kitchen and away from prying eyes and ears, Taehyung’s aunt’s demeanor shifts abruptly. She returns to her previous blunt and unreserved nature. “I need to be honest with you,” she begins, her voice low and steely. “I don’t think you should be here.”

Her words sting, yet a part of you can’t help but wonder if there’s some merit to them.

“I know this is a family event, and I’m sorry if it seems like I’m intruding. Taehyung invited me.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she dismisses, venom lacing her tone. “I mean, you shouldn’t be here with Taehyung.”

“I’m not sure what you’re referring to—”

“Oh please, don’t pretend I don’t have eyes, Ms. __,” she interjects sharply. The use of your formal name sends a chill down your spine. “You may be friends now, but I can see there’s more going on beneath the surface. Unlike the rest of my family, I won’t just stand by and let it happen. So, if you think you can charm your way into my nephew’s life just like you did with that ex-husband of yours, then you’re mistaken. I won’t allow you to ruin his life.”

Ruin his life? You ruined Jungkook’s life and now you are about to ruin Taehyung’s? Confused and hurt, you finally realize the root of the matter–she's convinced you’re a gold digger.

You’re stunned by the accusation, struggling to find words as she continues. “There’s nothing you can say to change my mind either. Even if the articles aren’t exactly true, you still have a past, and Taehyung deserves better—someone without all these complications. Don’t you agree? Maybe if you hadn’t been married before and were ten years younger, things might be different. But honestly? A woman your age should already have a family of her own.”

Silence falls heavily in the kitchen after her final words, the only sound being your labored breaths. Your throat goes dry and your hands clammy as some of your deepest insecurities take root, striking right at your core.

It’s true—you’re 30 years old, divorced, and without children. It’s a stark contrast to your peers.

You’d always imagined your life turning out differently, but here you are, alone and without any kind of companionship. You weren’t expecting to be reminded of it all today.

“I think you’ve made yourself clear about how you feel,” a voice speaks up, and you think it’s yours, until you realize it’s much too deep.

Taehyung’s aunt looks momentarily stunned to see her nephew standing in the doorway, his expression a mixture of shock and anger. But she quickly regains her composure. “Taehyung, I was just—”

“Please don’t,” he interrupts, voice firm. “If I had known you were going to be this cruel towards someone I deeply care about, then I’m sorry I invited you.”

He steps closer, his gaze unwavering. “You have no right to judge someone you don’t know based on rumors and assumptions.”

His aunt’s face softens, though her disapproval remains. “I’m only looking out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t need you to protect me from my own choices,” Taehyung replies, his voice calmer. “I’ve made my own decisions, and __ is a part of that. If you can’t respect that, then maybe you should reconsider how you approach these situations.”

Taehyung’s aunt stands silent for a moment, her gaze shifting between Taehyung and you. She seems to weigh his words before finally nodding and turning back towards the dining room, her displeasure still evident.

Taehyung turns to you, his face etched with worry. “Are you alright?”

You hesitate, unable to give a clear response. “I… I think I need some air,” you finally say.

“Maybe it’s time we take that walk down to the beach,” he suggests gently. “What do you think? Of course, if you’d prefer to go solo, that’s completely your call too. I’ll understand either way.”

You nod, appreciating the idea. “I’d like you to come with me.”

“Let me grab Tan and we can head down,” Taehyung says with a reassuring smile.

The sound of the waves grows louder as you approach the ocean, providing a soothing backdrop to your racing thoughts. It's even more beautiful up close, you think, observing how the sun reflects off the water.

As you walk along the shore, Tan runs ahead, chasing the waves and barking playfully. The sight of him brings a small smile to your face, easing some of the heaviness in your chest.

Taehyung walks beside you, his presence peaceful, though neither of you are quick to speak.

Finally, after a few minutes pass, he breaks the silence.

“I’m really sorry about what happened back there," he says quietly. "My aunt's always had more traditional perspectives, but I didn’t know how rigid they’d gotten. Regardless of how she might've made you feel, I want you to know that you’re very important to me and I couldn't care less about what the public says. The rest of my family seems to love you too so far."

You take a deep breath, the salty air filling your lungs. “It’s not your fault, Taehyung. But thank you.” You pause, your face visibly conflicted. “To be honest, I’ve heard variations of it before from other people. I just didn’t expect her to be so… direct.”

He nods, turning to you with sincerity. “I know it was hurtful, and even though I didn’t hear everything she said, you didn’t deserve it. It's not true, either.”

You manage a small, tight-lipped smile, but it hardly matches how you feel inside. “Well,” you begin, continuing your walk, “some of it's true, I think.” Taehyung looks at you with concern, though you struggle to hold his gaze.

“Wanna sit?” he suggests lightly, gesturing to a spot on the beach with a clear view of the waves ahead. "Tan'll be fine to roam around on his own."

You nod slowly in reply, a gentle breeze caressing your face and feathering against your legs as you move.

Once you reach the area, you tuck the skirt of your dress beneath your thighs and take a seat on the soft sand. Taehyung sits down beside you.

“So,” he starts again, his eyes never leaving your face, “what’s true?"

You take a moment, watching the waves crash against the shore before forming a response. “It’s just…” Your voice falters as you search for the right words. “I’m 30 years old. The natural course for someone my age is to have a family, a couple of kids, and of course, be married. Or at the very least, have a reliable romantic partner.”

“Instead,” you take a short breath, “it feels like I’m living in a completely different reality from everyone else. Divorced from a big shot CEO, without children, and painted as some kind of spinster or gold digger for the media to exploit. Being a woman, there's really no in-between which makes it that much harder to overcome."

Upon finishing your thought, an unmistakable nervousness bubbles up within you. Had you just overshared? Were you too honest? Although unsettled, everything in you hopes that you didn't just overstep your boundaries with Taehyung, as the two of you hadn't had this deep of a conversation before. You find yourself holding your breath as he replies.

"To have all that unnecessary pressure placed on you is unfair,” he says quietly. “I can’t imagine how tough it must be to feel disregarded and reduced to so little. I'm so sorry, __. I'm sorry that we gets so fixated on image and what’s deemed proper that we often forget the real meaning behind things. I know it might be hard to believe, but there’s more to your story than what others see or say. More than even you might think, too."

As if inevitable, your vision goes misty and a tear spills down your cheek upon hearing his words, though you're quick to wipe it away. It's not that the words themselves are monumental, but rather, they confirm the closeness of your relationship. Few people have ever understood or cared to understand you, so you had stopped expecting it altogether, especially after your divorce. Yet somehow, Taehyung always surprises you, being one of the few who truly does.

Feeling a bit more comfortable, you admit, "I know it's probably an overstatement, but I can't help but feel like I'm alone in ways that are hard to escape. Some days I just don't know what to do with it all. Does that make sense?"

“Sweetheart,” Taehyung says softly, taking the hand you used to wipe your tears and lacing his fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch sends a comforting spark through you. He’s never called you that before, and it feels unexpectedly intimate—almost domestic, if you didn’t know better.

“It makes complete sense, especially given what you've gone through and still are. You don’t ever have to feel alone anymore though,” he continues. “I’m here for you. You have Jimin and Namjoon too. And the three of us? We’ll always have your back.”

Your eyes soften as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with such warmth and innocence, yet he hasn’t fully grasped the weight of your words.

“I appreciate it,” you say gratefully. “It’s not all one-dimensional, though. When I say I feel alone, I mean relationally as well because, given my age and marital status, it's unlikely I'll find any real companionship. I’m just considered ‘used goods' after all.”

“Used goods? Who the hell said you're used?” Taehyung’s voice rises, not in anger but in genuine offense. Amid his reaction, his hand slips from yours.

“Our entire society?” you retort, raising your voice before lowering it again, realizing he means well. You pull your legs up to your chin and hug them. “I’m divorced, Tae. I’m no beauty queen. Just used goods, as I said.”

You both stare out into the distance, falling into a brief silence.

“Well, I for one think you’re very gorgeous,” he says softly, still gazing ahead. “So please, don’t call yourself used. You’re definitely not.”

“Tae—”

“Do you wish you were still married?” he interjects gently, eyes returning to yours, searching for the truth. He wants to add, To Jungkook? but keeps it to himself, not deeming it his business.

You take a moment to process his question before responding.

“Some days I do,” you admit. “Not just with anyone, though. I’ve already learned my lesson the hard way. Jimin tried setting me up with a few of his coworkers a while back, but I declined. They’re so far away that I doubt anything would work out. Plus, not to be harsh but who in their right mind would risk it with me anyway?”

“I mean...I would,” he replies almost immediately, insistence in his voice. There's no trace of bluff at all and for a moment, your heart feels like it's doing about a hundred somersaults in your chest. Taehyung's seriousness makes it seem like he means it in a deeper way, but it can't be—he’s merely speaking figuratively because of your closeness.

“Of course you would,” you reply, grabbing his hand again and smiling gratefully. “Because you love me, right?”

You pose the question playfully, feeling your mood lift slightly, but Taehyung’s expression turns stunned, like a deer caught in headlights.

“I do,” he finally murmurs, deep and meaningful, a soft glimmer in his eyes. “I really do.”

"Hu-" you choke on your words, still trying to process his. You never finish, though, as Taehyung suddenly moves to stand up, a newfound cheekiness taking precedence over his face.

“Come on,” he says, “on a warm day like this, we should find a way to enjoy ourselves. Dance with me.”

“What?” you ask, though to be honest, you're not surprised by his spontaneity. “Dancing is a no, Tae. You know I have zero rhythm.”

He doesn’t reply to your argument but instead draws his phone from his pocket, tapping around until light jazz music starts playing. He turns up the volume as loud as he can before placing it on the ground beside you.

“What are you doing?” you watch as he begins swaying his body from side to side, snapping his fingers when the beat feels right.

“I’m dancing by myself since you refuse to get up.”

You laugh, “I happen to like it this way. You can be my source of entertainment.” You adjust yourself so your legs are stretched out in front of you, feet crossed as you lean back on your arms.

He chuckles and continues dancing in small circles. You feel a little guilty the longer you watch. But then...

“__,” he calls your name, low and raspy. He steps over towards you and leans down until he's face to face with you. You like the way the sun glows down on his face, and the thought crosses your mind—he looks incredibly handsome. “__,” he calls your name again, and you realize you've been staring a little too long.

“Sorry,” you reply. “Sun’s making me dazed.”

He gives his usual boxy smile, and damn, why are you feeling so affected by him today? It’s not usually this much.

“Will you please dance with me? I don’t mind dancing by myself, but I prefer a partner.” He pouts and you know you’re done for.

“I’m not going to be good though,” you reply, reluctantly rising from your comfortable seated position. Taehyung pulls you into his hold the moment you’re on your feet. It's a little rougher than he meant, and your bodies accidentally collide in the process.

“Shit, my bad,” he says, taking a small step back.

“It’s fine," you assure, doing the same but not before catching a whiff of his cologne. You can't quite place the scent, but it’s nice...really, really nice.

As the music continues to play, you both sway gently to the rhythm. Taehyung’s touch is warm and steady as he guides you through each simple step. You feel a strange sense of comfort and safety in his arms, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away.

“I didn’t realize you were such a good dancer,” you start. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

He spins you gently, and you let out a surprised laugh, the sound mingling with the soft notes of the jazz music. “I had to take ballroom dancing lessons for a role I played years ago,” he replies smoothly, “but I enjoyed it, so I kept it up.” When you come back to him, he holds you a little tighter, and the closeness feels more intimate and special than you anticipated.

“You’re doing great, by the way,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Even with barely any practice."

“All thanks to you,” you reply, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I guess it’s kinda fun.”

“See? Not so bad,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You glance towards the ocean, feeling a rush of spontaneity yourself. “The water looks so inviting. We should go in.”

He quirks a brow, taking in both of your more formal attire. “Dressed like this?” he asks.

You don’t answer. Instead, you slide out of his hold and run towards the water, laughing and splashing him once he’s close enough behind you.

“Hey! This was expensive!” he shouts, but there's no threat in his voice, only amusement.

“Well, you shouldn’t have worn it around me then!” you tease, splashing him again.

Now nearly drenched, Taehyung huffs and bends down to scoop water into his palm. “You’re gonna get it…” You back away quickly, but he follows after you. “Come here, I have a very special gift for you __,” he says mischievously, water spilling from his hand as he chases you.

You both end up playing in the water for the next ten minutes, splashing and laughing until you find yourself regaining confidence. At some point, Taehyung unexpectedly tackles you from behind, his arms wrapping so tightly around your waist that no amount of movement would free you.

You find yourselves too lost in amusement to notice your closeness until small droplets of water begin falling from above.

"Was that rain?" You stop all movement, but his grip doesn’t loosen. "Tae?" You call his name when it seems he doesn’t register your question, twisting your head over your shoulder to peer at him.

“Oh…um, sorry,” he finally stammers, a faint blush rising to his cheeks as he realizes the tight hold he has on you. His body flushes against your back.

“No, it’s okay…” you struggle to conceal a blush of your own, the warmth of his embrace a little overpowering. "So, I think we should head back. I'm pretty sure it's raining."

He nods and slowly unwraps his arms from around you. "I agree, but where's Tan?" His eyes frantically scan around the beach. "Tan!" he calls, and soon, two fluffy, slightly damp ears pop out from behind a rock.

"Aww," you exclaim, bending down to pick up the little dog when he trots over. "Look at him. We neglected the baby."

Taehyung snorts at your remark. "He'll be okay. It barely started."

You pretend to cover Tan's ears and shoot Taehyung a faux alarmed expression. "He can hear you, you know."

Taehyung chuckles and gently cups Tan’s face while he nestles in your arms, planting a soft kiss on the top of his head. “Sorry, buddy,” he says with a grin. As he looks up, he catches a prolonged gaze in your eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What? You want one too?”

“Oh, uhm, no,” you laugh, a bit nervously, shaking your head. “It’s just nice to see you so endearing.” You think back to how Taehyung had interacted so sweetly with his younger cousin, Eun-ha, earlier. It’s a side of him you're finding increasingly appealing.

Taehyung's gaze softens as he replies, “I like to take care of those I love.”

Love, you repeat quietly to yourself. It sounds so different when he says it.

You smile and, side by side, head back to the house.

The faint drizzle of rain quickly turns into a downpour, with a flash of lightning illuminating the sky and thunder rumbling in the distance. Despite the potential inconvenience, Taehyung’s parents insist that it would be better for both of you to wait until morning to drive back.

"It isn't safe," his mom advises, fluffing a pillow in the guest bedroom. "The two of you can stay here for the night. I’d offer the living room sofa too, but some of your cousins are staying over as well."

"Thanks, Mom," Taehyung replies, and when she leaves the room he casts a brief glance your way. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“What? No, you can sleep in the bed with Tan." You pause, eyes scanning the room for an alternative spot. “This chair looks pretty comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket and make do.”

"Okay no, I’m not letting you sleep on that old, dusty chair and risk waking up with a giant kink in your neck.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips, his tone firm. “Why don’t we just sleep in the bed together? For some inexplicable reason, my parents chose to put a California King in here so there should be plenty of room. I’ll even sleep on top of the covers.”

“No, it's fine. Tan needs his space."

“Sweetheart." There it is again, that same petname from earlier. Why do you not seem to hate it? "Tan is so tiny he’ll literally curl between us," he argues, though it does little to convince you.

“Tae, I told you it’s—”

“Alright, I’ll take the chair then-” Taehyung starts to move toward it, but stubbornly, you block his path. There's no way he's sleeping on a chair when you're the guest here.

“You will do no such thing!" Naturally, you place your hands on your hips. “This is your home—well, your parent's home and I won't be subjecting you to sleep on something that small. Seriously Tae, I'd fit much better on it than you would given our height differences.”

A small, frustrated sigh escapes him as he counters, “I'd really rather you be comfortable, especially in an unfamiliar environment. So can we please stop arguing about this? It’s really unnecessary. Either I take the chair or we both find a way to share the bed. You can’t tell me you and Jimin never shared a bed before, and he’s your friend too!"

“Yes, but that’s different,” you insist. “Jimin and I have been friends for years! There’s a strong trust built between us.”

“What do you mean by that? You don’t trust me?” His face mirrors that of a sad, puppy-dog.

“Tae, it’s not that at all,” you say softly, trying to sound reassuring. “I do trust you. It’s just… I guess I just meant that Jimin and I have a long history together. We’ve grown very comfortable with each other in ways you and I haven’t yet.”

Taehyung’s brows furrow in concern. “What are you really worried about, __?”

You shrug, feeling a bit flustered. “Nothing…”

Your mind immediately drifts back to the beach—how he listened, held your hand gently, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and what it felt like to be held so close under the rain. Everything felt so genuine, warm, and openly vulnerable.

You share similar feelings with Jimin, but they have limits as you are definitely only friends… best friends, to be precise. With Taehyung, you figured it would be the same; however, after today, you're realizing more and more how unsure you are of where the limits are (or where you want them to be), and it startles you.

But it’s not this alone that fuels your apprehension tonight— there’s something else.

“You know I won’t do anything right?” Taehyung asks, his voice earnest. “I sleep with five pillows!”

You raise an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Five? What the hell, Tae? Are you a princess?”

“Yes,” Taehyung says, more nonchalantly than expected, “but stop deflecting. It sounds weird and a bit kinky, but why won’t you sleep in the bed with me?”

Should you tell him?

Your expression grows serious as you explain, “Because it can be very intimate,” you murmur softly. “Maybe I'm overthinking it all, but the last time I shared a bed with someone it...uhm...it was…”

“...with your ex-husband,” Taehyung finishes for you, his tone gentle with understanding. His eyes soften as he looks at you.

“Yes…” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s silly, but I haven’t done it in a long time. Even Jimin and I haven’t shared a bed in years.”

“I’m sorry…” Taehyung says, his voice filled with genuine regret.

“Tae, you don’t have to be sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s my own issue. I’ll just sleep on the chair, alright? It’s only one night.”

“Not happening, you’ll take the bed with Tan.”

“Seriously,” you start to protest, but he’s already moving toward the foot of the bed with determination in his eyes. He grabs the blanket from the end and rushes over to the chair with haste. You run after him, pulling at his arm, and both of you end up laughing, the tension gradually breaking.

“It's been a very long day and I'm quite tired, __. How about turning off the lights, please?” He spreads out the blanket and settles into the chair with a satisfied sigh. Then, there’s a loud creak followed by a distinct cracking sound.

“Fuck—” Taehyung swears as the chair suddenly collapses under his weight. He rises from his seat, grimacing at the broken chair. “I knew it was old, but damn, I didn’t think it was that old.”

“Shit, please tell me this wasn't a family heirloom or something.”

“Uh… I don’t think so?” Taehyung scratches his head, looking sheepish. “I’ll let my mom know in the morning. It’ll be fine, okay? No worries. But, um, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.” Taehyung then grabs a couple pillows and a blanket and starts forming a makeshift bed on the floor. While you watch him, your heart softens despite your exhaustion.

“Alright, enough,” you sigh, exasperated. “If we keep this up, we’ll just be going in circles all night. Let’s just share the bed, Tae. It’s not worth you being uncomfortable.”

Taehyung looks up, concern written over his face. “Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable either. I’m happy to—”

“I’m sure,” you cut him off, doing your best not to overthink it. “You're the one who'll be driving for five hours tomorrow anyway, so let’s just get some decent rest. It's okay, really.”

After a good long pause, you both end up climbing into the bed, each taking your own side as Tan curls himself at the foot of the bed. Taehyung reaches over to turn off the light, but despite the calmness of the room, you find yourself unable to sleep right away. You’re unaware he feels similarly until he unexpectedly breaks the silence.

“Are you warm enough?” he asks quietly. “We have more blankets if you need them.”

You turn slightly toward him. “I’m okay for now, but thanks for checking.”

He gives a soft, reassuring smile. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Tae.” You roll back onto your side and close your eyes. “You too.”

As the night deepens, the storm outside continues its relentless drumming against the windows. At some point, Taehyung jolts awake to a faint but unmistakable sound.

He blinks groggily at first, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the curtains. Then he notices your restless movements and hears you murmuring softly in your sleep, a note of distress in your voice.

"__?" he asks quietly, still half-asleep. "Are you okay?"

When you don’t respond, he shifts closer, concerned by the unease on your face. Seeing your share of the blankets has slipped off, he gently tugs them back over you, making sure they cover you comfortably.

Amid the movement, a muddled groan escapes your lips—something between a whimper and a sigh, "Mmm… no…"

It doesn't take a genius to figure out you must be having a nightmare of some sort. “It’s just a dream,” he whispers soothingly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “You’re safe here with me.”

He gently takes your slightly trembling hand and holds it gently in his. “I’m right here, __,” he sighs softly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

Taehyung isn’t sure how much time passes before your restlessness stops, but he stays awake, hand clutching yours until it does. Eventually, assuming you’ve finally entered a more peaceful sleep, he releases your hand and rolls onto his side.

What he doesn't expect is for you to unconsciously follow him over, your body snuggling against his back. The warmth of your body against his is comforting, but he knows he can't let you stay there and risk any awkwardness in the morning. So with the utmost care, he rolls over to face you and gently adjusts your body until you're lying comfortably on your back again.

"I hope you'll be able to sleep better now," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the storm. "Goodnight."

Following the reunion, you and Taehyung part ways with mutual thank-yous and promises to see each other soon.

Time seems to vanish afterward as you find yourself increasingly buried under an endless pile of work projects. Apparently, over the weekend, a notable investor reached out to your company with hopes of setting up a meeting.

Namjoon is nearly tripping over his words when he relays the message to you.

"Can you believe it?" Your secretary stands within a foot from your desk, excitement evident in his voice. "They want to meet with us! This could be huge for our company."

You share his enthusiasm but your need to remain holistic in the matter tempers your ability to feel overly zealous. Meetings with investors always carry significant opportunities; however, there's no guarantee a deal will be struck. Truthfully, it depends on a number of factors, their level of interest outweighing them all.

Plus, every meeting requires extensive preparation—late nights where you tirelessly hunch over your computer, perfecting every detail of the pitch and this one promises to be no different.

"Did they happen to mention a time or date for further discussion?" you ask, matter-of-factly. Namjoon nods, pulling out his phone.

"Yes, they suggested next Wednesday at 10 AM.”

You weigh the proposal in your mind. “That should give us enough time to get everything in order, then,” you conclude. “Please put it in our calendar and let them know we’ll be ready to meet on that day.”

From then on, the remainder of your week unfolds exactly as you anticipate—relentless preparation, long nights, and meticulous planning until the small of your back aches for relief. One might say it's an exaggeration, but the only breaks you can afford are for primal necessities like eating, sleeping, and using the bathroom.

Even your weekend is spent within the walls of your home office, a far cry from previous weekends when you used to visit the book café or meet up with Taehyung.

Speaking of which, you haven’t really gotten to see each other since his family gathering and though it was only a week ago, the lack of his presence leaves you feeling a bit disheartened. He replied to your text yesterday, but even so, it was brief—something about a new project or talk show interview was keeping him busy as well.

By the time Wednesday arrives, your neck is so riddled with the stress of the upcoming investor meeting that you can barely focus on your proposal notes. Everything in you hopes that the investors will be impressed enough to partner with you, but thinking about it does nothing except heighten your nervousness.

In search of some kind of solace, your mind wanders to Taehyung instead. The memory of the small dance you shared with him on the beach is once again vivid, as if it happened just moments ago—the soft sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves, and the way his gentle hands gripped around your waist.

But why does this memory, out of all the possibilities, feel so soothing?

You've been struggling to come to a plausible conclusion since the day it happened, yet deep down, you know it’s not as trivial as it seems. You miss it, your subconscious hums, you miss him.

Just then, Namjoon pokes his head into your office, signaling that the investors have arrived in the conference room. You send a curt nod in reply and gather your notes, refocusing your mind on the task at hand; everything else will have to wait.

Turns out, you might have been a bit too pessimistic about the investor meeting. They’re surprisingly pleased with your plans and proposals, nodding along to each of your points. However, their request for a day or two to reach a final decision catches you a tad off guard.

Rather than grapple with the uncertainty though, you decide to mentally prepare for whatever comes next... starting by decompressing at the bar downtown, a glass of their strongest alcohol in hand.

At first, finding a seat proves to be a challenge as you navigate through a sea of sweaty bodies. But luck, seemingly on your side, provides you with an empty chair at the far end of the bar. While you sit and order your drink, you can't help but wonder what Taehyung might be doing tonight. Should you text him to see if he’d join you, even if only for fifteen minutes?

Slipping your phone from the side pocket of your bag, you curse silently at your apparent haste. Your subconscious was right—you really have missed him, damn.

All at once, your thoughts are put to an abrupt stop when you take a quick glance around the bar, your gaze unprepared to land on two familiar silhouettes at the opposite end—Namjoon, with Taehyung next to him, drinks in hand. You don’t know how you failed to notice them before. They’re laughing, clearly enjoying each other’s company, and for a moment, your face lifts into a smile.

But that smile quickly fades when you catch sight of two women sauntering over to join them. Your initial joy is swiftly replaced by a sharp sting of jealousy and you chastise yourself for the feeling. Who are you to react this way? Taehyung can do whatever he wants—why should you care who he’s out with?

Forcing yourself to shake off the feeling, you take a sip of your drink, but your gaze keeps drifting back to the group. It’s obvious that the taller of the two women, arguably as stunning as Taehyung, is laser-focused on him, her hand brushing his arm lightly as she laughs at whatever joke he’s just told. Probably a dumb one, you think bitterly; it's obvious she's not just there for the humor and booze. It's strange to witness, as you've only known Taehyung to allow a few, select women to touch him so openly—his mother, his onscreen cast members, and you.

Okay __, stop, you scold yourself. This is a bad idea; you’re getting too involved for your own good. Hastily, you finish your drink and head out of the bar, the cool night air brushing against your skin. If Taehyung goes home with her, it’s none of your business.

You're barely a few feet outside the bar's door when you hear commotion echo from a nearby alley. Alarmed, you whip towards the noise, your eyes widening in disbelief. There, in the dim light, you see your ex-husband doubled over, clutching his stomach, while a shadowy figure stands in front of him, fist clenched.

You’re not sure where the courage comes from, but within seconds, you're springing to action, racing towards the scene with a surge of adrenaline. “Hey!” you shout as loudly as you can. The attacker glances back, frazzled, then bolts into the night, leaving Jungkook hunched against the alley wall.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask frantically, rushing to his side and helping him to his feet. He flinches away from your touch initially, his face a mix of panic and agony. “It’s me, Jungkook. It's __. Can you hear me? It’s okay, I’m here,” you reassure him the best you can, hoping to ease him.

Jungkook takes a few shaky breaths, body still weak as he struggles to hold himself up against the wall. His eyes are glazed, and he seems disoriented. “I… I didn’t expect you,” he mutters, his voice strained.

Offering him an arm, you help him steady himself. “Let’s get you out of here, okay?” He nods weakly, and as you guide him towards the parking lot and into the light, you ask, "What happened back there? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?"

Jungkook sighs, wincing slightly. “No, it’s... I’m fine. He was just a kid—no more than 21. Angry, probably a little drunk, and accused me of being the reason his father got fired. At first, I was confused, but then I vaguely recognized him as being one of our employee’s sons. Pretty sure it was my dad who fired his—I was probably just an easier target."

You both fall into a contemplative silence as you continue walking. Of course Jungkook's father, the chairman of the company, would be behind this, you think. Previous times spent with him had shown you how ruthless he could be when it came to the "well-being" of his company. Whoever the kid was, he probably had a right to be angry, but physically taking it out on Jungkook wasn’t justifiable by any means.

“You sure you don’t need a doctor?” you ask, glancing at him with concern.

He shakes his head dismissively, "Don't worry about me," he replies. "A couple of punches to the gut won't kill me. I think it's about time I head home though."

You nod in agreement. “Where did you park?”

He points to a spot on the far left side of the parking lot, and you nearly groan at the sight. “Did you have to bring your bike tonight?” you ask, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

Jungkook gives a weak smile, understanding the inconvenience of the situation. “Thought I’d ride it in case I needed to get somewhere fast,” he replies, his voice strained but with a touch of humor.

"Come on," you say, walking him toward your car instead. "We might not be married anymore, but there’s no way in hell I'm letting you ride your bike home in this condition. You can pick it up tomorrow."

Jungkook chuckles weakly. “Damn, and to think we were about to ride it together for old times’ sake. You used to be pretty good with my motorcycle back when you were my girlfriend, __." You roll your eyes, patience thinning. If this is another one of his sexual advances, you’re long over it.

"Yeah, well, that was before Taehyung’s accident scared me half to death," you retort. "And for the record, I was never your girlfriend. We went from work partners straight to I do." You open the passenger door and help him into the seat, giving him a gentle shove. "Now sit tight and no more motorcycle talk."

Jungkook leans back and raises an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Well, what are we gonna talk about then? It’s a twenty-minute drive to my place.”

You slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, giving him the go-ahead to enter his address into your car’s GPS. “Are you really whining already?”

As Jungkook taps away on the GPS, you’re suddenly reminded of a series of past car trips you shared with him. It’s almost like déjà vu.

“Seriously, __,” he starts, allowing his playful demeanor to fade. “Thank you for doing this for me. I know we… well, we aren’t exactly on the best terms.”

From the corner of your eye, you observe the way he aimlessly stares out the window, unsure whether to meet your gaze.

"We may not be in the best place, but that doesn’t mean I’d just leave you there," you sigh, gripping the steering wheel tighter. A long pause follows afterward until the question that's been gnawing at you finally slips from your lips. "How's everything with the company?"

Seemingly unfazed, as if he’d been anticipating the question, Jungkook replies, “I’m guessing you’ve heard the rumors.”

“Hard not to,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road.

He takes a deep breath before continuing, "Well, it's um... it's a sabbatical. I know it's probably a shock, right? My father isn’t too thrilled about it, so he’s delayed the official announcement until we reach a final consensus. But things have been... complicated. Our newest product launched recently, and it’s doing well, but now I think I need some time for myself. To take a step back.”

Well, shit.

Even with all the rumors, you never would have guessed in a million years that the truth of the matter was an impending sabbatical. Jungkook has always been the type to work himself until his hands bleed, so this is the last reason you expected to hear.

“I’m glad to hear you’re finally letting yourself have a break, but honestly, it doesn’t sound like you at all. Feel free not to share, but what do you mean by ‘complicated’?” The way he frames it sounds almost ominous.

“You really want to know?” He finally glances at you for the first time since getting into the car, his eyes carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“Only if you want to share,” you reply cautiously.

He looks down at his hands, gathering his thoughts. “So, remember when we last saw each other a few months back? Well, I’ve been reflecting a lot on our relationship since then. I know I wasn’t fair to you, __, and I really wish I could take it all back. You never deserved any of it. I was incredibly selfish and I’m truly sorry.”

You remain silent, thrown off by how quickly everything circles back to your fragile past together. Still, you allow him to speak.

"Before we parted ways, you suggested I see a professional, and… I thought I'd finally take your advice for once. It’s strange because I’d never gone before, but…”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “I’m starting to understand a lot about myself—why I react the way I do and how I handle things. It’s been tough, but I’m trying. I guess I’m taking this sabbatical because I need to figure myself out, away from work, so I can be better and stop hurting people around me."

For the first time in a long time, as you listen to your ex-husband, you realize he's beginning to sound genuinely mature. If it's true that he's been seeing a therapist and taking a sabbatical to prioritize his well-being, then you're extremely proud of him.

Yet, a small part of you remains stubborn, wishing he had made these changes earlier—imagine where you might be now if he had.

“Thank you for being open enough to share this with me," you respond slowly, careful not to misspeak. "Though I’m still a little surprised, I have to say I’m really proud of you for seeking help. I’ve been seeing someone as well, and it took me some time to settle in too, but I suppose that’s part of the healing process—being uncomfortable to an extent. We’ve had our share of challenges with one another, but despite everything, I’ll always wish the best for you, Jungkook—including your health and mental well-being.”

As you pull into the driveway of his house, parking the car near the front door, Jungkook takes a deep breath and turns to you, visibly affected. "It means a lot that you'd say that, __," he starts hesitantly, hands fidgeting in his lap. "I know I've made a lot of mistakes, and I understand if you can't forgive me completely. But I want you to know that I am sorry. I wasn’t fair to you and I'm not proud of my behavior at all."

You nod in response, a small, tight-lipped smile forming. His remorse for the past is finally sincere, yet even now, as he looks at you with those hopeful eyes—the same ones you carried for months on end—you know he's searching for more than just your forgiveness.

But this time, you don’t think you can offer him more than that.

Because while you grew fond of him during your marriage, you've come to realize how unearned and misplaced that affection was. He broke your heart not once, but twice. And although you can never hate him, deep down, you can't ignore the lingering sting you feel when you're around him.

It's both sobering and eye-opening.

So, rather than reversing into old emotions, you simply say, "I believe you, Jungkook, and I think with time I'll be able to forgive you. If there’s ever a time when you’re in dire need of help, like tonight, I’ll do my best to be there. I’m afraid that’s as far as we can go, though."

It’s written all over his face that it’s not what he was hoping to hear, but respectfully, he doesn’t press further.

"I understand," he says, fingers reaching to for the passenger door handle. "Thank you again for being there for me tonight, and for driving me home. Please feel free to reach out if you ever need me as well. I hope for the best for you too, however and with whoever you choose."

The two of you exchange a brief look of gratitude before he finally pulls the door open and steps out of the car, making his way to his front door.

"Have a good night, and rest up," you call out to him. He smiles, gives a wave, and heads inside.

As you slowly back out of the driveway, you sigh, leaving only one person ruminating in your mind: Taehyung.

Then, inevitably, images of the stunning woman at the bar with him intrude your thoughts, stirring a deep, unsettling emotion within you.

Does it really matter that much who he's out with?

Are you really that jealous about it?

Mentally, you go back and forth as if plucking petals from a large sunflower… Yes. No. Yes. No. Until—Silence.

You can't seem to give a straight answer. It's like the closer you and Taehyung grow, the more undefinable and knotted your feelings become. Yet, the further apart you are, the more unnatural it feels...

Well, your indecisiveness doesn’t get any better by Friday because, finally, after what feels like an eternity, you and Taehyung have plans.

You’re heading out for dinner at a restaurant of his choosing tonight, as he insisted you go somewhere new. Where could it be? You have no clue, and while surprises aren’t usually your thing, his enthusiasm when you confirmed plans earlier has left you intrigued. There’s also this faint, inexplicably giddy feeling in your stomach that won’t go away, coinciding with a slight nervousness.

With such a seemingly important occasion, you find yourself in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting from side to side in what’s probably the fifth outfit you’ve tried on. But nothing seems to fit quite right. You’re feeling especially frustrated to be frank, as something that usually takes you twenty minutes is turning into a whole hour.

You end up tossing one final dress over your head—a bit more elegant for the occasion, but it’s one of the few items you own that accentuates your body down to the last detail. The dress hugs around your waist and falls just above your knees, its rich color perfectly complementing your skin tone. But isn’t it a little revealing? The neckline dips down further than you remember.

Crap—the alarm on your phone suddenly chimes, reminding you that Taehyung's arriving in ten minutes. You're running out of time.

"You’re being ridiculous. It’ll be fine,” you reassure yourself, smoothing down the skirt of the dress. “You're just friends. He won’t care.”

“Friends” stings more than you anticipated, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a deflated feeling in your chest.

Nevertheless, you give yourself one last look in the mirror, apply a quick swipe of lipstick, and head downstairs. Just as you finish slipping on your shoes and grabbing your purse from the coat rack, the doorbell rings, causing your heart to leap from your chest.

Deciding to rip it off like a band-aid, you toss open the door, and there he is—standing on your doorstep with his signature boxy grin and gently tousled raven hair. Taehyung's dressed in a tailored blazer and matching slacks over a crisp white t-shirt, and you find yourself at a complete loss for words as if you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around him.

Maybe it’s something in the air, but he appears equally stunned, looking you up and down with wide eyes. His gaze soon softens into admiration as he takes in your entire appearance. “Wow,” he chokes, clearly impressed. “You look amazing.”

You feel a rush of warmth at his compliment and muster all your strength to keep from looking away flustered. “Thank you,” your voice wavers slightly. “You look pretty great yourself.”

Tongue in cheek, he replies with a playful smirk, “I was hoping you’d say that,” which prompts you to lightly punch him in the arm.

“Don't be arrogant.”

He chuckles, rubbing his arm with a grin. “Shall we head out?”

You nod and step outside, locking the door behind you.

The drive to the restaurant is a brief one, and you're immediately struck by the charm of its exterior when you arrive—stone walls, covered with vines of ivy and warm glowing lanterns. Inside is even more beautiful, with wooden shelves lined with old books and bottles of fine wine wrapping around the room. You're starting to understand why Taehyung was so insistent on bringing you here; the place perfectly reflects his taste and, unexpectedly, yours as well.

One of the hosts leads you to a deep mahogany table after confirming your reservation. The closer you get to it, the more you notice the crisp white linens and small tealight candles that sit on top, setting a romantic scene. If you had to describe the feeling, it would be as though you’ve been transported straight to a quaint corner of France.

"So, what do you think?” Seated across from you, Taehyung looks at you with bated breath. His fingers fidget with the edge of the table, nervously anticipating your verdict.

“Honestly? It’s so charming,” you reply, glancing around in awe. “I didn’t even realize we had a place like this around.”

At this, his demeanor relaxes, and a pleased smile spreads across his face. “It’s a bit hidden, but once I found it, it quickly became one of my favorite spots.” He pauses, then adds, “This is actually the same restaurant I wanted to take you to months ago, before my accident.”

“What? You’re serious?” you blink in shock as the realization slowly sinks in. You take another look around the restaurant—the rows of books, the bottles of wine, the elegant dining atmosphere—and suddenly, it all makes sense. How did you miss it before? “I’m sorry we didn’t come sooner,” you say softly, regretful of having turned down his offer before.

“It’s okay,” Taehyung's quick to reassure you, reaching out to lightly touch your hand. “What matters is that we’re here now. And honestly, I’m just happy to finally share it with you.” He gives you a warm smile, and immediately, you feel a small lump form in the back of your throat.

“Thank you for bringing us here tonight,” you say, “It’s wonderful, and I’m really glad we could make it up.”

“Of course,” he replies, “I thought it was a place we’d both enjoy.”

Everything about his responses seems to carry a heightened level of endearment and attentiveness, as if there’s more hidden beneath them.

Perhaps selfishly, you also sense there’s something uniquely special about this night—something you believe only exists between the two of you. So, when Taehyung retracts his hand, you feel a fleeting instinct to reach out and grasp it again, but you stop yourself short.

What are you thinking? This isn’t a date.

Needing a distraction, you grab the menu and start scanning the options.

Taehyung sees the way your gaze drifts and tilts his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Everything alright?” he asks gently.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” you reply, trying to sound casual. “I'm just getting pretty hungry with all the food I smell.”

He chuckles, "Same here," then picks up a menu of his own.

The two of you sit in silence for the next few minutes, fixated on the food and wine list. You find yourself stealing glances at him from time to time, and unbeknownst to you, he does the same.

After the waiter takes your orders, Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin on his palm. “How’s everything at work been? I’ve been meaning to ask.”

Your face lights up at this. “Highs and lows," you reply, voice brightening, "but we got some exciting news today. I met with a potential investor earlier this week, and they’ve agreed to partner with the company. It’s a big win for us!”

Sharing your enthusiasm, Taehyung raises his wine glass, implicating you to follow suit. “This calls for a toast,” he says. “I know it must have meant long nights for you, but I’m so glad they recognized the value of you and your work. Seriously, __, you should be incredibly proud of this!"

You clink your glass with his, a light chuckle escaping you. There's something uniquely satisfying about sharing even the smallest things with him.

The conversation flows more comfortably from there, with Taehyung eagerly asking about the details of your new partnership. You reciprocate by asking about his current work projects, and soon, you both get lost in discussion, naturally causing your conversation to grow increasingly spontaneous. By the time your food arrives, the two of you must have easily covered fifty topics.

With the evening gradually becoming one of the most enjoyable you’ve had, the initial butterflies you felt at the start almost fade away... almost. That is, until you near the end of the meal and Taehyung looks at you with a seriousness in his eyes.

“I’m really glad we could do this tonight," he says, "We’ve both been so caught up with work lately that we haven’t had much time to spend together… I’ve missed it."

"Missed..." The simple six-letter word echoes in the back of your mind in a hushed murmur. It feels nice knowing you aren’t the only one affected by the recent distance.

“Me too,” you reply, more breathy than intended. Before you can fully process your words, you find yourself adding, “I’ve missed you a lot myself.”

A flush of embarrassment twists in your stomach the moment the words leave your mouth. You shouldn’t have said it like that—it almost sounded like… pining? God, you can’t even blame it on the alcohol at this point; you barely had one full glass of wine. Contrary to what you'd expect, Taehyung looks at you with a hint of shyness.

“You know,” he begins, briefly eyeing your dress, “you really do look great tonight. I’ve been a bit worried these past couple of weeks, seeing how much you work and how little sleep you get. But now… I'm relieved to see you looking so well.”

You blush. If only he saw you before tonight—greasy hair, bloodshot eyes, and oversized sweats on, you think. Evidently, tonight was an exception.

"I guess I've been worried about you too if I’m being honest,” you admit, shifting slightly in your seat. "The last time we saw each other was at your family reunion. It feels like it was ages ago for some odd reason."

“I know what you mean,” he says softly, gaze lingering on yours a moment longer than usual. “It’s strange going so long without seeing each other. It feels…unnatural.”

All at once, you pause, unsure if you heard right. Did Taehyung really say "unnatural"? It’s exactly how you’ve felt about the distance this entire time, but you hadn’t expected him to feel the same. Your mind struggles to process the sheer coincidence and its possible implications—was there something more to your relationship than you had realized?

While you try to make sense of it all, Taehyung’s raspy voice pulls you back to the present. “Well, uh, we should probably head out,” he suggests lightly, breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, though it does little to deter you from your thoughts.

You find yourself fidgeting with the hem of your dress the entire drive back, occasionally glancing at Taehyung in silence. His hands grip the steering wheel tightly, eyes focused on the road, yet you could’ve sworn his mouth parted at one point as if he was about to say something. But then, he held back. You wonder what he might’ve wanted to say, but you’re no better—hesitant to breathe a word yourself.

Why are neither of you speaking all of a sudden? It feels tense and unfamiliar.

In what feels like a blink of an eye, you're standing at your front door again, Taehyung close beside you. The space between you feels smaller this time, with unspoken words still lingering, but it’s clear that despite having your keys in hand, neither of you are ready to part ways just yet.

“__?” He speaks first, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” You respond, turning to face him fully.

Taehyung takes a deep breath when you do, his usual warmth replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression. “There- there's something that’s been on my mind,” he begins, voice trembling slightly. “I've been going back and forth tonight on whether or not to tell you."

“Okay, what is it?” you ask, pulse quickening.

“It’s about us..." He hesitates, gnawing on his bottom lip slightly before continuing. "Earlier tonight, when I said I've missed being able to see you, I wasn’t lying. If anything, it was likely an understatement because, no matter how busy I was, I kept thinking about you—our time at my parents' place, and how you always came to visit me when I was in the hospital."

He pauses, his fist clenching nervously.

"I’ve realized since then that maybe the reason why is because somehow…you've always been more than a friend to me,” he confesses softly.

Searching your face for a reaction, Taehyung mistakes your blank expression for discomfort. Little does he know, however, that your stillness is merely due to shock, as every nerve in your body threatens to awaken. It feels surreal, you think. Sure, you had a small inkling that tonight felt different and Taehyung was sweeter than usual, but eighty percent of you chalked it up as nothing more than overthinking or projection.

Now, you realize how short-sighted you’ve been, convincing yourself that you could only ever be friends and denying the rest when it's been quite the opposite.

“I’m sorry," he adds sheepishly. "It must be a lot to take in. I don’t want to lose you or our friendship, but with my feelings growing, I think I’ll always want more. I thought it would be better for you to know.”

You see the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks, and though he patiently waits for your response, you’re unsure where to start. It’s not that you question Taehyung’s genuineness or intentions, or that you don’t reciprocate his feelings—you haven’t shared such a deep connection with someone in a long time, if ever.

Rather, it’s the years of a mostly apathetic marriage that leave you feeling wary.

What would a relationship with Taehyung be like?

Would you truly love each other?

For how long?

What startles you most is the possibility that if you and Taehyung really do this and it doesn’t work out, you’ll be left even more devastated than before.

When you finally speak, your voice wavers slightly. “To tell you the truth, a big part of me is relieved that you told me all of this,” you admit slowly, your hands clammy. “I thought I sensed a shift between us at your parents' and again this evening. But I also thought I was reading too much into things, convinced it was just us getting closer as friends do."

"I guess what I’m trying to say is that I was wrong because I've been wanting more with you too," you continue. "It's like the further away we are, the worse I seem to feel, and I can't help but wonder what it would look like if we were more than friends. The thought scares me as much as it excites me, though…for reasons I'm sure you already know."

You're uneasy about how he'll react until, all at once, his eyes fill with warmth and his hands gently reach for yours, thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the backs.

“Do you remember when we were at the beach and you asked who’d risk it for you?” Taehyung asks. You nod, recalling the exact moment. “You also asked if I loved you, and I agreed to both that day. I didn’t realize how much those words would come full circle, but I meant it then, and I mean it now. I will love you, __, in the way you've always meant to be. I'm pretty sure I'm at least halfway in love with you already, and not just because we're friends."

Wordless, you stand facing each other, your hands still held in his, eyes steady in the brisk night air. His gaze then drifts from your eyes to your lips and back again. The movement is subtle, but in that brief moment, you let your eyes fall to his lips as well.

Taehyung’s waiting for your answer, but you can’t stop thinking of what would happen if you just…

Adrenaline takes over from there, and before you fully process it, you’re leaning in to close the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The sudden touch catches Taehyung off guard, but he quickly responds with gentle, tender kisses. A soft smile tugs at his lips as he deepens the embrace, one hand finding its way to your face while the other rests on your back, pulling you closer.

Sooner than you realize, he begins deepening the kiss as well, eliciting small, breathy moans. At this point, you can feel the tent forming in his trousers, but he makes no move to grind into you yet. Rather, the hands that grip around you tighten, not enough to hurt, but enough that your body pushes further against his firmer chest. You suspect your back will meet the hard surface of your front door within the next three seconds, allowing your entire neighborhood a show, but before then, you're interrupted by a subtle stirring in the pit of your stomach.

"Wait, I'm sorry-" you suddenly break the kiss, a rush of nerves returning. It’s been a long time since you’ve shared such meaningful kisses with someone, and the intensity of it has you feeling overwhelmed. "I'm so sorry," you repeat.

When Taehyung sees you aren’t backing away but rather standing completely still, he settles his hands around your waist, gently drawing you further into a soft embrace. "You don't need to apologize," he assures. "I'm the one who took it further than I should've when I want this to be comfortable for both of us.”

You take a small breath, "You didn't do anything wrong, Tae, I'm just a little nervous due the newness of everything. I think I’d be best if we wait before going any further tonight….but I’m also not ready for you to leave yet. Is there any way you could maybe come in for a bit? To lounge?”

Taehyung nods, “I completely understand wanting to wait. The last thing I want to do is rush anything.” Concerned about possibly pressuring you, he adds, "Are you sure about me coming in though? It's getting late and I don't want to keep you up."

"Please," you murmur, "just for a little while, if you can.”

“Okay," he agrees, thumbs brushing lightly against your sides, "I can stay."

a/n: ajdfhg, TYSM for reading!! Love you all 🥰

Tags:

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Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[keij0h]

⌗ COME RIGHT BACK ┆ jeonghan

After a tiring session of working, your boyfriend is more than willing to ease you down, in a very certain way.

CAUTION : profanities. smut warning. afab reader. oral f receiving. self indulgent.

tap to listen !

02:14

Your eyes threatened to shut as you glanced at the time, blowing a sigh before slumping deeper into your chair. The silence was sickening, along with the pile of paperwork placed shabbily on your table that hadn't been untouched since the last few hours.

A small thud sound echoed as you laid your head down the table surface, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Delays aren't really your thing, hence the desiring need to finish everything in one go. Though with your drowsy state, that seemed like the toughest thing to do, considering you put yourself in this whole loop anyway.

Though perhaps you were a bit too weary to even hear the door behind you creaking open. A shiver ran up your spine as you suddenly felt your shoulders being grabbed gently, making you perk up at the sudden warmth.

“Hannie?” you groggily called out, barely making out the familiar figure of your boyfriend behind you through half lidded eyes.

“Yeah, lovey?” he hummed with a vague smile, swiftly turning your swivel chair around to face him as he kneeled down, gently placing both his hands on your face to get a good look at your exhausted state.

He examined you with so much intent, his lashes subtly fluttering as he shifted from your eyes to your lips, leaning in to place a quick peck on them. “You can't sleep here, you'll hurt your back.”

A tired smile crept up your mouth, fighting the urge to yawn. “I have to finish this though. Just go to bed without me, I'll be done soon.”

“You know I can't sleep without you,” Jeonghan argued, nuzzling his cheek against yours. “Missed you.”

It wasn't all the time where you'd see him be this desperate, though you also kept in mind that he wasn't one to hold back with what he wanted. And besides, there was no way he was letting the love of his love spend the whole night slouched on the table.

“I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway,” you breathed out a chuckle, letting your fingers fondle around his hair as he littered soft kisses in your jaw.

“Then I'll give you company..” he mumbled through your neck, not missing the way his voice lowered deftly as you exhaled — a slight idea on where this could be going.

“Baby, I'm tired─”

“Which gives me enough reason to take care of you.” he interrupts, lifting his head to face you again, his hooded eyes showing that hint of lust as you nipped on your lip.

“Please, baby?” he pleaded softly, running a hand through your exposed thighs, his thumb playing with the fabric of your shorts. “You trust me, right?”

“With my whole life.” you added firmly, nodding in emphasization. The sides of Jeonghan’s mouth tugging into a smile, taking it as a clear answer to get started.

“Just relax, alright?” he mumbled while placing a kiss on your temple, gently pushing you back to let you lean further in your seat as he remained in his kneeling position. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You softly flinched as you felt his hand slightly lift your thigh, leaning down to place chaste kisses on the soft flesh as he reached up to pull down on your silk shorts until it reached the heel of your foot, letting it fall on the floor.

Your breath heaved in anticipation, watching as he busied himself between your legs, taking his delicate time on placing open-mouth kisses in your inner thighs, the heat on your core intensifying.

Your hand found its way on the top of his head, biting back a mewl as the pad of his fingers caressed your clothed; damp pussy, gently dragging in circles, making you squirm under his touch.

“Han..” you sigh out, an amused glint present in Jeonghan’s eyes as he swirled his fingers around, his free hand tugging down on the material of your panties, pulling it off in one go.

“Always so pretty for me.” he coos, taking in the sight of your glistening cunt. You sucked in a breath as you felt his thumb drag over your folds, tenderly spreading it with his ring and middle finger before leaning down to run his tongue right in the middle.

“Shit.” you whined, subconsciously grinding your hips up for more friction, Jeonghan’s grip getting firm to steady you as his tongue pushed a bit further in you. “Oh— fuck, yes..”

He hummed against your cunt, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of a similar shaky sensation in you. You watched through half lidded eyes as he lapped you up. He looked so pretty. Your legs were over his shoulders while his eyes were closed, leaving his mouth agape and tongue out, the sloppy; wet sounds adding more to the lasciviousness of the sight.

“S-so good.” you managed to stutter out, his wet muscle flicking against your clit, forcefully pushing his head down, your lewd juices now starting to drip down to his chin. “More, baby, please..”

All the tense agony you had earlier had now seemingly disappeared, now replaced with a feeling of bliss as all you could muster are soft moans and whines of his name.

“I.. y-you’re gonna─”

“Mhm? ‘m gonna make you cum?” he panted, rubbing his fingers rapidly over your bundle of nerves as you cried out, his hot breath making you perk up. “Right on my face, lovey.”

“Oh, god—”

Your eyes rolled back in delight, simultaneously pulling on the strands of Jeonghan’s hair, earning a groan from him. “Just like that.. ah, fuck.”

You could barely hear the small babbles you gave, finding it hard to even open your eyes as his tongue did wonders, making you feel so full despite clenching at nothing. He indeed kept his word, he’d make you feel so good.

“Han— shit, ‘m so close.” you practically begged, almost suffocating him between your thighs as you got closer and closer to your release.

Another hum emitted from him, that being your last straw as he picked up the pace of his tongue, shuddering as you moaned out, the knot on your stomach faltering while you released right on his mouth. With the amount of pleasure, you barely noticed Jeonghan lapping everything up, leaving nothing but the glistening sight of your swollen clit.

“God, I love you..” you breathlessly say, almost incoherently as you throw your head back, earning a soft chuckle from Jeonghan. He stood up from his kneeling position, wiping the excess liquids on his chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you, wasting no time in pressing a deep kiss over your lips.

It was all the truth though. You love him, and this whole image taking place was a great explanation on why. He can be a little shit at times, but honestly, he’d do everything for the sake of your pleasure. And you were in no place to complain.

“Baby,” you pull away, laughing. “I can literally taste myself.”

Meanwhile, a smirk went up to his face, not missing the way he bit his bottom lip — that was still a bit swollen from all the meddling he did.

“Uhuh?” he hummed, kissing the corner of your lips. “Heavenly, right?”

a/n : I’m feeling major homesickness rn so I just needed the excuse to write the comfort I need as of now 👊🏻 hope this does the same to whoever’s reading. <3

and apparently, I’ve reached 1k+ likes?? that’s insane and thank you thank you thank YOUUU to everyone who helped me gain that. 😽

[the-secret-keeper]

Twisted Wonderland Dorm Leaders ( - Kalim and Vil) X Reader

Not requested, just inspired. I was thinking about the diet that Vil put the characters on at the VDC/SDC, and I was wondering what it would be like if the reader couldn't eat what Vil had directed them to eat, so they go to the other dorm leaders to beg for food. Maybe because of an allergy, maybe because of a sensory issue, or a different health issue, it's not specified.

This could be read as Platonic or Romantic. GN Reader

Malleus' scenario is when you invite him to the VDC/SDC but with a little more added on to fit the scenario.

TWs: Mentions of hunger/starvation, mentions of not eating, and mentions of tampering with food.

Minor angst

You were so hungry. You had already tried hiding food from Vil, and not even anything that was unhealthy, just something that wasn't within his diet regulations. But he had found it, and you had gotten scolded. You wanted to eat with everyone else, but you just couldn't, and it seemed like Vil hadn't noticed. Some of the others had, but for your own sake hadn't questioned it, not wanting to make you talk about it if you were uncomfortable.

You had nowhere else to turn, so you turned to them. As embarrassed as you were, you put your pride to the side in an attempt to get some scraps of food.

Riddle Rosehearts

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, incredulously. "You want food?"

"Not much! I swear!" You quickly defended. "Even just a small portion, I promise, I'm not trying to eat you out of house and home. I just," You sighed, tired and out of energy, "I can't eat."

"You can't?"

"What Vil is making me try to eat, I can't eat it. And I am starving, Riddle." You begged him. "I will do anything, for just a little bit of food. I'll clean, I'll help cook it, I'll help Ace and Deuce study, I'll do chores for however long you want. Just, please, Riddle."

In an act of desperation, you got down on your knees in front of his desk where he had previously been doing homework. You clasped your hands together, your last shred of dignity flying out the window as tears pricked your eyes.

Here you were, literally begging on your knees in front of your friend for food. You felt guilty, but you also knew that you could trust Riddle. And it's not as if you were just asking for food and leaving, you were offering a trade for the food.

"I am literally begging you. Please, Riddle." He got up and rounded the desk.

"Get up, you don't need to beg." He gently scolded, helping you to your feet. "Come on, let's get you some food from the kitchen. We can't give you enough food for the rest of the week, but we can at least offer you a meal for now, and invite you to dinner at least a few more times this week."

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Riddle. You're a life saver." You beamed, wiping away a few of the tears that had trailed down from your eyes. You would hug him, but he's not really used to physical affection, and didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"This is just doing the bare minimum. You're my friend, and if the person who is supposed to be taking care of you isn't, then I shall help you in any way you can." He nodded to his own words.

"You really are the best." You smiled at him, and he turned a little red.

"Come on. Let's go talk to Trey about getting you something to eat." He led you out of his office, and towards the kitchen.

Leona Kingscholar

"Shishishi." Ruggie laughed as he left you at Leona's door. "Good luck."

You probably would've gotten better results if you had asked Ruggie out right, and you acknowledge this as you stand in front of Leona's bedroom door. But, you decided to be vague, only stating that you needed a favor from Leona, rather than being up front. But you've made your bed, now you must lie in it. You mustered up the little courage you had, tossing your pride out, and knocked on Leona's door.

There was no response, which wasn't really unusual. You'd gotten closer with Leona lately, but it was still pretty normal for you to find him sleeping at all hours of the day, or for him to doze off while you were with him. You entered anyway, deciding to just rip of the bandage before you lost your nerve.

"Leona." You called once the door was closed behind you. "I need to talk with you."

"Whaddya want herbivore?" Leona asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I need a favor."

"Again? After the Octavinelle incident, I thought you'd never want to ask me anything ever again."

"Leona, please." You sighed, walking closer to his bed so he could see you.

"You look like shit." He commented.

"Leona." You scolded lightly, before shaking your head. "Look, it's not like I want to ask you a favor. But you're the only one I can sort of trust in this damn school that won't also get in trouble for helping me."

"Hmm?" He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of favor is this that you're worried your friends will get in trouble for helping you?"

"Vil has us on a really strict diet, and I can't eat any of it. But when I bought my own food and hid it from him, just so that I could eat and not bother him or anyone, he either tampered with it or threw it out. If I try again, I'll get in trouble, as will Ace, Deuce, and Grim if they help me. I would go to Jack, but he's still an underclassmen to Vil, so he might get in trouble too. But you're on the same level as him, so he can't scold you."

"As if he would try. What exactly are you asking of me?"

"Please, Leona, I need some food."

"Ha?"

"I'm not asking for a five course meal, just a little bit of food. Even just a small meal, or a bit of a portion of food from the meals your dorm eats. Please, Leona." He mulled it over for a few moments, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

"On one condition." He smirked, sitting up in his bed, leaning against the headboard.

"What?" You asked, apprehensive of what he may ask you to do. Target practice? Hours and hours of chess? Personal servant for an indefinite amount of time? What?

"Beg me. Beg me properly." You breathed a sigh of relief, happy that was all he wanted. It might be embarrassing, perhaps even a bit degrading, but at this point, you're desperate.

You sunk to your knees, looking Leona in the eyes. His eyes widened momentarily, in shock that you're actually willing to do what he asked. You clasped your hands together in front of you.

"I am begging you Leona. Please, help me." You begged. "I need your help, please."

"Alright, alright." He waved off your begging. "I'll tell Ruggie to make you something. And you can come and go whenever, and take food, just don't take too much."

"Thank you! This means so much, Leona." You thanked, shooting up from your position on the floor in front of him as he got up from his bed.

"Don't mention it." He sighed, walked towards the door. "I'm serious. Don't tell anyone about this." He glared.

"Never." You swore, crossing your heart with your pointer finger. He raised an eyebrow, confused at your action, but rolled his eyes.

"You coming or what?" You scrambled to quickly follow after him out of the room and towards the kitchen.

Azul Ashengrotto

"I'd like to make a deal." You had said to Jade, as he was the first one you saw upon entering the Mostro Lounge. He only smiled, that scary smile he always has on his face, and gestured for you to follow him, which you did.

He led you through the lounge, and to the back. Azul's office door was closed, as it usually was when you came to visit. You had grown quite close after the incident at Scarabia, and visited every now and then. But you hadn't been able to since Vil and the others had moved in.

Jade opened the door after knocking, telling Azul that he had a visitor. Azul looked up to see you, and smiled.

"What brings you here today?" He asked.

"They'd like to make a deal." Jade said cryptically before leaving. Azul looked at you, a little shocked, but it barely showed on his face.

"Is that true?" You nodded. "What can I do for you then?"

"I don't have much to offer in exchange for my request." You warned.

"I am aware. But I'm sure we can come up with something." His customer service persona was shining through, and it was almost impressive. "Now, what can I do for you?" You hesitated. "I have had my fair share of weird requests, rest assured, there's nothing to be embarrassed of." He tried to reassure you.

"Food." You weakly mumbled, almost pained by the request.

"I'm sorry, I fear I may have misheard you." He blinked, looking like a statue for a moment. "Did you say you wanted... food?"

"Yes.." You nodded.

"I apologize, I'm just a little confused. May I ask why you want food? I mean, don't you have food at your dorm? I know the budget is limited, but..." he trailed off.

"Vil, has put the entire team for the VDC/SDC on a very strict diet. And while I get what his intentions are, I can't eat the things he's trying to make me eat. I tried to buy my own food using the money I got from working shifts here, but he either threw it out or tampered with it. I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience, Azul, I'm just... I'm at my limit. I'm starving."

"He tampered with your food? How?"

"He hexed it." You told him. "It was just supposed to be to deter the others from eating it, since technically I don't need to be on the diet, but he did it to my private food stash too, so I fear he may be trying to make it so everyone has to eat the same thing. But like I said, I can't eat it. I can't. So, I'd like to make a deal. In exchange for some food, I'll work for free or something at the Mostro Lounge after the VDC/SDC." You tried to bargain.

"No, no, no, that simply won't do." He shook his head. "You already get an employee discount, but I'll comp your meals until the VDC/SDC is finished. Everyone should be allowed to eat." He told you. "Come in anytime, I'll inform the other employees that you are not to be charged."

"Really?"

"Yes. But, on one condition."

"What's the condition?"

"Come here when you have free time. Your company is nice, and it has been too long since we have spent time together." You smiled at him.

"It's a deal." You agreed. "Thank you, Azul. You're amazing! I mean it! This means everything to me!" You praised.

"Yes, I am. Feel free to spread the word about how generous I am." He laughed lightly. "Go outside and order something, then come back in here. You can do homework and eat as I work on contracts." You nodded, walking out to find Jade to order some food.

Idia Shroud

It was Ortho who had suggested it. He knew you and his brother were close, or at least closer than Idia was to the other students in this school. Ortho was concerned about your health, seeing it slowly decline as you weren't able to eat. He had practically dragged you to his brothers bedroom door out of concern for your health.

"Big Brother!" Ortho called. "Your friend is here, and they need your help." No response. You knocked rather loudly.

"Idia, I need to talk with you, please." You called out. A silence settled, and you were about to give up when the door opened.

"Come in." Idia said, allowing you into his dorm. He gestured for Ortho to come in to, but Ortho flew off before he could ask. "Ortho said you needed help."

"I hate to ask." You sighed.

"Well," he stammered, "you... you don't have to."

"I kinda do though." You acknowledged. "Idia, can I... can I have some food?"

"Food?" You shocked him out of his embarrassed state. "I'm sorry... food? Why do you want food? No, wait, that was a stupid question!" He panicked. "Of course you want food, everybody wants food, it's a necessity of life, even in games you need food," he began to rant, "I meant to ask why you want food from me, or, or, or, why you need to ask me for food?"

"Because," You interrupted his stammering, panicking, fast-speaking state, "because Vil has put everyone on a diet, and he's tampered with any food he's deemed to be outside of the diet. But I can't eat what he's asking me to eat. I just can't, Idia. But when I tried to buy my own food and hide it from him, he tampered with or threw that out too. I am really hungry Idia. And I hate to ask this of you, but can I please have some food?"

"Oh... OH of course. I'll order food for you right away."

"I can't, eat it at my dorm, Idia." You warned. "Vil will have a fit." He pulled up his phone.

"Then I'll just have to order it to be delivered to here, and you can eat it with me. Can't get in trouble with Vil if another dorm leader invited you to eat with them, right?" You blinked, slightly shocked at his cunning behavior.

"But... what if Vil gets angry at you?" You asked.

"That is a scary thought, he's rather.... intimidating." Idia acknowledged. "But, if he can't find me, he can't scold me, and he's never been to Ignihyde." Silence overtook you both for a moment, before you burst out laughing, beaming at Idia.

"Thank you, Idia!" You smiled. He chuckled a little as well.

Malleus Draconia

You didn't have to look long to find your friend Tsunotaro. He never seemed to be too far away when you needed him. Which was nice, in this case. You spotted him not too far away from Ramshackle, and managed to sneak past Vil's room just quiet enough to get out the door, and speed-walk towards your friend.

"Hi Hornton!" You greeted cheerfully, the envelope you'd been hoping to give him tucked safely in your pocket. He turned, and smiled softly at you.

"Greetings, child of man." He greeted, watching as you rushed up to him. "It's been some time. I trust all is well?" You waved your hand in a so-so motion.

"It's been better." You admitted. "But I'm doing ok right now!"

"I'm glad to hear it. It's good to see you in high spirits." He smiled.

"I had a question. Were you the one who sent the holiday greeting card?" You asked.

"Ah... that's right. I did give a card to Lilia to send. I never received a reply though." A bolt of guilt shot through you, even though you had no real way to respond or know if it was him or not. Especially given the fact that you needed to ask a favor of him. "You've surmised correctly. You really have no idea who I am, do you? Heh."

"I'd like to give you something in return for the card."

Maybe after you give him these tickets, you'll be even, and you'll be able to ask this favor without guilt. You are friends, right? He's your friend, so he might be willing to help you. You handed him the envelopes with the tickets in it. He carefully opened it, taking out the tickets to look at them.

"Are these... tickets to the show they're putting on at this year's culture fair?" He asked, almost shocked at the gift. "Are you actually inviting me?" He looked shell-shocked. You nodded enthusiastically, causing him to start laughing. "You truly have no fear at all." He smiled at you. "Very well. I shall accept your gracious invitation. Will you be in it?"

"No, I'm the team manager." You admitted. "But Vil and Kalim will be in it?" He should certainly know them, you thought, as they were dorm leaders.

"Oh, you're the team manager? Pity." He hummed. "But Schoenheit and Asim will be in it? Heh. That should be quite the spectacle. I'll look forward to the festival. Have a good night," He began to bade. You panicked.

"Wait!" You exclaimed, reaching forward and grabbing his arm, causing him to look at you with a little bit of shock. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to yell. And I feel guilty for even having to ask this of you after it took so long for me to respond to your holiday card." You admitted, sighing as you let him go.

"Ask what of me, child of man?"

"I told you that I'm the team manager. Vil had imposed a diet for the entire team, and unfortunately, that includes me. But I can't eat anything that he's making us eat. And I tried," your eyes pricked with tears, desperate for a solution you were hoping Hornton could provide, "I tried to just buy my own food and hide it from him, so I wouldn't bother anyone and I could still eat. But he found it, and he threw out most of it, and hexed what was left. And I'm just..." You tried not to sniffle, as a few tears escaped your eyes out of frustration at your situation and the fact that you're crying in front of your good friend, "I'm desperate at this point, Hornton. I'm starving. So, while I hate to ask this of you, and you absolutely do not have to do this, do you think I could maybe have some food?" You asked, getting quieter and quieter as you continued to speak.

"Schoenheit is not letting you eat?" He asked.

"It's not that he's not letting me eat, but he's not listening when I'm telling him I can't eat what he's trying to get me to eat." You explained.

"He... he hexed your food?" You nodded to his question, hearing thunder rumble from somewhere in the distance, despite the fact that it was winter. "Come, child of man," he held his hand out for you to take, "we shall feast tonight. And if Schoenheit has a problem with it, than he can talk to the dorm leader of Diasomnia about it." You nearly started crying out of relief. Bypassing his hand, you just slammed into him fully, hugging him tightly.

He must be quite good friends with his dorm leader, you found yourself thinking as he led you away from Ramshackle.

[takes1]

p.2 bratty tsukishima x manager!reader enemies to lovers

warnings. nsfw. m!masturbation at the end. midterms mentioned. minors DNI content. misinterpretation of emotions. tsukki not knowing how to handle a crush. enemies to lovers. or maybe enemies with benefits, i haven't decided yet. manager!reader. tsukki being so incredibly horny. tsukki not understanding facial expressions. sexual frustration. male masturbation + implied previous. kiyoko being a friend. yachi being a friend. 1.7k words notes. 3 more parts planned! ask to be added to the taglist if you don't want to miss one! links. PART ONE HERE. PART THREE . PART FOUR. FINAL PART. masterlist for mha. my ao3. masterlist for haikyuu

Despite your iced latte being mostly just water by now, you still sucked it down in desperation to get every ounce of caffeine you could. Midterms were just around the corner and one of your most difficult classes involved writing a 10-page scientific paper.

You had the whole semester to do it, so the dread you felt now was the amalgamation of months' worth of opportunity that you could've and should've used to work on it.

Thankfully, you didn't have to churn the majority of this thing out alone.

"What the hell does ameliorate mean." Kiyoko asked, though her soft frustration was starting to sound more like a statement now.

Yachi took every opportunity she could to stop doing her work, including this one. For her, there was less pressure to do perfectly on her finals since she had another two years to get those top marks.

She scanned her laptop screen for a moment, lips perched on the lid of her strawberry refresher: "Ameliorate means... To... make something bad or unsatisfactory better."

Kiyoko muttered something about how it still didn't make sense. Of course it wouldn't- she was taking an organic chemistry course.

The plan as it stood now was to rot in this spot all day until hunger moved you, so you all made an event out of it by putting on something cute, grabbing some coffees and pastries from a cafe nearby, and settling into this local library.

It wasn't planned, but you all simultaneously chose to wear skirts and cute summer tops. The mutual reaction of humor helped ease the pain of having to study all day. Suffering together was preferable to suffering alone.

The chance finally came again to stretch your legs and find another vaguely relevant reference to add to your bibliography.

With a rewarding, careful stretch, you rose out of your chair and took your time walking up and down the aisles to find something to support the fifth theory you'd written about so far.

Midterms were one stressor, but you weren't afforded the privilege of having tunnel vision over it.

Qualifiers were just around the corner, and you had the Tokyo training camp to prepare a load of equipment and personnel logs for.

As you selected a thick novel from a shelf above your head, you let out a small sigh.

The front matter described a concept you could start to look into and fluff up to your liking for the paper. Your mind fell back to the team, and how you wanted to do well on these exams so you'd have less to worry about going to Tokyo.

The side of your face was growing warm, probably from the East-facing window to your left, so you raised the back of a cold hand to cool yourself down.

You were just deciding to take this book back when, in the process of dropping your hand, you caught a blur of blond hair and glasses in the corner of your eye.

Your stomach jolted, heart starting to race, and an uncontrollable surprise took over your features.

Tsukishima was sitting, leaned over a table on his elbows, his head twisted all the way to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

You quickly looked back to the shelf and sucked in a breath. God, that must've looked so lame- you regretted every millisecond of that reaction and prayed he wouldn't ever bring it up.

He hated you. You didn't want anything to do with him. There was no pleasant exchange to get out of saying hello, or even acknowledging each other. It's not like you were friends.

Why was he even here? You started to get worried, but realized that he did ride the same train back with you after practice in the evenings.

Now you were really remembering. He got off one stop before yours and always moved to create the most space possible between you. You usually didn't see him again until he got off. Even then, you didn't care enough to look for him anymore.

You glanced back to him, expecting to now have to speak to him after you'd exchanged a mutual acknowledgment of each other's presence.

He was staring. But... that wasn't exactly the right word for it.

He was distracted. You wondered if he knew who you were, because you'd never seen him stare at you for more than a few seconds.

His brow wasn't pinched like usual. It was relaxed- in fact, everything about him was relaxed. The way his head was held in his hand, the loose grasp on his pencil, the subtle part of his lips. The lazy, yet measured scan of his eyes.

There was a reddish tint at the tips of his ears and highest points of his cheeks. It was astoundingly easy to notice, since he was so fair-skinned.

A strong chill ran up your spine when he finally made eye contact with you. Even then, it took a glance down to the book clasped against your chest, then back up for him to really notice your gaze and stiffen right up.

That new side of him vanished in an instant. It was replaced with a brief, stone-cold glower before he turned back to his own midterm work.

On the stiff walk back to your table, you smoothed your skirt out and pulled on the edge a bit before sitting back down.

It took a minute of silent sitting to even begin to unpack what you felt.

"Do I look stupid?"

Yachi instantly piped up, "Of course not! You're very pretty!"

"You really shouldn't waste your breath asking," Kiyoko glanced up at you.

It was brief but it rested your immediate insecurities.

"Why?" Yachi, once again, wanted nothing more than to just hang out and talk.

Another surge of chills. It was sickening.

You put your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "Mm-mm, it's just-..." You thought to tell them, but held back at the last second, "I dunno."

Another big sigh and you were back to typing to take your mind off of it. You'd have plenty of time to see what this spun into once you were free from this academic prison. It was too confusing right now.

Kiyoko didn't read into it, but Yachi lingered until 1) it was obvious you simply didn't want to disclose and 2) an abnormally tall boy from school walked past your table. She watched him watch you on his way towards the exit.

Her eyes narrowed with keen intuition.

the keen intuition in question:

Kei felt himself practically melt against the closed door of his bedroom. Breathless from a difficult and quick walk home, he fumbled with the tie of his sweatpants and the lock on the door concurrently.

"Finally," He sighed with a desperate laugh, "Fuck..."

His bag hit the floor with a sharp and careless thump. He stepped over it and fell onto his back on his mattress, a long arm stretched toward his side table for some lotion.

It was useless trying to study after that. Library or home, it didn't matter unless he could fuck this one out.

This time he didn't have to stalk your Instagram to spark his imagination; it was already running rampant with filthy ideas of what he'd do to you in that short skirt.

An ignored, aching erection sprang out of his waistband as he pushed it down and out of the way.

Light grey sweatpants had (for the first time in his life) ended up being a shit idea. All he could worry about on the 20 minute walk back was if anyone could see the tip of his cock tucked up just under his shirt.

Every shirt was too short. Every pair of pants was too big in the middle.

His slippery hand was beautiful relief. He was quick to get himself lubricated, and quicker to pump in slow, twisting motions to the image of you reaching, reaching, reaching up to that book on your tippy toes.

All the worry in his tight brow washed away in crashing waves of steady-growing pleasure.

Soon he didn't care about the harrowing journey home, the threat of midterms, nor the growing dread of that training camp.

It was just you.

It felt like fate that he got the only chance anyone might ever have to see the curve of your ass just under the hem of your skirt. You were able to get that book all too quickly.

If everything were different, he would've gotten it for you. You would've thanked him, kissed him on the cheek- he would've pulled you in for a heated, raunchy kiss with a hand palming you closer. He would've savored the view of you spread on the table for him -homework long forgotten- and his massive hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. It was a library, after all.

He seethed and stalled for a moment--, "a-ahh- Mm..."

His cock twitched hard with the need to cum, but he stopped just soon enough.

An oversized hand was holding the base; he looked at his other dry one, then closed his eyes in an eager but fruitless attempt to visualize just how they'd look on your thighs. Fuck, anywhere at this point.

Just one touch, that's all he wanted. He never let himself get close enough to even consider it, but my god, the internal struggle he made to stay away was commendable.

His tight, lightly sweaty stomach flexed with effort as he slowed down again.

You were so quick to switch up when it came to him. He could tell he had a special place in your heart, the way your lips pursed into a small frown and your eyes narrowed when he tested you.

It was out-of-this-world cute from his vantage point. A smile might just kill him.

"Mmm, fu-ck," He croaked, mind circling back to today.

His chest swelled with a shaky inhale- he smirked at the thought of you finding out about his terrible secret, how you would punish him for his unprofessional behavior. You were so pretty when you got mad.

The breath caught in his throat. He wasn't even thinking about the skirt when he finally came all over his stomach. Just that pretty face of yours did it for him.

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[loveshotzz]

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

My Favorite Customer

Summary: You’ve been buying weed from your new dealer for a few months now. Always leaving it in your mailbox while you’re at work, you two never cross paths until one Friday night when you come home early.

word count: 3k

Warnings: None really besides some kissing at the end. This just a little meet cute with our favorite weed dealer. (Not meant to be a series, just a fluffy one shot) mentions of weed obviously.

A/N: I missed Eddie and this idea came to me based off my real life of buying weed from my weed man for over a year. Have yet to come face to face with him, but there’s always weed in my mailbox when I need it lol. For my twin @boomhauer and thank you @superblysubpar for helping me find my Eddie voice again.

Lifting up the lid of your mailbox, the smirk that tugs at your lips can’t be stopped when a fresh bag of weed sits inside, his usual hand written note attached making your face hot. You look both ways before snatching the eighth quickly scuffling back into your apartment like you were hiding a pound of cocaine and not just enough green to last you a few days.

It had been like this for a while with Eddie. You’d call him up by the number given to you from Robin who swore up and down that he was the best.

You remember thinking his voice was cute the first time you heard it, and you started to wonder if he thought the same after the third call. A flirty edge hidden behind his words every time he’d pick up and realize it was you.

“Ahhh my favorite customer.” He’d tease starting to get these calls multiple times a week.

It wasn’t your intention to never meet Eddie, it’s just how it always seemed to happen. That first time you talked he could hear the desperation in your voice. The stress from the move here and starting your new full time job fresh out of high school, he could tell you needed to relax. Rattling off times he could come by, none of them ever lining up to match with yours.

“You got a mailbox or somewhere I could stash it?” He finally gave in after exhausting almost every other option.

“You’d do that?” You couldn’t help but be embarrassed by the obvious excitement in your voice and he just laughed.

“If the money’s there sweetheart, why not?” The nickname made your heart skip a beat biting your lip to try and hide your smile.

You don’t even know what he looks like.

So this is how it started playing out after that, you’d call with your order and he’d make you blush every time he’d kick the flirting up to ten.

Instantly comforted by his mellow voice, you found yourself looking forward to those few minutes so much that you weren’t sure if the amount you were smoking was from stress or from just wanting to hear his voice again. Then he started adding little notes to your deliveries and now you were almost positive it was the second.

His sloppy handwriting started appearing on each bag with the word ‘favorite’ always scribbled at the top.

Cheeks heating up the first time it showed up, you couldn’t stop trying to imagine what he looked like. Too scared to ask Robin, you knew she’d just follow your intrigue with a line of questioning of her own.

Settling for the vague faceless man you’d conjured up in your clever mind. You let the memory of his voice be the thing that secretly encouraged the movements of your fingers between your thighs every night.

—

Friday morning had you waking up with a smile, your stash low enough to do the thing you’d been thinking about since you hung up the last time. Taking a deep breath you dialed his number that you now had completely memorized. It only rings three times before his voice fills your end of the receiver.

“Is this who I think it is calling me this early in the morning?” The grin in his voice is evident when he answers.

Shuffling your feet nervously, the smile on your own face was starting to make your cheeks hurt.

“Do you always answer the phone like this?” You wonder if he can hear yours too.

“Only if I know it’s you.”his tone sends a shiver up your spine, legs pressing together on their own accord.

“And how’d you know that it was me Eddie?” You draw out his name sweetly, silently squealing when you hear the hitch in his breathing from it.

“Because sweetheart, you’re the only one who calls this early for weed.” catching the way he almost whispers the last part, you hear a gruff voice in the background.

“Boy if you don’t leave soon!”

“Sorry, is that a problem? I just wanted to catch you before it was too late.” The urge to crawl in a hole is strong as you slap your palm on your forehead.

Your eagerness to talk to him becoming more than obvious, the man yelling at him in the background definitely wasn’t helping your new bashfulness.

“Pshh are you kidding me? I love it. Get to start the morning off talking to my favorite girl.” He lays his response on thicker than syrup. Your palms start to sweat noting the way he didn’t say customer for the first time.

Your embarrassment subsides for a split second before the voice from before cuts in again.

“If I get another call that you were late again, boy I swear to -“

The line shuffles on the other end and all you can hear is the sounds muffled arguing before another loud rustle, his voice returning with more irritation in it than you’d ever heard before.

“You want the usual?” He’s short when he answers and you know it’s not supposed to be directed at you, but you can’t help but squirm.

“Y- yeah if that’s okay?” You didn’t mean to give yourself away by stumbling over your words, but when you do Eddie makes a quick recovery.

“More than, listen you have a good day at work today Sweetheart. I really gotta go, but check your mailbox when you get home.” Hanging up before you get a chance to finish saying goodbye you hear Eddie yell “I”m leaving alright?!”

——

Work was exceptionally slow for a Friday night, the unexpected thunderstorm that rolled through killed any possibility of a dinner rush. Cutting you less than half way through your shift, your giddy excitement couldn’t be contained. Friday evenings had become non-existent since you started at Enzo’s. So when the opportunity to actually have one came around you couldn’t turn it down. Stopping at Family Video on your way home, Robin helped you pick out something she swore was good while you did your best to ignore the eyes her friend Steve was giving you.

Strumming your fingers against the steering wheel while you listened to Kiss a little too loud, the heavy rain turned into something less than a light drizzle as your tires splashed through puddles. Planning out your evening alone you didn't even think of what this could mean as you pulled into your parking spot hours earlier than normal.

Too caught up in trying to land the notes to I Was Made For Loving You, you didn’t see the van parked in front of your small complex. Head in the clouds with the possibilities of the night mixed with your bad habit of looking down when you walked, you didn’t see who was right in front of you. The sound of the voice you’d been daydreaming for months about cuts through your mumbled singing. Stomach dropping to the floor when you hear

“Son of a bitch.”

Freezing in place, your eyes slowly trail up towards your front door. Standing at almost six feet tall was a curly haired metal head. Mumbling profanities as he struggled against the lid of your mailbox, his jacket looked caught on something. Broad shoulders covered by a battle vest adorned with a giant Dio patch, you still couldn’t see what his face looked like as he struggled with the sleeve of the leather jacket beneath. Taking in his ripped black jeans and scuffed white Reebok’s, your heart was already threatening to beat out of your chest. If his face was cute, you knew you’d be fucked.

A few more violent tugs of his arm, he finally breaks free as your mailbox creaks dangerously close to coming unhinged off the brick wall. His zippers jingle as he shakes out his wrist, flipping up a ring clad middle finger he chuckles proudly to himself before turning around. Big brown eyes meet yours like a deer in headlights, so cute they punch the air out of our lungs.

Yeah, you were fucked.

Brows furrowed under messy bangs his eyes go from your stunned face down to the keys in your hand with your VHS tape before he takes in your frame. Catching the way they linger just long enough to still be polite. He meets your shocked stare as something clicks in his head. A dimple filled smile pushes past his plush lips, yours threatening to do just the same at the sight.

“Eddie?” Surprised you were able to get his name out of your mouth, his face seems to light up even more as his suspicions were confirmed.

“That depends.” Rocking on his heels he crosses his arms over his chest “Favorite, is that you? Cause boy, you’re even cuter than you sound.”

Blood rushing to your cheeks hearing your nickname in person like this, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth at his compliment.

“That depends.” Looking up at him from under your lashes the dimples in his cheeks deepen at your response.

Twirling one of his curls over his lip, you notice all of his rings “What if it’s your favorite weed dealer?”

Cuter than anything you could have conjured up in your mind you were silently scolding yourself for not meeting him sooner. Straightening your shoulders a little you take a few strides closer to him, watching as his eyes don’t try to hide as they take all of you in.

“I’m sure you call all the girls that, but yes it’s me Eddie.” Smiling bigger than you can help, it’s his turn to take a couple steps closer.

“Nah, that nickname is just for you sweetheart.” Standing close enough to catch hints of corner store cologne trying to cover up cigarette smoke, everything about him made your brain short circuit. Looking down at the movie in your hand his eyebrows raise in disbelief before meeting your eyes again. “Alien?”

“Robin suggested it to me for my unexpected night off.” Flipping it over in your hand to read the back, you could feel his stare on your face rather than on the tape. “Ever seen it?” glancing up at him, he doesn’t try to hide what he was actually looking at.

Nodding, he grins down at you “Buckley’s got great taste.”

Catching the double meaning in his words an electric current that could light up all of Hawkins dances between your bodies. Static vibrating from your fingertips, you couldn’t stop the sigh that slipped between your lips.

The raindrop that hits you between the eyes is jarring, you blink fast before more start a slow and steady decent splattering all around. Raising a large hand up to try and shield his curls he looks annoyed that Mother Nature was cutting his time short.

“I hate to deliver and dash sweetheart, but I don’t wanna keep you in the rain.” Doe eyes taking in your face like he was trying to commit it to memory he moves to step around you.

Panic rises and constricts around your chest as you watch his retreating form, biting the inside of your cheek you work up enough courage to do something you’ve never done. Make the first move.

“Doyouwannwatchitwithme?” Words jumbled together and almost yelled as they fell out of your mouth, your mumbled nonsense stops him dead in his tracks. Turning around, having his full attention like this was making it even harder.

“Come again princess?” The new nickname threatens to send you six feet under when you feel your knees shake. Clearing your throat you gather whatever confidence you can muster under the intensity of his stare.

“Do you want to come watch this movie with me?” Using it as a makeshift umbrella you start walking backwards towards front door “I actually just got this pretty good shit delivered you should try it.”

The smile that breaks across his face is infectious, feeling it in the way your lips stretch so much it makes your cheeks hurt.

“Oh yeah? I mean if you’re talking about who I think you’re talking about, that guy’s got the best shit in town sweetheart.” The laugh he pulls from you, he swears it makes your face glow. “I’d be honored favorite, I thought you’d never ask.”

—-

Your living room lays in a blanket of haze from two joints successfully smoked, touches lingering more and more as you two passed them back and forth. Half way through the movie you were giggling through cupped fingers leaning into him as you both sank deeper into the cushions of your couch. His bad jokes and over the top commentary kept you both laughing with shoulders pressed together for support. Neither one of you making any effort to move when you both finally calm down.

Peeking at him from the corner of your eye, you were mesmerized by how handsome he was this close. Your stare following the curve of his round nose to the fullness of not one but both his lips, a light sheen coating them from being freshly licked. The sharp planes of his jaw lead you to the thickness of his neck, catching the silver chain that disappears into his shirt.

Time is an illusion in your foggy brain - especially under his spell, losing yourself trying to remember every curve and scar on his face you stare long enough to to get caught. Chocolate eyes connecting with yours, the corners of his lips tug up and like looking in a mirror yours do you.

“Hey favorite”quiet enough for just you to hear, there’s a soft rasp in his voice from all the smoking.

“Hey Eddie”biting your bottom lip, his eyes watch the way your teeth scrape across the silk of it.

Leather creaking loud enough to hear over the sound of the movie and the rain outside, he drapes his arm over the back of the couch. The dip pulling you deep into the warmth of his chest.

“Is this okay?”for the first time you see a hint of nervousness in his eyes as he tries to read the expression on your face.

Nodding you slide a tentative hand up his chest feeling his muscle twitch under your palm, looking up at him you repeat his own question.

“Is this okay?”

His hand reaches up to cup the side of your face, the weed helping you melt into his touch as the pad of his thumb traces your cheekbone. Searching your eyes for any sign of protest he nudges his nose with yours. The heat of his breath fans across your parted lips as your eyes flutter closed completely overcome by him being this close.

“Sweetheart, if I’m reading this wrong please tell me now.” Your top lip brushes with his bottom when he asks the question and you think you might combust if you don’t close the gap.

Tilting your head just enough to get what you want, your lips move together like it was something they’d been doing for years. Each lazy drag setting your skin ablaze.

Swiping his tongue against your bottom lip he quietly asks you for more. Granting him access to something you’re sure you’ll never deny him, you don’t hesitate to let him deepen the kiss.

Tongues meeting each other in the middle, they battle for dominance as your fingers find their way into the thickness of his curls. Tugging slightly, you smile into the kiss when a groan erupts from deep in his chest.

With the rest of the world long forgotten, the two of you stay like this for longer than you can keep track of. Hands exploring curves and grabbing hips, it almost becomes too much when you nip his bottom lip.

Eddie’s the one who breaks away reluctantly when the need for oxygen becomes too much, and his body starts to react a little too strongly to your touch. The screen on the TV had gone blue long ago when the movie ended, leaving your dark living room in its pale bright light. The coloring of it all hitting his face just right.

Nudging his nose with yours he leans his head back against the cushions of the couch. Chocolate eyes looking at you through half closed lids, a lazy smile spreading wide across his kiss swollen lips.

“We should probably stop, and I should probably go.”jutting his bottom lip in a pout he catches the disappointment you try to hide flash behind your eyes. “Not that I want to, I just actually had other stops that I was supposed to make tonight, but it’s not like I was going to say no to you inviting me to hangout.”snorting like that was the craziest thing he could ever imagine, his face lights up when he earns a laugh from you.

“Yeah, I’d be pretty pissed if I was them.” Using his chest to try to push yourself up with your hands, he stops you from getting too far. Collecting your lips one last time, he only lets you pull away enough for your noses to stay touched.

“Besides having a few more drop offs, I’m hoping the next time I kiss you like that is after you let me take you on a date?”catching the nerves in his voice, you couldn’t actually believe he thought you’d say no.

“Bold of you to assume there’s going to be a next time.”raising a brow you do your best to remain straight faced as he narrows his eyes at you.

He brushes his lips lightly against yours again before asking “there’s not?”

Giving in almost instantly you add pressure pushing yourself closer, chuckling as he pulls away, you stop trying to fight the smile that’s threatening to spread across your own face.

“Fine, you caught my bluff.” Huffing in mock annoyance, this time he lets you push yourself up.

It still takes another thirty minutes for Eddie to work up enough willpower to get off the couch, your easy conversation and pouty soft lips making it a near impossible feat.

More stolen kisses and stumbled words fill the empty space on the walk to the front door followed by even more before he finally goes. Sweet just like the nickname he gave you, he couldn’t wait to make you his.

——

taglist: @munsonology @munsonmunster @elthreetimes

[to-thelakes]

sleepy

pairing; matt murdock x fem!reader

summary; re-adjusting to anti-depressants was never an easy task but you have your vigilante boyfriend to help.

warnings; fluff, just pure fluff, reader is on anti-depressants and very very sleepy, also a cheese lover

notes; this one-shot is definitely at least a few months old, i think i wrote it when i originally switched my dosage so it's a little chaotic. i feel like there's a lack of fics talking or discussing antidepressants so i like filling in the gap to comfort anyone who was suffering the sleepiness and shitty feelings like i was those first few months. also this is my first matty one-shot i'm releasing so please enjoy <3

masterlist

You were so tired. The first two weeks of antidepressants, you were told, would be the worst but it hadn’t prepared you for just how exhausted you felt. You had spent most of the first three days, curled up in bed and sleeping the day away. By the fourth day, your snack supplies had already begun to dwindle which is the opposite of what you needed right now.

And by the fifth day, you had to venture out to the store. And that had killed you off. You had gotten back, grabbed a bag of chips and curled up on the couch. Within a few hours you were asleep and you stayed like that for another four hours. The TV had suddenly seemed to get astronomically loud and it woke you from your slumber.

So, with a little huff, you rolled off the couch and began to make something proper to eat for dinner. But you felt exhausted. It clung to your mind, hovering over you as you tried to make cheesy pasta. Everything felt impossible and slow and it was frustrating but it was made better when you heard the familiar tap-tap-tap on the fire escape window. 

A grin spread across your face as you left your pasta to heat up the cheese, pulling the window open as Matt Murdock climbed through. He was still in his Daredevil costume and you thought he looked rather silly but he already knew that’s what you thought of his costume. He liked hearing you tease him.

But rather than saying anything, you just wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him. Your eyes fell closed as you snuggled into him making him chuckle softly.

“It’s nice to see you too, darling,” He greeted softly. All you had the energy to do was hum in vague acknowledgement. His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a moment before he softly reminded you about the food on the stove. So, you reluctantly pulled back and went over to the pan. You split the pasta into two bowls and turned around just as Matt pulled his helmet off. He placed it down on the counter before cautiously walking over to you.

“I’m sleepy,” You mumbled softly as you passed him the bowl. He took a hold of it, searching for the fork before he began to eat it. You had added a little bit of seasoning, salt, pepper, garlic powder in hopes of giving it a little more flavour. But you knew within the first bite and from the look on Matt’s face that you had gone overboard with the garlic. A huff escaped your lips and you placed the bowl on the side, “I’m going back to bed,” You declared, giving up for the day. Matt chuckled, listening to your footsteps as you walked across the apartment to your bed.

The air moved around you as you face-planted and he couldn’t help another chuckle as he turned around. His gaze landed somewhere near you but you weren’t even paying attention. Sleep was desperate to crawl up your spine and take you in but Matt was here now and you wanted to see him for a bit.

He managed to place the bowl on your side before he navigated his way carefully through your apartment. He could smell a bowl of hummus on the floor somewhere, you had a habit of leaving random crockery on the floor so he was being careful before he reached your bed. He crawled onto it before he sat cross-legged across from you.

“How long have you slept today?” He asked curiously. You mumbled in vague response but he didn’t catch a single word of it. He reached out towards you and gently pushed your head back so that you would tilt your head to the side, “What was that?” He had a teasing lilt to his tone and it made you want to smack him.

“A while but I’m sleepy,” You muttered. Matt knew that you were on new medication. You had tried to hide it from him a few days ago but he could smell your body going haywire. It was the same with everyone he had known who switched medication. Body’s went haywire while they adjusted before eventually settling back into routine.

That’s all this was but he still found your sleepy-grumpiness adorable. Matt held his hand out towards you and you reluctantly dragged yourself so you could curl into his lap. His fingers began to run through your hair but the strands were getting caught on his gloves. You let out disgruntled noises before he decided to take his gloves off. Then his fingertips began to massage your scalp and you hummed happily.

“You feeling better?” He asked. You ‘mhm’d in response and he could tell that you were going to fall asleep in his lap, “I need to change, darling. Need you to get out of my lap.” There was an amused lilt to his voice and another disgruntled noise fell from your lips. You moved out of his lap before dropping onto the top of the bed. Matt always found your mood while sleepy to be not all that dissimilar to a cat. You hated being disturbed when you were curled up and comfortable and when you were, you gave the offender the evils.

You assumed Matt didn’t know that you did that but he could sense it. He had always been able to feel your gaze boring into him.

“In the usual place?” He asked. You let out another hum of agreement before you burrito’d in your covers, snuggling your face into the pillow. He changed silently, listening to your heartbeat and breathing to see if you had fallen asleep. But it seemed you weren’t falling into it quite yet. Once he had changed, he walked over to the bed and lay on top of the mattress.

And that was when you unburritoed yourself and crawled on top of Matt. You practically curled up on his chest, burritoing both of you with the covers as you snuggle into his neck. Matt’s arms wrapped around your back.

“Much better,” You mumbled under your breath. He chuckled softly at your words and you let your eyes close. Your breathe evened out relatively quickly, “Much better.” You snuggled up to him, peppering kisses across his neck before you nuzzled there. Matt grinned and pressed a kiss against your hairline.

“Glad I could be of service,” He teased. You grumbled against his chest but he merely continued to grin, kissing your hairline again before he let his eyes fall closed.

[volklana]

I Gave You All

Title Comes From This Song:

Request from @whitedarkmoonflower :

Hi! I hope you are doing well? I love your Sihtric fics, they are so full of life and emotions, and so naturally flowing. 💖💖💖

I'm struggling a bit myself and I really, really need something angsty with my beloved Sihtric. Would you consider writing something where he's getting home from a battle and some rumors reach him that his wife hasn't been faithful to him?

And when he gets back he sees something that makes him believe these rumors, but it has some innocent explanation, he just doesn't want to listen and he's angry and accusative and pushes her away and she leaves upset for his mistrust and not letting her explain. And they both are heartbroken.

And then he finds out that nothing was actually as he thought and he desperately wants her back. The ending is up to you. I'm fine with everything.

Warnings: Mention of the word whore in a derogatory manner.

A/N : I really hope that I did your idea justice and hopefully this brings you some comfort sweetheart xxx

Blood dripped down Sihtric’s face and fell warm and sticky onto his forearm although he could not tell if it was his own or some fallen Dane’s just yet.

He was trying to force the air into his battle drunk lungs, chest rising and falling rapidly as sound began to flood his senses once more, and the vague recognition that someone was calling his name pulled him back to where he stood beaten and sore on the bloody battle field.

Finan was before him in an instant, worried eyes searching his face before he was pulled flush against his friend’s chest as he repeated "Thank god. Oh thank god.”

It was true, Sihtric had come but a hair’s width away from death, he had slipped and gone down, forcing him to fight for his life as blow after blow pummeled down on top of him and only by the grace of the gods, his opponent had slipped on blood or mud, it didn’t matter but Sihtric had managed to scramble the upper hand and fought tooth and nail before managing to wrangle his dagger free and drove it up under the jaw of his opponent and watched the light leave his eyes.

Finan grasped Sihtric by the face with both hands.

“What happened?” he demanded and Sihtric swallowed thickly.

“He said her name,” he rasped horsley, “He said her name and it threw me off center.”

Finan looked puzzled for a moment before Sihtric continued “He says that she is a whore and there is another man humping my wife.” 

His stomach twisted and he was hurling all its contents upon the ground as Finan ran a worried hand through his hair.

Sihtric rode in silence. Just this morning his heart had been pining for you. He had imagined the softness of your hands against his hardened skin, the swell of your breast when you reached up to wrap your arms around him and the comfort of your embrace, but now he felt shame and rage at having left you for so long that you would go looking for solace in the arms of another man.

Beocca had added salt to his wounds when he teased “I hear your wife has returned to her old profession,” and after a pause he added “Humping for coin,” as if Sihtric wasn’t all too familiar with what your old profession was.

He had drawn out to strike the priest but Uhtred had intervened before any of his blows could land.

It was no secret that Sihtric had married an alehouse whore, but nobody had ever seen the broken woman that Sihtric had fallen in love with. The one who cried at his tenderness. The one who begged him to return to her time and time again. The one who begged him to take her away from the alehouse where men could pay to hurt her and own her body for the night, and the one who had shown him nothing but love and acceptance and faithfulness from the moment he made her his wife. You had never wanted that life for yourself and Sihtric was the only man to ever see you beyond a quick hump, and he was certain you were the only person in the world who had ever seen him for who he truly was. Would you really have returned to that world willingly? The logical parts of Sihtric’s brain wanted to dismiss the rumours, but the seeds of doubt had been sown and now he felt hollow. 

They stopped for the night to allow the horses to rest and Finan arrived back to the table with a round of ales. 

“Sihtric, she has never so much as looked at another man in the years since you wed,” Uhtred tried to reassure but he knew his words were falling on deaf ears, despite Osferth and Finan’s agreement. 

Sihtric merely sat sullen, staring at his drink.

“Where is the Sihtric who begged me to allow him to marry his love? He would not have crumbled now by the words of a few others.”

“It is different now,” Sihtric sighed, taking a long gulp of his ale.

“Sihtric,” Finan tried softly “I have never seen y/n look at anyone the way she looks at you. It is like you are the only person that matters in any room she is in, and you know this. You don’t want to listen to us now but I know that you know this.”

Sihtric’s heart fluttered because he wanted to believe Finan, he wanted to believe you, but deep inside he had always carried a burning fear that he was never enough for you.

He had enough of Uhtred and Finan trying to placate him, so with his drink in hand he made his way toward the one person he believed would be honest with him, Beocca.

“Sihtric,” he sighed “I said what I said in jest. To tease. I don’t believe a word of it so I assumed you would not either.”

“I need to know what’s being said,” Sihtric sighed, collapsing down opposite him and Beocca eyed him suspiciously.

“What good will it do to listen to idle gossip?” 

“I need to know!” Sihtric urged.

Beocca sighed a long, drawn out sigh before he nodded and began, “She has been seen with the blacksmith's son.”

“Where?” Sihtric demanded, and Beocca took an intake of break.

“Both going into his quarters and- and in your home.”

Sihtric looked crestfallen and then absolutely furious, as he contemplated that you might have had another man in the home he had provided for you.

“I do believe that there is a reasonable explanation,” Beocca offered and Sihtric spat, “Yes, that my wife is a whore.” 

The ride back to Winchester usually filled Sihtric’s heart with excitement but this time he wished the ride would never end. 

His heart was broken, so much so that last night he felt like he would die, silent tears and violent sobs wracked him in the room he shared with Finan but if the Irishman heard he at least pretended that he didn’t, and for this Sihtric was grateful.

Usually, Sihtric would be stopping and swooping to pick up every wild flower that he deemed perfect to put into the bouquet he would present sheepishly to you when he swooped you up into his arms- but not today.

He paused at the door, not ready to face the storm that was waiting inside, but then his heart sank to his toes, pressing his ear to the door he could hear you laughing softly inside. 

He pressed his forehead against the cool wood of the door, his palms resting against the rough grain either side of his head and he shook, listening to your beautiful voice inside blissfully unaware that he was coming in to blow your whole life apart and then red hot fury overtook him when he heard the voice of a man. He turned on his heel and made his way to the alehouse where he drank until he was almost stupid and by the time he returned home the sun had set and his home was silent. 

“Sihtric!” you exclaimed voice full of surprise and joy as you ran to greet him,throwing your arms around him and placing a kiss against his temple, glee slowly slipping from your expression as he went rigid in your arms, and refused to kiss you back, and the unmistakable scent of ale filled your senses.

“What is it my love? Are you hurt?” you asked slowly, taking a step back to examine his hardened expression.

“Is it true?” he asked, face and voice devoid of any emotion “You and the blacksmith’s son, is it true?”

“The blacksmith’s son?” you questioned as your heart began to thump in your chest. 

“Is it true that after everything I have given you, you are humping the blacksmith's son for coin, here, under my roof. The very roof I put over your head.”

“Sihtric,” you cried, taking a step toward him, only to have him step away from you, “Months…Months you’ve been gone. Leaving me here alone and this is what you return and accuse me of? This is your opinion of me?”

“It is what half the men believe. You have been seen. I cannot  believe that if you were to return to your old ways, you would do so with such little care for me, for us.”

“Return to my old ways?” you shrieked “Because no matter what fine dresses I wear, or how much I show you that I love you and only you, underneath it all I will only ever be an alehouse whore to you is it?” 

“I took you from that life,” Sihtric spat, “I gave you everything, all I asked in return was that you loved me, that you kept your vows to me.”

“And I have,” you cried but he refused to meet your gaze so you turned on your heel, and began rummaging through a cupboard in the kitchen before returning with a leather pouch, in your shaking hands.

“You wanted to know what I was doing with Eadwyn, here. I wanted it to be a surprise,” tears were in your eyes as you thrusted the pouch into his hands “I had it made so that you would always have a piece of us wherever you went, but now…now it is tainted.” 

Sihtric opened the pouch to find a silver dagger inside, the blade was forged in steel with a sharp, tapering edge, that almost gleamed in the light. The hilt of the dagger was inlaid with intricate, interwoven patterns and embedded in the decorative pommel was a red gem that Sihtric would have recognised anywhere. It had been his wedding present to you, a beautiful necklace that you had worn on the day you made your vows.

Sihtric’s eyes were glazed with tears as he looked at you trying to form words but coming up short. 

“How did you afford this?” he gasped, and you laughed spitefully.

“I did not hump him,” you spat. “You want to know why he has been coming here at night? In exchange for him making this for you, I have been teaching him to read. He comes here after working in the forge all day and I teach him to read. He wishes to be a commander in Alfred’s fleet, and the king will not allow anyone unable to read to do so.”

“Y/n?” he cried mismatched eyes searching your own ones desperately.

But you put your hands up to prevent him taking another step towards you.

“You think you saved me, Sihtric Kjartansson? But I chose you. You think you were the first to profess love to me? To wish to take my hand in marriage, you were not. But. I. Chose. You. I gave you all. All the best parts of me. All the parts I saved only for you, because I loved you, I wanted to be loved by you, but now you have ripped my heart out and I have nothing left to give you.”

He tried to take another step toward you but you ducked past him storming out the door and slamming it closed behind you. 

It was well past midnight when you found yourself pounding on the door of the nunnery, tears streaming down your face, as Hild scooped you into your embrace and pulled you to her in an all encompassing hug.

You cried yourself to sleep on the tiny straw bed and it felt like a darkness had swallowed you whole. 

For weeks now Sihtric had been going out of his mind. Weight was dropping from his bones because he simply could not eat. Sleep was a concept he simply could not remember and despite never having felt so drained in all his life he could not rest.

Finan and Uhtred had tried their best to pull him from his sadness but he simply could not speak. He had completely retreated within, somewhere that his friends could not find him and pluck him from.

Osferth would never tell his friends this but there was a night where he physically held Sihtric in his arms after he arrived to find him crumpled over in pain on the floor. He was falling apart without you and it was all his own doing.

He didn’t even give you the chance to explain.

He had already made his mind up before he even asked you for an explanation.

And he would never forget the wild look in your eyes as you fell out of love with him.

Osferth burst into the alehouse where Sihtric was sipping on a tankard of ale with Finan and Uhtred, a piece of parchment in hand.

“She is with Hild,” he announced and Sihtric was rising quicker than a bolt of lightning, “Ready the horses,” he commanded and his friends were also springing into action.

Hild stood firm, arms folded across her chest, refusing to move aside and Sihtric rounded on her tears pooling in his eyes “Please. Please Hild I have to try make this right. I have to try.”

She reluctantly moved aside and sighed “She is in the orchard.”

Sihtric spotted you before you saw him, you looked utterly worn out. The skin around your eyes was red from crying and his stomach churned with the guilt that he had put the tears in your eyes. 

“Y/n,” he tried weakly and you dropped the apron of apples you had gathered in shock, face contorting in pain when you saw him before you.

“How can I ever begin to make up for this y/n?” he begged and you shook your head as a single tear slipped down your cheek.

“I don’t think you can Sihtric,” you cried and he gasped a sob.

“Don’t say that. Please don’t say that.”

“Can’t you see what you’ve done?” you cried “You reduced me to nothing but a whore in your mind and heart because of some stupid lies and speculation. You didn’t even offer me the grace to explain myself because you have already decided that I can never be anything more than my past. How can I ever forget that? I can accept being a whore to everyone else Sihtric but for all these years I always believed I was more to you.”

“I let my insecurities lead my judgement,” he cried “All this time I could never believe that someone as beautiful as you chose me. I have always thought you deserved better than I could ever give, I was too blinded by my own fears and shortcomings to think clearly. But for all of that I am here before you begging you to love me again. I can’t be without you, life is unbearable without you.”

“You’ve shattered my heart, Sihtric. I don’t know if I can allow myself to love again, it is too painful, I won't live the rest of my life knowing you think I cannot be trusted when all I have ever done is be a faithful wife to you.” 

Sihtric shook his head wildly, grasping your hands, heart breaking when you snatched them back.

“I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that I am not this man who has hurt you, mistreated you and made you cry. I love you more than anything on this earth. Allow me to rebuild our trust, because I will never doubt you another day again as long as there is breath in my lungs. And maybe..Maybe in time you could find your way to love me again.”

“I never stopped loving you,” you whispered “It is you who abandoned me.”

Sihtric had enough of distance and pulled you to him in a crushing embrace, relieved when you allowed him to scoop you closer, your head falling upon his shoulder as he wrapped his fingers up in your hair. 

Your tears felt warm as they fell on his forearms and he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling that all familiar scent of home.

“Can you love me again?” he pleaded in a soft whisper against your skin, and you nodded gently in his arms.

“I will never doubt you another day of my life,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your hair, and then cupping your face in his hands he rested his forehead against yours “I promise to never take you or our love for granted again.” he vowed and you nodded in his hands.

“Believe me when I say, you are the only man I have ever loved, and I will never leave you for another. I am yours and I give you all, there is no room for another.”

Sihtric had to accept the fact that he had to believe what you were telling him now, he had allowed his insecurities to pull you apart once before. But never again.

The weight of both of your pasts would slowly ease. There would surely be more challenges to come and times where love would be tested and strained But never again would your trust in one another waver or the commitment and vows you made to one another. 

And with Sihtric in your arms sleeping soundly you could finally release the heaviness you had been carrying since you had left Winchester in disgrace of your past, and your husband’s accusations. 

Tagging: @canyonmoon-2@sihtricfedaraaahvicius@whitedarkmoonflower@shamrockqueen@thenameswinter99@foxyanon@acdassenza@thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

[dee-writes-anime]

Late Night Cravings with Toge Inumaki

FEATURING Toge Inumaki x Reader

SUMMARY It's 3am and you could really go for some nachos

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy trope, Toge being the biggest sweetheart, cutie fluffy stuff, I desperately need a nap, DETAILED mansplain of how I like my nachos mmmmm, cod roe :0

AUTHORS NOTE I promise I'm not dead, I've just been a little preoccupied with mental breakdowns and my coursework. ANYWHO, I hope you all enjoy this short little Toge shaped treat as my apology. I promise I will get to your requests soon, I've just been a little busy rotting away.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The clock on your nightstand read 3:24 a.m., and there you were, wide awake with an undeniable craving gnawing at you. It started as a faint whisper in your mind, a vague notion of something savory and warm. But within moments, it was as if your whole body was practically screaming for it. You tried to ignore it, rolling onto your other side and taking a few deep breaths, hoping you might fall back asleep. But the craving just got stronger. It was nachos that you wanted, and not just any nachos—ones with thick, gooey layers of cheese, topped with plenty of spicy jalapeños, all seasoned perfectly.

Sighing, you glanced at Toge, who was fast asleep beside you. You knew waking him up at this hour was ridiculous, but at the same time, there was no way you could satisfy the craving yourself. Your feet were sore, your back ached, and standing in the kitchen for that long just felt out of the question. So, after a moment of consideration, you gently nudged him. “Toge, honey,” you whispered softly, your fingers grazing his arm.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, squinting at you in the dim light of the room. “Salmon?” he murmured, his voice groggy but with a hint of concern. He shifted slightly, reaching for your hand with sleepy gentleness.

“I know it’s silly,” you whispered, your cheeks heating. “But I really need some nachos. Like, really cheesy ones, with jalapeños and a little extra salt. And I need them right now.”

There was a moment of silence as Toge took in your words, processing your request in his half-asleep state. And then, in typical Toge fashion, his mouth curved into the smallest, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. “Tuna mayo,” he responded in a soft voice, which you knew translated to don’t worry, I’ve got you covered.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and stretched, giving you a quick, sleepy peck on your forehead before slipping out of bed. He held out his hand, gesturing for you to come with him. Smiling, you slipped your hand in his, letting him lead you to the kitchen. The quiet warmth of his presence made you feel like waking him up wasn’t such a selfish idea after all.

In the kitchen, he quickly assessed what he’d need, giving you a gentle nudge toward a bar stool at the counter so you could sit and relax. His hand grazed your belly as you settled, and you felt the baby kick lightly, almost as if they were getting excited along with you. Toge noticed the movement too, his eyes lighting up as he pressed a soft palm against your stomach, feeling the tiny kick. He chuckled softly, his expression turning playful as he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, Nachos for both of you, huh?

He went to work with silent efficiency, pulling out a bag of tortilla chips, a block of sharp cheddar, a handful of shredded mozzarella, and a little container of jalapeños. You watched as he grated the cheese with the focus and dedication he brought to everything, making sure each piece was perfectly even. You couldn’t help but admire how his hands moved, steady and precise, as he worked through his drowsiness.

A few minutes later, Toge spread the chips evenly on a baking sheet, layering them carefully with cheese and jalapeños. He added a few special touches he knew you’d love: a sprinkle of smoky paprika, a dash of garlic powder, and a little drizzle of honey, which he knew balanced out the spice and added a unique sweetness. You hadn’t even thought of that last part, but the smell alone made your mouth water.

When the nachos were finally in the oven, he came over to stand beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as you both leaned against the counter. He had this peaceful look on his face, and he squeezed you gently, pressing a light kiss to your temple. You could tell he wasn’t annoyed or even inconvenienced by the request. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself, glad to have a reason to take care of you and, by extension, the baby.

While the nachos baked, you both waited in companionable silence, Toge occasionally glancing at you with a warm look in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing your shoulder. Eventually, the oven timer beeped, and he moved to pull out the tray. The aroma of melted cheese, spicy jalapeños, and a hint of honey filled the air, and you could practically feel your mouth watering.

Toge carefully plated the nachos, making sure to spread them out so each chip had a balanced mix of toppings. He set the plate in front of you with a soft smile, his eyes filled with affection and pride, as if he’d just finished creating a masterpiece.

You took a deep breath, savoring the smell, then reached for a nacho, giving him a thankful glance before you took your first bite. The mix of salty cheese, spicy jalapeño, and that touch of honey was perfect. Toge had gotten every single element just right, down to the exact amount of salt you were craving. You sighed contentedly, the happiness you felt translating into a soft, grateful smile.

“Mm, this is amazing,” you mumbled around a mouthful of nachos, your eyes half-closed in bliss. Toge watched you with a quiet laugh, his own expression softened, clearly pleased by how happy you looked. He pulled a stool closer, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you eat, every so often reaching over to swipe a chip himself.

As you both continued to munch away, you felt a gentle flutter from your belly, a little kick from the baby, as if they, too, were grateful for the midnight snack. Toge’s eyes darted to your stomach, his smile widening as he placed a gentle hand there, feeling the tiny movements under his palm. He looked up at you, a silent exchange passing between you as he leaned in to press a soft kiss on your forehead, then on your belly.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice filled with affection. Toge’s hand found yours, his fingers warm as they laced with yours, his violet eyes soft and full of love. He didn’t need words to tell you how much he cared; it was in every little action, in every quiet smile, and in every nacho he made just the way you liked.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[magicshopaholic]

Words Unsaid (Jungkook x OC)

Summary: Jungkook has something he wants to ask you, but the timing just never seems to sit right.

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Genre: Fluff

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 7.3 K

Warnings: none

A/N: This took longer than expected to post (but a surprisingly short amount of time to write). Savour it, for the angst will be back in full force next fic :D Takes place a couple of weeks after Unfinished Business and can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32 @ggukkieland @bangtannoonalvg @pb-n-juju @juciu @jeoncookie-bts @quarter-life-crisis2 @dreaming-with-happiness @meirkive  @faearchives @margopinkerton @sumzysworld @purpleseoul7 @kflixnet (italics cannot be tagged. If you want to be added to the taglist, drop a comment or ask)

Listen to: "thinking out loud" by ed sheeran

jungkook masterlist | main masterlist

The sun is near setting when lunch comes to a natural end. Namjoon places his credit card on the bill out of habit and, somewhat conscious that it’s not just the two of them here, Jungkook drops his on top of it.

“All good, kid.” Namjoon good-naturedly flicks Jungkook’s credit card off the bill just before the waiter picks it up.

Feeling Lia’s eyes on him, vaguely amused, Jungkook feels his ears heat up and quickly pockets his credit card. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?” he asks, desperate to change the topic.

“Not much.” He shrugs. “Probably pick up some stuff at this store we saw earlier today, then maybe a walk down the Han if it gets cooler…” He turns slightly as Kaya returns to her seat, fluffing out her hair a bit.

“Seoul has never been this warm, has it?” she remarks. “I’m glad I cut my hair before I came here.”

“It should rain soon,” answers Lia, in her accented English. While her grasp on the language hadn’t necessarily been a surprise to Jungkook, the way it sounded - and how much he liked it - definitely was. She hadn’t ever spoken much English around him, for there was never much of a need, but when Kaya visited and they’d finally met, Jungkook discovered he was obsessed with her English accent. It made her sound older, unattainable and - ironically – more Korean.

“Maybe it will,” says Namjoon, nodding and looking out the glass windows at the sunlight.

“Maybe it will while you’re walking down the Han river,” points out Jungkook. 

“Looking forward to it.”

“Oh, that reminds me - can we make a detour home before we head to the market?” Kaya asks him. “I need to pick up my power bank. My phone’s almost dead.”

Namjoon nods. “Sure. You guys need a ride?” he asks Jungkook and Lia.

“Oh -” They exchange a look, for they were dropped by a company car after Jungkook finished filming a promo. “Actually, yeah,” says Lia, nodding. “We also need to stop by, uh, Jungkook’s house for a minute. You’ll want to change, I guess?”

Jungkook nods mutely, his neck getting hot again. He avoids Namjoon’s eyes; the older member’s subtle questioning a couple of days ago, about how serious is this getting, had been one thing. That, coupled with the abrupt way he and Lia had stopped talking when Jungkook had returned from the men’s room earlier during lunch, made him uneasily conscious that something was still unsaid.

They head out of the restaurant, waiting until Namjoon’s car is brought out by the valet before ducking inside quickly, Kaya in the driver’s seat and Namjoon in the passenger seat next to her. Jungkook notices a few phones out in the open and pointed towards them as they drive away.

“See you tomorrow!” Lia waves at them as they drive away from the porch of Jungkook’s building in Hannam-dong, where his new penthouse sits tucked into the top floor. As the car disappears around a corner, both of them turn around and head inside together.

In the lift, Jungkook watches the numbers increase, his hands in his pockets and his bottom lip between his teeth. The words are there, somewhere, in moments at the tip of his tongue and in others, so far away that they may as well be someone else’s.

“Hey.”

He’s jerked out of his reverie. “Yeah.”

Lia is looking at him, frowning slightly. “Everything okay? You’ve barely said two words since we left.”

“I’m fine,” he answers as the lift stops and they step out, the doors opening right in front of his apartment. “I just, uh…” He pats his pockets and pauses. “... forgot my keys. I think. Shit.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she mutters easily, reaching into her small sling bag for her own keyring and selecting the shiniest one. “This is when it helps to have a spare set with someone else,” she points out.

Jungkook nods sheepishly and steps aside so she can unlock the door to his home. “Actually, Lia…” He takes a deep breath as Namjoon’s face swims to the forefront of his mind, the familiar raised eyebrow and chin tilted upward that, irritatingly knowing but unwilling to give him the answer. No, he would want Jungkook to come up with the answer himself. 

He clears his throat as Lia pauses. “Yeah?”

“Um, I was wondering -” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Just say it. Say it. He makes the mistake of glancing at her again, her raised eyebrows and - to his slight anxiety - hopeful expression.

Shit.

“Would you, um… do you think you would you like to…” 

Come on now, Jungkook, Namjoon would say sternly. Say it already.

“... try a beef bulgogi tonight? I know we usually do pizza on Sunday nights but I saw this recipe online and I really wanted to try it. Plus, we won’t even have to shop - we have that fillet in the freezer so part of the work is really already done, if you think about it…”

He’s rambling, he knows, but it’s only to try and distract himself from the annoyance at himself as well as the brief but clear disappointment in her expression. Her shoulders fall slightly and she bites her lip, turning back to the door and pushing it open halfway.

“Beef bulgogi sounds great,” she says finally, looking up at him after a moment’s hesitation, and giving him a small smile. “Thanks.”

He follows her inside, still deflated. Lia goes straight to the fridge for a bottle of cold water while he heads into his room, shedding his t-shirt on the way. Turning on the bathroom light, he grabs his facewash from the wall-mounted shelf, half-stocked with haircare products, face scrubs, masks, serums and a tub of scrunchies and claw clips. A Dior perfume he’d gifted her earlier this year was also there next to his own Calvin Klein cologne. 

Realising he’s been staring at her belongings for over a minute with emulsified facewash on his face, he quickly scrubs it off and hurries out, passing by her chest of drawers next to the closets. 

Jungkook wishes he wasn’t such a coward. He wishes he had the exact right words and that his mouth moved on its own to deliver the message to her. She’d helped him set up the apartment when he’d moved in last month; most of her belongings are here, she returns here more often than not after work, half the groceries in the pantry are stocked by her. She has a set of keys, she uses his extra parking space - but none of it matters as long as it’s still Jungkook’s house. 

In the kitchen, Lia is standing by the counter with a bowl of watermelon in front of her, scrolling on her phone. She looks up when he enters. 

“I cut the other half that was in the fridge,” she informs him. “Rest of it is inside.”

He swallows. “Thanks.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he would do without her. The house feels far too big and empty when she isn’t around and he wishes there were some way for her to get that message without him having to spell it out.

But if you do spell it out, comes Namjoon’s voice again, what’s the worst that could happen.

She could say no and then I could die, he thinks, shuddering.

He stands on the opposite side of the counter and leans over to examine the pink fruit. Lia raises an eyebrow and pops a piece into his mouth. 

“Wow. Sweet,” he comments, voice slightly muffled. 

She half-chuckles and nods, going back to her phone and taking a piece as well.

Say it. But is this really the moment? Does there need to be a moment? What would that moment even look like? What would she want that moment to -

“Kook,” says Lia, slowly placing her phone down. “I was thinking… I’ve been coming over here after work the last few days. And I’ll probably be here tomorrow as well, so…” She bites her lip.

“Yes,” whispers Jungkook breathlessly. If Lia were to ask the question - nothing like it. No chance of rejection, no scope for awkwardness. Of course, if any of the guys got wind of the fact that she had been the one to ask, they wouldn’t let him live it down, especially Jimin. Suddenly, he half-hopes she isn’t asking.

“Do you think it would be weird if, you know…”

Holy shit. Screw Jimin and his opinions. Despite a crappy first date a year ago, if this is really how far they’ve come since then, he should consider himself the luckiest man in the world. Unexpectedly, Jungkook’s heart begins to race. 

“… if I went home on Monday evening? It’s been a while and I have an important meeting on Tuesday and all my blazers are at home so in a way, I have to…”

Jungkook nods mutely, barely hearing her, for his heart is hammering so loudly he can hear it in his teeth. It occurs to him that Lia might have been anticipating the same question and subsequently felt the same disappointment, and it only serves to make him feel worse.

“… take my car, too. Jungkook?”

He looks up warily, irrationally worried his shame might be written on his forehead for her to see, possibly triggering her to pull the plug on this entire thing, this whole relationship, to save herself the embarrassment of dating a silly pop star who can’t string six words together -

“Hm?”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he chokes. “Thanks for the, uh, the fruit.”

Lia raises her eyebrows, but there’s a flash of knowing in her eyes. Not wanting to decipher it, for there’s no telling where his mind will take him, he shakes his head slightly and leans forward, kissing her on the cheek.

It doesn’t end there. Later that evening, Jungkook is still reeling from his horrendous inability to pluck up the courage to ask his girlfriend a simple question. The general mood between them seems to have gone back to normal, somewhat, but it nags at the corner of his mind.

They are heading to the executive floor gym in his building, accessible only to the handful of residents on the top floor, when another opportunity seemingly presents itself.

It’s a glorious workout in one of the best gyms in the country; in fact, Jungkook is rather upfront about it being one of the main reasons he chose to buy a property in this particular building in Hannam-dong. Towards the end of a particularly difficult set of reps on the bench press station, Jungkook looks up to see a face, upside down and hovering above him.

“Shit!” he gasps, gripping the barbell tightly so it doesn’t fall on him. 

Eunwoo grins. “What’s up? Wasn’t expecting to see you here today.”

“I could’ve died,” points out Jungkook, sitting up and giving him a friendly dap. “No, Lia wanted to work out, too, and it’s been a, uh… somewhat stressful day.”

“Yeah?” Eunwoo, also sweating and glowing, looks around the gym with his hands on his hips. “Lia is here? Oh, there she is…” He nods at the treadmills where she’s jogging fast, AirPods in and the rest of the world shut out.

They chat for a bit about nothing in particular, catching their breath. Somewhere during the conversation, while they’re at the water station and filling up tiny glasses with fruit-infused ice water, Jungkook wonders if the time has truly come to pick another’s brain. Eunwoo is a good friend and they’ve known each other a while, but it would be the first time he’s actively confided in someone else about his love life. From his experience, it could go either way.

While he’s pondering this, Eunwoo nods and flashes a smile at something over his shoulder.

“Hey, guys.” Lia walks over and pours herself a glass. Her skin pale and glowing, her cheeks flushed lusciously. The ends of her high ponytail stick to her damp collarbones and Jungkook bites his lip without thinking, ridiculously attracted to her at the moment.

“Noona, do you agree with JK’s plan of building a home gym?” Eunwoo asks, seamlessly continuing their discussion. “It’s going to be so much maintenance of equipment,” he tells him, shaking his head.

“Really?” Lia turns to Jungkook, frowning. “When did that happen? I thought you were happy with this gym.”

“I am - and I’m not planning on building a home gym,” he clarifies, suddenly anxious with both sets of eyes on him. “I was just discussing the merits of possibly having one.”

“Such as?”

“Well… privacy, for one. I know the building has good security but they're also fairly lax with allowances,” he points out, not wanting to specify the incident last week that had prompted this train of thought, when he was half-certain he’d spotted someone pointing their phone at him and Lia. 

“Allowances? You mean guests?” Eunwoo wrinkles his nose. “They don’t allow guests in here.”

“Yes, they do.”

“No, they don’t. They don’t allow anybody but residents in the gym.”

There’s a brief but painful pause following his words. 

“They do, actually,” says Lia.

“I don’t think so.”

“Yes, they do,” adds Jungkook tightly, glaring at Eunwoo and moving his eyes deliberately in Lia’s direction, hoping to God he’ll drop it.

Eunwoo frowns slowly, apparently working this out. “What?” he mutters, shaking his head at Jungkook. “No, I’m just saying… wait, how are you so sure?”

“Because I’m technically a guest,” says Lia lightly.

“You are?” Eunwoo raises his eyebrows. “But I thought you were - oh.” To Jungkook’s horror, a blush creeps up his friend’s face. Lia goes still next to him and it takes every ounce of Jungkook’s strength to not turn in her direction.

For the next few seconds or so, the three of them stand there in silence, scarcely making a movement. 

“Excuse me? May I?”

“Yes! Of course, of course -” Jungkook immediately blurts out while Eunwoo practically trips over himself to take a step back and make way for another patron. 

“I’m going to stretch and cool down for a bit,” says Lia, touching Jungkook’s shoulder. “How far along are you?”

“Oh, I still have a bit to finish,” he answers, a bit apologetically. “I was going to box for a bit before ending with cardio.”

“That’s fine, I'll just head back h- uh, to your place and shower… if that’s okay?”

Not least because she hasn’t needed to ask such a question in months, Jungkook nods wordlessly. She gives him a small smile and moves away, and Jungkook watches her leave before turning back around to see Eunwoo giving him a look.

“Shut up,” he mutters.

Eunwoo chuckles as they head over to the boxing bag. “Man, I am so sorry about that. I really thought you’d asked her to move in with you - I thought part of the reason you bought a new house was because you wanted her to move in. You were asking about bathrooms with his-and-her sinks, man. What happened?”

“Okay, first of all, I only asked if you’ve ever seen one in real life - not that I wanted one,” he corrects immediately, strapping on his gloves while Eunwoo gets behind the bag, ready to hold it. 

“And the other thing?”

“I’m working on it,” mutters Jungkook, going into stance and holding his hands up. “I just want to do it right. Make sure it’s a good time, that I’m not hurrying anything - that kind of thing.”

Eunwoo hums and nods. “Well, if it helps, she didn’t seem freaked out. If anything, she looked a little annoyed.”

Jungkook freezes. “She did? She looked annoyed - wait, really? Are you serious?”

His eyes widen. “Wh- no. Not - not annoyed like that. Not like a pissed off annoyed, more like a… like a chill annoyed.” When Jungkook says nothing, he shakes his head. “You know what? Don’t worry about it. Maybe it is too soon. Or maybe it isn’t,” he amends quickly. “What do I know? You know my last three relationships lasted, like, four months each - so I’m probably not the best person to be giving you any kind of advice.”

“That’s the most airtight thing you’ve said so far,” mutters Jungkook. “Alright, I’m coming in.” Waiting a moment for Eunwoo to grip the bag, he cocks his elbow back and punches it.

—

Despite his deadly faux pas, Eunwoo had inadvertently provided Jungkook with a rather helpful bit of direction. Perhaps it is time for him to lean on a friend for advice, but Eunwoo was also right that he is not one of them, not with his flighty flings and lack of depth in them. The advice matters and so does the friend, prompting Jungkook to ask himself: which of his friends is the expert on the opposite of short-term flings?

“Namjoon hyung!”

Namjoon stops in his tracks at the sound of his name and turns, waiting for Jungkook to catch up with him. 

“Oh, thanks,” says Jungkook, taking a cigarette from the pack Namjoon offers him and leaning forward so he can light it. “Thanks for getting us the evening off, by the way.”

“Kaya is leaving this weekend,” is all Namjoon says in response, shrugging.

“Right.” Jungkook nods, taking a drag and blowing it out, wondering briefly if he should care that they might be seen smoking right outside the Hybe building. “Won’t this make you a couple minutes late, though? If you want to make the best of the next few days?”

Namjoon chuckles. “I don’t want to smoke inside the house.”

“Uh-huh. Speaking of which…” He exhales, suddenly nervous. “I was hoping for some advice.” He clears his throat. “Regarding… relationships.”

Namjoons raises his eyebrows but says nothing else. “M-hm.”

“I have reason to believe,” he begins slowly, “that Lia might want me to ask her to move in with me.”

“Okay.”

Jungkook pauses, searching his leader’s face for a hint. Finding none, he continues. “Well… I want to ask her. But I also don’t want her to feel like I’m asking her just because she wants me to ask her. And I also don’t want to mess it up.”

“How would you mess it up?”

“I don’t know… maybe I’m completely off track and she doesn’t want to move in with me at all? Maybe she thinks it’s too soon?”

Namjoon nods, hearing him out. Then he shakes his head. “Well, personally, I don’t think that’s the case.”

“What isn’t? You think she wants to move in?” Jungkook’s momentarily relief is interrupted by a horrifying thought. “Oh, my God - did she say something to you? Yesterday, at brunch, when I went to the men’s room?”

“Jungkook, you were gone for two minutes.”

He’s about to argue but stops himself. He knows Lia and she is hardly the type to secretly vent her feelings to his friends behind his back, hoping it will get back to him. No, she’s more straightforward than that.

Somewhat satisfied, he takes a different turn. “Okay, let’s get down to it, then. How did you ask Kaya to move in?”

“Well…” Namjoon frowns thoughtfully. “Actually, I didn’t.”

“You… what?” Jungkook squints. “Wait, so… you didn’t ask? You both just knew, telepathically, when to start living together?” he asks incredulously, thinking privately that it could just be believable.

“No,” says Namjoon patiently, chuckling again and flicking some ash off his cigarette. “I didn’t ask because I didn’t have to. Where else is she supposed to live when she comes to Seoul? Where am I supposed to live when I go to see her?”

“Yeah… okay, but… well, would you say you live together?” he presses. “Or do you just, like, crash at each other’s place when you visit?”

“Well, we definitely don’t crash at each other’s place,” he mutters. “Maybe we did right in the beginning? I guess I’d say we live apart, but it’s only because we have to. I don’t know - when she came to Seoul for work last year while I was in service, she stayed at Hannam even though her aunt lives in the city, too.” He shrugs. “If that helps.”

“Huh.” Jungkook considers this. “So, like, do you guys ‘go home’ or do you go back to ‘your place’?”

“Home,” he answers casually, not skipping a beat. “Even her apartment is home. ‘Home’ is what you make it, to a large extent. It’s a place of comfort - an apartment is only part of that,” he says wisely. “I feel more at home in her studio apartment in London with her than at Hannam by myself. The people make the home - and that’s for you to decide.”

Jungkook stares, feeling his cigarette burn away in his hand. “That’s really not the kind of thing I’m looking for, hyung,” he states, before dropping his face in his hand.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and stubs his cigarette on the tray atop the trash can next to him. “Don’t overthink it,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Go about it logically: she’s been your girlfriend for six or seven months now, you bought a new place which is significantly bigger than your old one and she’s in her thirties, meaning she’s most likely thinking long-term.” 

Jungkook gazes at Namjoon’s raised eyebrows, quite certain he’s meant to pick up some meaning out of this. “So…”

“So… if you’re worried she might say no…”

“Chances are… she probably won’t?”

Namjoon grins and nods. “Exactly. Just be yourself, be genuine, be honest - and remember you’re both together for a reason. And I think - I think - she has a thing for you, too,” he adds seriously.

“One can only hope,” he mutters, albeit slightly mollified. “I really don’t want to mess this up.”

Namjoon observes him - for too long. For a moment, it seems as though he’s about to say something that makes Jungkook’s stomach jolt unpleasantly, but at the last second, he shakes his head.

“Impossible to mess it up. Honestly,” he says reassuringly, and Jungkook almost believes him. “It’s a part of the journey and if you think she’s expecting it, just take the plunge. Don’t add unnecessary pressure by trying to make it perfect.”

While the last bit simply isn’t in Jungkook’s DNA, he nods anyway. 

—

“Damn it.” 

Lia doesn’t look up from the email she’s writing, despite Dal’s repeated exclamations from the kitchen. Finally, he sticks his head out around the door.

“Did you know the faucet is leaking?”

“Yes,” she mutters, still not looking away from her screen.

“And did you know it’s dripping out of the sink zone and onto the floor?”

“Yeah?”

“And did you know it’s fucking disgusting?”

Lia sighs and finally turns her head to glance at him. “Yes, I know. I mopped it up this morning.”

Dal steps out, frowning. “So this much water leaked in the last six hours?” When Lia nods, he sighs heavily and trudges into the living room, falling onto the sofa. “I suppose we can text the landlord but I don’t know what good that will do.”

“Probably as much as it did when we told him about the seepage in the bathroom ceiling.”

“Yeah. Didn’t realise the kind of shoulder strength you need to baste upwards.” A moment later, he chuckles. “Helped that there were three of us there, though. Jungkook was really looking for any excuse to be around you back then, wasn’t he?”

Without meaning to, Lia feels a smile creep up her face at the memory. “It was cute,” she says, slightly defensive. “And we really needed the extra hands, especially to clean up.”

“Oh, sure.” There’s a comfortable silence, the only sound being the clicking of Lia’s keyboard. “Speaking of,” he speaks, and his tone is slightly different, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

Lia doesn’t look up, but she’s certain she knows where he’s going with this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You haven’t been around much.”

“You think so?”

“M-hm. In fact, I was starting to wonder if you’d moved out or something and I missed the memo.”

“You were still paying only half the rent, though, weren’t you?”

“Lia.”

“‘Sup.”

From the corner of her eye, she sees a movement and ducks out of habit.

“Lee-lee,” he says again, and she finally meets his gaze.

“I know what you’re getting at, and no,” she says dryly, “no updates on that front. I’m still your roommate for the foreseeable future.”

Dal raises his eyebrows. “Okay.”

Lia turns back to her laptop but doesn’t resume her typing. “What?”

“What what?”

“You’re still looking at me.”

“No. I’m just looking in your general direction.”

She gives him a look. “Just say it.”

“I thought you were moving in with Jungkook.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because he told me last time he came over that he wanted you to move in with him.”

Lia scoffs. “No way did he say that. Liar.”

“Fine, he didn’t use those exact words,” he admits, rolling his eyes. “But he just happened to mention that his new place is bigger, that the gym is fantastic, that it has a really good running trail or something…”

“Maybe he was just making conversation?”

“... and how much closer it is to the Hybe office.”

He works at Hybe, too, technically. The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she can’t deflect anymore; Dal will see right through it. She sighs and puts her laptop away.

“What do you want me to say?” she asks steadily. “We aren’t living together. It’s not the end of the world.”

“I’m not saying it is, at all.” He holds up his hands. “Do you want to, though?”

Lia is silent for a moment. “He needs to ask first. But… yeah, I guess. Could be fun. We’ll save on a lot of fuel.”

“Ooh, stop, I’m swooning.”

She flashes him an embarrassed sort of smile. “You know what I mean. We basically do live together already - but this is a big deal for Jungkook. He’s never done the long-term relationship, adult couple milestone thing before. The last thing I want to do is scare him off.”

Dal nods thoughtfully. “Well, hopefully it’ll go better than your last adult couple milestone thing.”

She snorts, covering her face. “Hey, to be fair, I did move in with him,” she points out. “Kind of.”

“You lasted less than a month before you were back here.”

“Yeah. God, he was such a manchild. Can’t believe I was ever attracted to him.”

“I told you he had an asshat kind of face. But you didn’t listen. Didn’t he have a shrine to his ex-girlfriend in the bathroom or something?”

“It was a couple of bottles of her shampoo and lotion, not a shrine,” she corrects him, “but, sort of. He was so blown away when I asked him to get rid of it - like, sue me, I don’t want to live with my boyfriend and sentimental haircare products belonging to his ex. It just goes to show, you never know enough about your partner until you actually share a living space together.”

“You think there’s more to Jungkook? Because I like him for you, honestly. But he seems to be a more…” Dal grimaces, trying to find the word, “... what you see is what you get… kind of person.”

“That’s a good thing,” she remarks. “Means there’s no lying, no games. None of that shit.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, it’s good you know what you want. How long are we planning to wait for him to pop the question?”

“We are not waiting for anything. I, on the other hand…” 

It’s a good question, unfortunately, one that Lia has deliberately tried not to think about because there’s simply no correct answer.

“... will take things as they come.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She narrows her eyes at her oldest friend, recognising both teasing masking genuine concern. “I’m not going to pressure Jungkook. And I’m not going to get my hopes up either,” she states, trying to ignore the quiet tugging at her heart and standing up, stretching.

“Hey, just say the word and I will -“ Dal makes a flailing kind of gesture and flexes his triceps, “- whip him into shape.”

“Oh, really? Not only will it probably be evenly matched, but who’s going to help you both carry cartons of beer into each other’s houses if you’re both maimed?” She taps her temple sarcastically.

“Well, you’ll be a resident in one of our houses at any given time so I guess we’ll be looking at you.” Dal shrugs in satisfaction as Lia chuckles and starts heading inside her bedroom, considering a shower before bed.

“Oi, Lia.” 

Lia turns in her doorway, recognising the subtle change in tone once again. It wasn’t surprising that Dal and Jungkook got along easily enough; despite her boyfriend’s initial reservations, most of which were based on Dal’s gender and inopportune timing, he had eventually moved past it to begin actually enjoying his company. Oh, he would never admit it, but Lia had woken up more than once in her own bed, alone, while hearing two male voices laughing in the living room with the television on.

As for Dal, the only thing he had needed to say was “Lee-lee, for once, you’ve found a good boy.”

Therefore, while Lia prefers to handle her relationships herself, she recognises the value of her oldest friend’s opinion.

“I just want to let you know,” he begins seriously, and she feels the muscles in her face go slack. He bites his lip. “I just wanted to let you know,” he repeats, “that if Jungkook has a shrine to his ex in his house, you can always move back in here.”

There’s relief, and Lia doesn’t want to admit there’s relief. “Shut up,” she mutters, turning back around as Dal laughs at his own joke behind her.

It’s not the greatest comfort, but Lia uses it as such after that. Worst case, I move back in with Dal, she thinks. We stay roommates until we’re eighty, when either I die first from stress about work or he does driving his car like a maniac. Jungkook brings a carton of beer to the funeral and shares it with whichever one of us is still alive.

It’s a mildly depressing train of thought, especially when she imagines her eighty year old self heading back to her apartment while seventy-seven year old Jungkook, in his infinite wisdom, still hasn’t asked her to move in with him.

Nearly a week later, Lia has successfully kept her desires to herself, while Jungkook has continued trying to pretend he isn’t thinking about it just as much.

“Remind me again why we’re going to this club?” she asks him as they walk to his car in the basement parking. “It doesn’t really sound like your scene.”

“It isn’t,” he admits. “But the DJ tonight is a friend of a friend… of an acquaintance, who’s also kind of an ex-colleague.” He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t normally go but he helped me out during the production of my debut album and I accidentally told him I owed him.”

“Ah. Mistake number one.”

“It might be. You look quite club-ready for someone who doesn’t really enjoy clubs either,” he remarks, playfully smacking her backside. “Leather pants and everything.”

“Faux leather,” she corrects, leaning over and bumping his hip with hers. “I figured I may as well look the part of a popstar’s girlfriend. Plus,” she adds after a moment, as they climb into the car and begin strapping in, “it’s the only party outfit I have at your place.”

Predictably, Jungkook freezes for a moment before clumsily buckling himself in. He doesn’t meet her eyes and swallows as he looks ahead.

“By the way, I hear the gin martinis at this club are to die for,” he declares, completely transparent. “Did you know, the martini is one of the top five drinks people order on a first date?”

Abrupt subject change coupled with a random fact that doesn’t sound completely true; Jungkook is nervous. It’s exasperating and endearing all at once.

“That’s… interesting. Maybe you should’ve invited your single friends tonight. Or if this DJ is an ex-colleague, at least the ones in your group.”

“What, all two of them?”

“Isn’t it three?”

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook shrugs as they pull out of Hannam Hill. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know. Yoongi hyung isn’t very forthcoming about his dating life and I’m too afraid to ask.”

Lia chortles as they turn into the main road, reaching for her party clutch for her phone, when she realises…

“Oh, no,” she mutters under breath.

“What?”

“I, uh…” She bites her lip, internally swearing at herself. “I was moving stuff from my regular bag to the clutch and I forgot… you know what, can we make a quick detour to my apartment? It’s on the way.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. If you take a right after the signal then you can take the parallel road to the church at the end of my street.”

“That’s not the same road - and come on,” he whines, his shoulders falling. “I don’t want to take a detour. What did you even forget? Power bank? Because my phone is fully charged.”

“It’s not a power bank - look, it��s kind of important, Jungkook. It’ll take, like, five extra minutes.”

“But -”

“Kook!”

“What? What did you even forget that’s so important? Is it make-up or something? Because you look -”

“It’s tampons, Jungkook.”

“It’s -”

“Tampons,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to stop at a drugstore because they may not have the exact brand that I use and most of the others chafe… down there.”

There’s a few seconds of silence while Jungkook stares out of the windshield as the car zooms down the road, his ears turning red.

“Which signal was it again?”

True to her word, they reach her three-storey apartment building a few minutes later and jog up the stairs together.

“I swear, I just need to pick up a couple of extras,” she promises him. “The last time I was caught without any on me and then I had to borrow one and it was just the worst time I - oh, my God!”

Lia gasps as she stops in her tracks in the doorway of her apartment, Jungkook right next to her. 

“Is that -”

“Water,” she sighs, shaking her head. “Shit, it came into the living room? I thought we fixed that damn leak,” she mutters. She places her hands on her hips and looks up at Jungkook.

“Well?”

Jungkook looks blank. “Well… what?”

“Well… I’m going to have to wade in there,” she says slowly, already dreading it. “Do you want to come?”

“Ordinarily, I would love to because that sounds so fun, but these are Balenciaga.” He raises his right leg to show her his shoes, mimicking her position until Lia looks away.

“Alright. Wait here then,” she tells him, before gingerly placing one heeled foot into the water and cringing in anticipation. It reaches ankle deep, missing the hem of her pants only due to the height of her heels. With no specific attachment to her shoes, she takes a couple of more hesitant steps.

“Ugh, I can hear the faucet dripping from here,” she grumbles. “Sure you want to just wait out there?”

“Totally. You’re doing great, though, baby.” He grimaces as she walks further in. “Is it cold? It looks cold.”

“No, it’s room temperature. I’m just glad it hasn’t reached the sofa or the cushions or anything in the - whoa!” Lia grabs the arm of the chair beside her as she slips, thankfully saving her ankles as her knee breaks the fall.

There’s a sound of splashing before Jungkook is right next to her a second too late. “Shit, you okay?”

“Uh, yeah. No injuries, I think.” She twists to see him kneeling next to her. “What happened to your Balenciagas?”

It seems to have occurred to him only now. “Oh…” He looks down at his shoes, now submerged. “I can try blow drying them, probably?”

“Probably.” She tries to hide a smile before giving up. “Take them off before they get any more damaged, though.”

He takes her advice this time and they both rid themselves of their shoes, tossing them on the chair before splashing their way into the kitchen.

Jungkook whistles. “Wow, that’s some leak,” he remarks, following her as she falls to her knees to get a good look at the thin but steady stream of water spilling from a crack in the pipe. “Is this the only leak?” he wonders out loud before pressing his hand against the crack so the water suddenly stops.

“No, there’s a small one here, too,” she answers, squinting at something on the other side of the pipe, a little higher up. “It’s only a few drops out of this one but it’s still bad enough.”

“Maybe we can -” Jungkook grunts and tugs at the pipe, “- wrench it into place? To block this crack?”

“Doubtful. It’s a really old pipe, too, so I’m afraid it might break.”

“It’s metal - can metal break?”

“I mean… yeah? I guess? Look, it’s all rusted up here.”

“Oh, yeah…”

In his effort to look, Jungkook’s hand slips off the crack and the flow of the water resumes. 

“Okay, this can’t go on - we need to block this for now so we can get rid of this fucking flood,” she decides, noting in worry how the water level is slowly rising. “And I’m calling the landlord tomorrow and giving him a piece of my mind.”

“Um -” Jungkook looks around from his position by the pipe. “We have a towel, some flour and stuff… maybe we stick some dough onto it?”

“Worth a shot but I don’t know if it’ll hold till tomorrow. Maybe we should try moving the pipe,” she admits, holding the top of it and wondering if it’ll work.

“Okay, let’s do that. Worst case, we find a plastic or metal box, cut it in just the right dimensions to cover the crack and fix it around the pipe.”

“Worst case.” 

Jungkook waves her over and they grip the pipe together. “If this goes south, just remember that I love you.”

Despite the chaos and the fact that her faux leather pants are damp and disgusting, Lia snorts. “Shut up, you dork. Come on, let’s do this.” Both of them pull the top part towards the lower one to try and close the gap.

“A little to the left, come on…”

“It’s - not - moving -” Lia bites her lip and jerks the pipe back, accidentally slipping again and falling back onto her boyfriend. The jolt makes Jungkook tip over and the pipe twists on the rust, bursting.

“Oh, my - “ Jungkook’s words are cut off when a jet of water hits him square in the face. Lia gasps and reaches for the pipe as he fumbles, sputtering, and lunges towards the pipe to turn it away.

“Jungkook, no! It’ll break if you -” 

But Lia is cut off as well and almost knocked backwards by the force of the water. It’s everywhere now; her clothes, her hair - she’s fully drenched. Next to her, Jungkook looks like he’s been dunked into a lake, his long thick hair sticking to his forehead.

“Take cover!” he yells, pulling open a cabinet behind him with one hand and yanking something out, while the other hand covers the jet of water uselessly. He replaces it with the lid of a cooking pan and tosses her another one which splashes into the water next to her.

“Thanks! I - Jungkook!” She brandishes the utensil while trying to dodge the water. “It’s a sieve!”

“What?”

“It has holes!”

“I can’t see! Wait -” He crawls towards the cabinet but slips midway, swearing loudly. 

“Careful!” She ducks and tries to get to the pipe but feels him grip her forearm and pull her back.

“You’ll hurt yourself!” he yells, handing her another pan. “Jesus - how did you guys let this stupid faucet get this bad?”

“I told you - our landlord is a jackass who ghosts us if we bring up fixtures!”

“Well -” Jungkook pauses, wincing a little as the water continues to ricochet off the pan he’s holding up. “In that case, this is probably as good a time as any to ask you this, but do you want to move in with me?”

Lia almost swallows a mouthful of tap water. “What?”

“Just - I mean, this apartment is unlivable!” he says loudly. “And I’m a much better landlord! And also -” He gags and spits out some water, “- I love you and all!” He shrugs awkwardly, drenched to the bone with his oversized t-shirt sticking to his shoulders and chest.

Lia tries - she really tries - to keep a straight face, to attempt to understand what goes on in Jungkook’s head. But it’s a lost cause, for at the end of the day, whatever it is, it just works. Through the irritation at her landlord and the general shock of being waterboarded by a broken pipe, she sees it. A shine in his doe eyes, a hint of nervousness. 

She doesn’t realise immediately why the water hits her suddenly with force or why Jungkook’s eyes widen belatedly.

“What are you doing? The water is - oh.” The anticipation turns into the beginnings of a smile when he works out why she has knee walked all the way towards him and he stands on his knees as well, just as she reaches him and places her arms around his neck, and kisses him.

When she pulls away, he’s grinning. “That’s a yes?”

“That’s a thank God you finally asked.” 

Jungkook nods sheepishly. “I wanted it to be perfect, honestly. I was just waiting for the right time and -” He sighs, shaking his head so droplets of water fall from his hair.

“You know what? I think this, unexpected as it was, is pretty perfect,” she says honestly. “So… I guess that’s a yes,” she clarifies, meeting him in a kiss once again.

There’s a muffled sound and then a splash, followed by a gasp.

“Oh, my God! What the fuck?”

Jungkook jerks away, pursing his lips. “As long as he is never allowed in our house,” he declares, glaring and pointing in the direction of the living room.

She gives him a look. “Pretty sure you’ll crack before I do on that front,” she guesses, just as Dal appears in the doorway of the kitchen, looking incredulous.

“What the fuck happened in here?”

“What do you think? That damn faucet,” she snaps, pointing at it. “This is the landlord’s problem now - he and his insurance can handle it.”

“I agree, but - God, are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we were using lids…” Jungkook picks his up and places it in front of the stream of water, much more unfazed about it now than he was before. 

“Lids? Why didn’t you guys just turn off the water?” Taking a long step across the flooded kitchen floor, he reaches for a panel behind the left-most cabinet and twists a lever - and the water stops.

Speechless, Lia turns to look at Jungkook who is looking back at her with equal dismay. “We thought of dough before we thought of turning off the water,” he mutters, shaking his head.

“And we’re taking it to the grave,” she replies, squeezing his hand.

He’s wet, his designer clothes ruined - but Jeon Jungkook is glowing. A moment later, he squeezes her hand back.

“Deal.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don’t forget to leave a review :)

[tumbleweed-run]

Still

Gale/Reader 2nd Person POV

You serve as a cock warmer for Gale back home in Waterdeep.

(Warning: cock warming, creampie, and breeding kink(vague but added for safety)

“Gale,” a whine escapes from you against your will. If you had any sense left you’d be ashamed of how needy you sound, but sense had abandoned you long ago. It feels as if you’ve been like this for hours

“A little longer,” Gale coos distractedly into your ear. Despite his words, he keeps writing with no sign of stopping. 

Despite the fact it isn’t particularly a warm day a thin sheen of perspiration has coated your entire body. Wearily, you drop your head onto Gale’s shoulder and focus on the sounds of the wave crashing below the balcony. A breeze dances across your naked skin, teasing relief for just a brief moment before the air is still once again. You inhale shakily, allowing your eyes to drift shut as you try to relax. Every muscle in your body is drawn, taught with the effort it’s taking not to move. 

Gale seems oblivious but there’s no way he truly could be. (gods you hope not) The only thing that gives him away is his cock, rock hard and buried deeply inside of you. The rest of him seems unaffected and focused on whatever it is he’s writing. Unlike you, he’s fully dressed, only the placket of his trousers is undone, allowing his cock to nestle inside of you.

It’s not painful but gods, do you ache. He feels impossibly deep, as if your bodies have settled around each other and yours has drawn him in further than he’s ever been. There’s a burn deep inside your belly, too, and your half convinced the second Gale begins to move that you’ll come immediately. You want to move so badly, it wouldn’t take much to just rock against him. You’re finding it hard to think of anything else. 

At first, you’d tried teasing him. Fluttering your cunt around his cock in an effort to distract him, but Gale would have none of it. His only acknowledgment of your efforts was a quick pinch to your nipple before dropping his arm down around your waist. He might not be holding you down, but the promise is there if you were brave enough to try moving on him. The closest your daring had gotten was a shiver as you realized. 

So you sit, aching and trying desperately not to whimper as the only movement from Gale is the gentle sway of his arm as he writes. 

You don’t even notice when it stops at first until he drops his quill. The sound like a bomb in the silence. Somehow your body manages to tense even more in anticipation. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” Gale praises softly in your ear, his voice rumbling his chest at your back.

Your body trembles. You’re not sure if it's from anticipation or exhaustion. 

“What do you want my love?” He asks softly, the hand from around your waist gently smoothing up and down your stomach. 

“To move,” you’re nearly begging. 

Gale laughs. “Since you were amazing, how about I move?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, instead both of his hands drop to your hips as he gently rocks his own upwards. Realistically you know he can go no deeper but the movement alone is such a relief that you almost sob. It doesn’t take much - only a few more thrusts and his hand dipping down between your folds. His fingers barely brush against your clit before you’re sobbing loudly as you come. Gale holds you tight against him, rocking you through the waves of your orgasm. 

Once they subside, your body becomes lax, your muscles no longer willing or able to hold you up. Gale isn’t deterred. Instead, he grips onto your hips and lifts you slightly - beginning to fuck into you in earnest. He’s chasing his own orgasm now, each stroke upwards is simply for his own pleasure. And you allow him body limp, head lulled back onto his broad shoulder jostling with each movement. The slick sounds of his cock pistoning in and out of you fill the room, drowning out even the sounds of the waves below. 

It should be degrading, the way Gale’s using your body. 

You love it. 

“So perfect,” he grunts into your ear, “so perfect and soft for me.”

Everything you know about this man tells you he’s close. From the rippling of his stomach against your back, to the way his moans are punched from him. You’re entire body is bouncing with each thrust, his hands move behind your thighs opening you wider for him. Gale comes with a thrust so hard that his entire chair scrapes against the floor as it moves with the force. You can feel him spending into you, warm pulses paint your insides. You can’t do much but whimper as he pins you against his thighs as he fills you. 

“So perfect,” he whispers this time, a few minutes later as your skin cools in the evening air, “you are so perfect.”

[plutoenjoyer]

Hii, how do you think the members would react when they realize that a friend of their crush also has a crush on her? I hope you understood me 😣

hi anon!!! thank you so much for being my first request<3 so sorry this took so long 😭 i hope you still enjoy though its so so late !!!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

xdh — finding out about a friend's crush on you (+ confessing)

genre: fluff as always, light angst (i love to see a man in emotional turmoil) tags: drabble, ot6, female reader, jealousy/light possessiveness?, pining, starting as friends, friends to lovers, reader is shorter than them, confessions warnings: none note: reader is some sort of employee or person that works in their building or around the area for added context ... they see you often even if not directly working with them basically (vaguely gestures). and the friend is kiiiind of rude anyway so he doesnt deserve your time in the first place

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

gunil — tries to be respectful, succeeds. (and then fails)

perhaps he's very comfortable in his role as "the responsible one" as the eldest of the group. he tries to embody a role-model for his bandmates when he can, there's a very caring and deeply responsible part of him that naturally comes out. he is not known for being selfish. that being said, when he finds out one of your friends has a crush on you there is a deep urge in him to find you immediately and just confess all the feelings he's kept buried in him for months. it bothers him like mad, because he knows that he shouldn't get in the way of anything or anyone you might be vying for. what if you felt the same way about that friend? what if he made it difficult for you to choose him after confessing? what if he ruined his friendship with you when you didn't feel the same way? there were just so many uncertainties and not enough safety for his comfort, so he chose to suffer in silence, as he was used to doing.

there was a familiarity in being alone with his thoughts that he wasn't sure if he could find the courage to leave behind just yet.

he sits with this feeling for days. he tries to convince himself that he's simply content to see you at all, and wants to be happy for your happiness, though it is so clear to his bandmates that he's not his usual self lately.

it's not until he sees you with said friend that he can't help himself anymore. he hated that you were laughing with him, but he hated his lack of conviction more. he makes up his mind to tell you as soon as he gets the chance because the fear of rejection meant so much less to him than watching you get taken from him right before his eyes without doing anything about it.

and you—you're none the wiser about it all until gunil confronts you that night as you're heading home. the intense look on his face is something you've never seen before, passionate and desperate underneath the warm ambient light of the dimly lit room. it illuminates his face in a way that strikes through your heart. you always found him to be attractive, but tried not to let your feelings unfurl further since you knew that there was not a chance he'd feel the same way, not with all the projects and people he manages on a day to day basis. he was just too busy for romance. but right now in this moment, the way that his eyes are narrowed with a seriousness that you haven't seen from him before sends a shiver up your spine. and not just towards anyone, towards you.

he steps closer to you. you're basically backed up against the wall, your heart beating out of your chest. he's so close you finally get a good look at how his dark eyes are trying to find something in yours—answers. you can't help yourself from putting your hands on his chest and bicep to steady yourself.

"i... i have something to tell you." he speaks so lowly and so desperately it mixes in with the sound of his sharp breaths.

you can barely hear him because all you can focus on is the gentle curvature of his beautiful lips. he notices this, because with his hand he pulls your chin up in order to angle your face to meet his eyes, forcing you to see what sort of distress you've put him through.

for the first time in a long time he's wanted something, no, someone for himself, and you're about to find out what.

jungsu — tries to be respectful, fails immediately

jungsu is the sweetest guy ever. he's always looking out for others and wants the best for him. after finding out about your friend's crush on you, though, something takes over him. you wonder why he's suddenly being so much more attentive and sweet, way more than normal. comedically and somewhat pathetically (in a sopping wet dog with glassy eyes kinda way) offering to carry your things, buying you sweets, praising you—it was even a little much at times. you were starting to get a little annoyed, not because you didn't like it but because you were wondering why the hell he started acting like this out of nowhere.

it's not until you're out shopping with him that you start to connect the dots. you run into the friend-in-question and he sparks up a conversation with you, both of you completely unaware of the growing panic and jealousy growing in jungsu's mind.

to your surprise, the usually soft-spoken and patient guy interjects whatever you two were talking about and grabs your hand, hastily pulling you away into some other random store. at first you're worried that you did something to offend him, but then you notice the embarrassed pout on his face as you two slow down near some unassuming accessory store. he's chewing the inside of his cheek, wondering what possessed him to be so rude (he knows exactly why, he just couldn't stand watching you two get along and got swept up in his emotions). the people already in the store make some shifty glances at you two, some of the aunties even shaking their heads, going 'gosh, another lovers quarrel', but it doesn't reach your ears by how hard you're trying to figure him out right now. he has no explanation for himself, simply looking aimlessly at the assortment of necklaces on the racks and refusing to meet your eye. he doesn't let go of your hand.

"i-i'm sorry, i just ..." he's struggling so hard to find the words. he really should just come out and say it but that would mean confirming his feelings for you right here and now, and there was no way you'd accept considering what reckless thing he did just now. "you ... i just didn't want ..."

a beat of silence, and then a resounding 'oh' pops into your head as you finally realize that it was actually your friend that was the problem for him. you smile at his shaking visage. how cute.

what happens next is in your hands, the same ones that are fit so perfectly in his warm, nervous palms. you're glad the group of aunties left before you could do this.

the air feels electrifying. you pull him closer and stand on your tippy toes and he's watching you do this so adorably but it doesn't compute in his head until he finally feels the plush feeling of your lips against his, and suddenly he feels right again. this is what he's been waiting for this whole time.

gaon — gets clingy

jiseok has always been physically clingy. he shows his love and affection by quite literally hanging onto you, through hugs or wrapping his arm around yours. it is very casual and very natural for him to do that with people he loves. emotionally, however, he's a bit more withdrawn than expected. he likes his alone time. he likes you more. but, he is so painfully unaware of it. so when he finds out that your friend has a crush on you, the petty side of him that simmers at the surface of his mind really comes through without him doing it intentionally. it becomes an increasingly common occurrence for you to receive a text from him that goes along the lines of "are you busy friday? :)", or "there's a new movie i wanna see, can we hang soon?" because he thinks you'll genuinely enjoy what he had planned for you, and not because of any other reason.

this, of course, is his way of getting you away from that guy who's trying to get with you. honestly, he thinks he's boring and won't treat you right. there's really no one in your circle that he deems worthy for you.

you're more than happy to spend time with him. but it starts to get to a point where you're wondering 'what are we' when he starts to get a little more clingy, more so than his usual friendly self. his hands linger a little longer on yours, his eyes seem to follow your every move and he's smiling at you in a way that holds so much adoration that your heart starts beating faster.

when you text him that you can't hang because you feel bad you keep blowing off the friend-in-question, who had asked for your time today already, he sulks like crazy. he knows he shouldn't be so childish about it but it sucks because you're his best friend and you're wasting your time on him and he's going to confess to you and then you're gonna start dating each other and then you'll get married and go away forev—oh. oh man.

he quickly grabs his jacket and runs to your place before you can even think about leaving for your outing.

you see him show up to your front door and almost collapse to his knees, leaning an arm on the frame of your front door. "what the hell— jiseok?! are you okay?" and he's heaving so hard he can barely speak, "yeahi'mfineILOVE. YOU. ohgodmyribs. DON'T. GOTOHIM. i just. foundoutiloveyou. stay. right here". you can barely believe what he's saying, not only because he's huffing and puffing, but because you really had no idea he felt the same about you. the silence worries him because he looks up to see your confusion, or worse, hesitance, and through his labored breath and takes your hand in his. on one knee as if asking for your hand in marriage, "stay with me. please," and you can't help but laugh when it finally all clicks. this is such a dramatically jiseok way to profess feelings to someone. you're definitely gonna bring this up again.

but for now, with a bright smile, you give his hand a reassuring squeeze, "come in. let's get you some water."

o.de — kicks himself into action

finding out is a wake-up call to him. he kicks himself for getting complacent. it's not that he didn't think other guys would be into you or anything, just that he didn't think it would happen so soon. he put off his feelings for you constantly because he feared ruining things between you two, but now that there was another guy in your radar it meant that he had to be on high alert. he immediately starts thinking about the best way to confess to you, and fast because who knows if this guy is going to sweep you off your feet out of nowhere.

he's trying to plan something grand and a little cheesy because he thinks, no, knows that you deserve to be appreciated. he would yell his love for you from the rooftops if he could. he's thinking about it so much that you stop hearing from him for a couple days. his absence lingers in the air around you and you start to wonder why it feels so heavy without him around, because wasn't he just a friend?

you get your hopes up when your phone pings with a text—but it's not from seungmin. there's a dull ache in your heart when you see it's from the friend-in-question. you're disappointed but don't want to take it out on him, so you say yes to dinner. you go with him, and clearly he's trying to make a move on you by spoiling you with a nice meal and compliments, but you just can't get your mind off of seungmin and what he's doing right now. you end the date, which was more just like him talking at you, by rejecting him. you're wondering if he was just friends with you to try and get a chance with you, and it hurt a little.

then, it happens. your phone buzzes as you're about to leave the restaurant. it's seungmin. as soon as you pick up he sounds out of breath and desperate. "where are you right now?!" and you answer honestly, about the date and how it ended, and how you missed talking to him. "stay right there, i'm coming."

he picks you up from the restaurant, having drove there in a hurry. there's roses and chocolate on the dashboard as if he were going on a date himself and you know immediately who it's for by the look on his face and the slight sheen of sweat like he'd been worried sick about something.

there's not even a moment that passes while in the car before you both can't help yourselves anymore, having the first real taste of what you two felt for each other, sealed with a kiss.

junhan — withdraws himself

junhan has always been quiet, but you were starting to love getting to have late night conversations with him about life itself, your place in the the universe and who's your favorite character in dungeon meshi. he seemed to open up when he was around you and you loved getting to pick apart his mind. you felt that you both were able to keep up each other's intellectual abilities, and it was refreshing.

so when he suddenly reverts back to the shy personality he had when you first met him, you know something's wrong. you're trying to figure out how to confront him about it without making him curl back into his shell even more.

in his mind, on the other hand, he's doing you a favor. after finding out that your friend has a crush on you, the one that is so much more extroverted and good at holding up conversations, he thinks its best that he takes a step back so he wouldn't be taking up space in your life that could be reserved for your friend. he throws himself into work even more so than before, using it as an excuse to avoid you so it doesn't hurt as much when you inevitably start dating that stupid guy. but that doesn't mean he stops watching and analyzing, watching to see if that guy really, truly was good enough for you.

and of course, he wasn't. call it intuition or just plain logic, junhan noticed how he very often seemed to talk over you. it bothered him to know that there's a possibility that you'd be happier with your friend, but it bothered him more to think about you unhappy with him, because at least junhan would actually notice if you were.

that wouldn't do at all. while junhan is very rational he absolutely does not mess around when it comes to you. the friend-in-question is busy chatting away while you're forced to listen to him. you think he's a nice guy, but he was the type of person who was more used to talking at someone rather than to them. you never really felt heard when speaking to him, unlike with junhan who took every word you said into account, making sure you knew your thoughts mattered to him.

junhan, with tingling fingertips and an audacity that could only be stirred up by the thought of losing you, calmly walks up to you two. you wouldn't have guessed it took all his courage to ask "can we get drinks tonight?" and you're over the moon at the mere suggestion, "is that even a question?! of course, i haven't seen you around in ages!". your eyes light up with excitement, unable to stop yourself from excitedly rambling about how you really wanted to talk about some new manga that dropped during his absence. junhan smiles at you, half because he knows this feels right, like you both were meant to be together in this moment, and half because he loves the way that guy's stupid grin drops when he sees how happy you are to see him.

"so it's a date?" junhan says with a radiant smile, almost as if the guy standing next to you didn't exist. he was enjoying taunting this guy a little too much, he thinks to himself. your jaw drops a little at this unexpected confidence, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't want it to be. and so you shoot a quick, very obviously awkward glance at the so called 'friend', thinking about who you knew would treat you right, and turn back to say:

"it's a date."

jooyeon — makes it everyone's problem

when jooyeon finds out about your friend's crush on you he cannot stop from complaining about him to his bandmates. jiseok rolls his eyes hearing the groans from jooyeon, going for the millionth time this week that "he's just not right for her" and "he's not even good looking" and "she's way out of his league!" to lying in bed upside down with his head hanging off the edge groaning into his palms, "but what if she likes him though?! do you think she does?! is that why she hasn't been around lately? aghhhh, girls are so confusing. this sucks. wanna play league?" in which jiseok replies with a sigh, "dude, you could just text her and figure it out for yourself right now." and leaves before his head explodes from how much of a baby joo gets when he's frustrated about something.

when he's finally alone, jooyeon gets to sit alone with his thoughts. just pure and utter him, not the shining jooyeon on stage with his bass, and the thought of you, beautiful and kind, and how much he misses the sound of your pretty laugh. you're constantly on his mind. sometimes he finds himself idly smiling about some dumb text you sent him or the one time where you tried singing along to his strumming and it wasn't good but you gave it your all. it was just so you. you're his friend, yes, but he didn't realize how he felt something so much more for you until the idea of you not being around him anymore became a very real possibility.

the thought of you not being in his life wasn't even in the question for him. it breaks his heart to think of such a thing happening, that he wouldn't be the one making you happy but some other, boring, loser of a guy ... but he doesn't let the others know that part. deep down he's more insecure than he lets on. whatever exasperated complaining he lets out barely scratches the surface of the sort of emotional vortex swirling in him at this very moment thinking about you dating someone else.

when he sees you he makes it so unbelievably obvious, everyone around you two is betting on the moment that you finally realize. you're wrapping up your lunch together when he brings it up. "stoooop hanging out with him, he's boring and he only plays fps games, i mean come on," he's basically begging you like a kid.

you snort at him, "and you know almost every pokemon. he's not doing anything wrong, we all have things we really like." you're saying this to defend your point but in reality you also thought it was annoying that that was all he talked about with you and didn't seem to care about what you liked at all.

"yeah, well." jooyeon grumbles, pitifully tucking his head into the crook of his arm, leaning onto the table. he doesn't make eye contact with you, just pouting cutely. "heard he likes you, too... he's not special." the last part is almost unintelligible from the way he buries his head further into his arm as he says it.

that piques your interest. "oh? what was that? after the first part?" you know exactly what you heard but you just can't help yourself from teasing him.

"'ts nothing."

"joo." he refuses to meet your eyes but you see the tips of his ears reddening.

"i gotta get back to practice."

"joooooyeon. lee jooyeon. jooyeon of xdinary heroes. did i hear correctly? 'he's not special?'"

he's already walking off.

"joo, you know i'm going to the same place as you!" you shout after him. quickly, you shove your things into your bag and catch up to his rather hasty speed. you're giggling because you can read him like a book. that cute little pout on his face is all you need to see before you go to grab his hand mid step. he jolts a bit, not expecting your touch, before he eases into it and finally looks you in the eye.

"you ..."

shifting your hand so your fingers interlock, you smile at him, looking him in the eyes with earnest, "i like you, too."

in a few moments he's trying to stay cool and ends up failing miserably by how the corners of his mouth refuse to stay still. he can't help himself from breaking into a grin at those words. he would get to it later, be able to grandly profess his love to you like how he had imagined it going in his head, but for now he was content with this. simple and happy with your hand enveloped in his larger one.

it's by no means a scene out of a drama, but it was perfectly enough for the two of you.

(later that night jooyeon is so completely over the moon about being chosen. it feeds his ego BAD. you have to take him down a peg by telling him how he hasn't really properly confessed to you yet, and you are very entertained by how he stutters and struggles to say it to you directly after such a grand display of confidence. oh, joo ...)

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