#i’m going to be adding some more muses to my list i believe

[htsdfferent]

:)

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.3 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, fluff, 2000 rom com vibes, making out, flirting. drinking, swearing, crying, sweet pining Jungkook, Jungkooks past comes up (boooooo), ex situationship thingsss, its a sweet chapter and they make out and I love it, legit the easiest chapter I have written so far ❥word-count: 10.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Day 3

“And you really believe this guy is going to work for this?” Yoongi said, looking over your notes and layout of the entire plan you had.

“Absolutely sir.” You nod. 

It was the Tuesday following you and Jungkook’s date. You two had gotten some dinner and then you went home. You tried not to let that text ruin your mood but it did bring you down for the meal. You and Jungkook just talked more about what you do and things you liked. Just easy conversation and sharing social media, small things that you could mask your disappointment with and give cheerful and in depth answers. 

That text sucked to see. It sucked to see that he made this promise to be serious but he was just playing you. To be fair, you didn’t know him. It was your first date and he didn’t owe you anything. It would just make this easier. 

"Already past the first date. You’re jumping in head first." Yoongi mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what’s next?"

"The plan is to keep things moving. I only have thirty days, so I wanted to start strong. The first date was just to break the ice. Now, I'm aiming to stay in touch throughout the weeks—get more involved and annoying to make sure I stay on his radar." 

Yoongi chuckled. "And what does annoying entail in this case?"

You grinned, feeling a mischievous spark. "I was thinking some things like being a little too clingy. Getting a bit too personal too soon. Social media stalking, maybe even acting overly sensitive to anything he says about 'dating' or 'us.' Just... trying to inch my way into his daily life, so he can’t quite shake me off. Then next week I will take things to the next step."

Yoongi nodded in approval. "I like it. Thorough and unexpected, just what we want. Let’s round back around next week and check-in. We’ll go over your progress and adjust as needed. You’re off to a good start."

You gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, sir."

With a wave of his hand, “Now go write, be amazing.” Yoongi dismissed you, and you returned to your desk, your mind already spinning with ideas. You were ready to dive into this full force, but there was one small snag, a small but persistent worry. You’d sent Jungkook a quick text yesterday, just a light “good morning” and a note about enjoying the date, but there hadn’t been a reply yet.

It wasn’t a big deal but already not responding to a text after a whole day was not sitting well with you.

Settling yourself down into your chair, that small disappointment from seeing that text on Jungkook's phone was still nagging at you. Your friends had warned you not to get attached, to keep things light, but you’d ignored them. They called this from a million miles away and you, like an idiot, let your guard down like always. 

Well, not this time. This was just a job. No more emotional slip-ups. 

“Damn it, I’m a writer.” You mumbled under your breath. “This is just research. He’s just a random guy.”

With renewed determination, you opened your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as you drafted the first section of your article. Reliving the details of your first date, you kept it light and short because this wasn’t about how the first date went great, it’ll be about everything that happens now. You had your plan ready for action.

You were finally hitting a flow, words forming exactly as you wanted, when you heard footsteps stop just outside your cubicle. 

“Special delivery!” Ann, one of the front-desk clerks, appeared with a bright smile, holding a small bouquet. "Someone’s got an admirer!"

She set down a small bouquet of sunflowers. The choice of flower surprised you most of all, you loved sunflowers. They were tied together with a purple ribbon and card attached to the end. Opening it, “A little bit of sun for a rainy first date. Thank you for listening to my fish facts. JK.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Ann cooed, lingering a moment to admire the flowers. She shot you a wink before heading back to the front, and you tried to keep your reaction composed.

You couldn't help but feel that small spark of joy, despite yourself, as you read the card. The sunflowers, your favorite, were unexpected and so charming. Tied with a cute ribbon that added a touch of thoughtfulness. You’d never been given flowers by anyone other than your parents and that one college boyfriend. Yet here they were, sent to your office, just for you.

If this had been any other situation, you’d probably be blushing and grinning like an idiot, falling head over heels way too fast. But the reminder of what you knew—what he was likely doing, the kind of guy he really was—kept you grounded. 

As you stared at the bouquet, lost in thought, the telltale squeak of a chair wheeling over caught your attention.

“Wow someone’s special.” Ronnie rolled right next to you. “Are those from who I think they are from?” 

 "Looks like it." You replied casually, flashing her the card. "Just… a little thank you gift."

Ronnie waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, just a thank you gift? The guy sent you your favorite flowers, after only one date. You sure you aren’t already planning your future house décor with him?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your laptop, brushing off the teasing. "Maybe," But the flicker of disappointment crept back in. "If he hadn't got that text on our date. Then maybe this would be a sweet gesture. There's no way I'm getting attached to someone who’s probably chatting up another girl at the same time."

Ronnie gave you a skeptical look. "You still haven’t told me what it said, just that you went from mildly hopeful to permanently sour about him. Especially after you begged me and Jin to let you pick another guy before the date even ended."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was… friendly , if you know what I mean."

“Oh, friendly friendly?” She echoed, her voice heavy with implication. She winced sympathetically. "I’m sorry."

You shook your head, swiveling to face her. "No, no. We’re not doing the whole pity party thing. No look at Y/N she got fooled by another asshole again. This is work.  I knew what I was signing up for with this guy, and it’s why we chose him. I can handle it."

Ronnie raised her brows. "Yeah, sure. You sound totally fine."

“I am fine.” You insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s all part of the assignment, right? A totally detached, unbiased observation. Think of me as an objective researcher.”

“Okay Dr. Detachment. How are you going to respond to these?” Ronnie glanced down to the flowers and then back up to you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but paused, glancing at the flowers. You already knew what you wanted to do, but still… you weren’t quite sure how to play it yet. 

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was still buzzing from his own bold move. He and Hoseok were walking down the street on their lunch break, and Hoseok eyed him suspiciously. Jungkook filled him on the details with a little too much spring in his step, never a way Hoseok had ever seen Jungkook act after a date. 

“So… the date went that well, huh?” Hoseok finally asked, giving Jungkook a smirk. “You’re practically skipping.”

“Hey, I am not. ” Jungkook grumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he filled Hoseok in on the date. It had gone smoother than he’d expected, and he couldn’t ignore that spark of excitement. 

Jungkook had done a little social media stalking when he spent the day with his parents yesterday. You used a sunflower in your bio and in a lot of your posts, so he took a guess that they may have been your favorite flower. It did take him a little tracking down though, since sunflowers were going out of season. 

Hoseok grinned, giving Jungkook an approving nod. “So… flowers and a corny note? You’re going for gold.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m hoping she liked it. She’s into romantic movies and such so I thought it would be a good gesture.” Plus it was a perfect opening note since sending flowers is another classic romantic movie troupe. “She should have gotten them by now.” He checked his phone yet again, his screen still frustratingly blank.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, “Does it bother you that she’s not immediately giving you all of her attention.” 

Jungkook snorted, “No.” He paused but the silence between them hung a little too long for Hoseok to be convinced, “Okay maybe a little.” 

Hoseok let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Wow. Didn’t know you were secretly a heartthrob under all that cool indifference. Who are you, and what did you do with Jungkook?"

“Shut up.” Jungkook muttered, fighting a smile as he looked away. “I’m just… giving this a real shot. Like I said I would.”

“And you’re stressing out over whether she liked your flowers or not.” Hoseok added, raising an eyebrow. “Must be a real first for you.”

Jungkook shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought I’d make an effort, alright? ” He glanced at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Why do I feel like the grand romantic gesture wasn’t entirely about the bet?” Hoseok chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s not because I’m actually dating her remember?” Jungkook replied, a little too quickly, then caught himself. 

“You know,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “there’s no law that says you can’t text her first, right? Might even make you seem… interested.”

Jungkook scoffed, his gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I don’t want to look desperate.”

“Dude, come on. Desperate is sending $50 sunflowers in November.” Hoseok replied, laughing as Jungkook scowled.

Jungkook sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I just really enjoyed spending time with her. It’s different.”

“So shoot her a text, lover boy.” Hoseok urged, hit Jungkook lightly on the back of the head. “All the smooth moves in the world won’t matter if she doesn’t know you’re into her.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed just as Hoseok delivered his advice, catching him off guard. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen. His eyes lit up, and a grin broke across his face—so wide and giddy that it almost unnerved Hoseok.

“Speak of the devil.” Jungkook muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

 Jungkook fumbles with his phone and steps off to the side to answer, “You’ve reached Sunflowers on the Go. How may I be of service?” 

You hum on the other end of the line in amusement, “So it’s the strangest thing. I got this delivery of sunflowers here on my desk but I don’t remember placing an order.” 

“Hmm, strange indeed.” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Turns out we only deliver to Composure magazine. No one else.”

What Jungkook wasn't aware of is you had him on speaker phone so Ronnie was also able to hear him. She brought her hand to her face at his cheesy responses. You also shook your head at absurdity. 

“Oh, is that so?” You teased. “Well, there was a little card attached… signed by someone named ‘JK.’”

“Yep, that’s the guy. Don’t know him personally, but he seems pretty cool.” Jungkook said, leaning into the joke. Looking over at Hoseok who was drawing hearts in the air around Jungkook, Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone named ‘JK’. Guess I’ll just have to throw these away then.” You play with the ribbon in your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s mean!” He protested, laughing. You laughed as well at his protest.

“Okay but seriously how did you know these were my favorite?” You touch one of the petals, sunflowers were definitely out of season so he had to go to some work to find really fresh ones. “Or was it just a lucky guess?”

“I may or may not have noticed a pattern on your socials.” His tone was sheepish and you just shook your head.

“Ah, so you were stalking me.” You nod, you notice Ronnie roll on over back to her desk. Coming back with her phone in hand. She was typing frantically.

“Maybe a little bit.” Jungkook let a beat pass, “I guess more importantly do you like them?” 

“They are very beautiful. Especially for this time of year.” You sigh, the gesture really was sweet. Might be fast for Jungkook to send flowers this early on but still sweet.

Jungkook let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had even been holding in, “I do have to confess something. I was hoping this would make an opening for me to invite you to dinner.” He shifted from side to side, “Well I would be making dinner.”

“Inviting me over? Wow, bold move. So soon.” You smile, Ronnie giving you a knowing look and you brushing her off. “Would I have to do anything?”

“I will take care of it all, I need to prove I can make a mean carbonara.” Hoseok gave Jungkook a look like he had no idea he had any cooking skill. “How about tonight?”

“I have plans tonight.” Which wasn’t a lie, you were going to work on some writing tonight. “How about Thursday?” 

“Perfect. You’re gonna be impressed, I already know it.” Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I’m sure I will.” 

With some goodbyes you both hung up the phone. You could suddenly feel your heart racing in your chest and you mentally scolded yourself. You needed to remember none of this was long term. Which Ronnie was taking the lead in reminding you about.

“For someone who claims to be totally normal about all of this, you sure are smitten.” She crossed her arms and eyebrow raised observing you, “He totally knew these would work on you.” 

“I am totally normal about all of this. This is perfect, we are going on a second date and I get to start implementing my plan. Everything is on track.” You say but Ronnie is looking back to her phone, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to find his Instagram.” She continued typing, not looking back up to you. 

“Oh he doesn’t have one.” You remembered from dinner on Sunday. It wasn’t abnormal for someone to not have one but Ronnie was surprised. 

“Boo, how am I supposed to dig up dirt on him?” Ronnie slumped down into her chair. You had actually done a little digging of your own the evening before though. 

“Pretty sure that’s my job and I already did. He has twitter but he doesn’t post often. He keeps a pretty low presence online so I wasn’t able to learn much that way.” You sigh, it was actually a little refreshing although it did leave you guessing. Makes it tough to be intrusive in the next steps of your plan. “By the way, can you cry on command?”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow at your request, “I don’t but I think we both know who might.” 

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 5

Thursday arrived, you and Jungkook spent the entire day texting back and forth just talking about whatever came to your minds. You found any excuse to ask him any random question. Send him random things you genuinely thought were funny. He also had something funny to say back or respond with. So you just let that be it, just texting and talking as much as possible. 

Jungkook had spent the night before doing a practice carbonara. Watching some guy on youtube walking him through the steps. It turned out pretty good but he knew he could make a better one tonight. He got really nice ingredients that hopefully would push it over the edge. He really wanted to make a good first impression with his cooking. He had no issue inviting you over so soon after knowing you, he felt really comfortable with you already. 

He hoped it wasn’t too forward, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

He had a bottle of mid tier white wine in his fridge and he also got a red one because he wasn’t sure what you would prefer. He also wasn't sure what would pair better with a carbonara. Jungkook dressed his table up all nice, it was nothing special but a candle classes it up a little bit. Classic romantic things. It felt somewhat awkward and made him cringe but also no one else was around to see his effort but you, and you would appreciate it. 

Or at least he hoped you would. 

He then heard a knock from his front door. He thought it was a little early for you to be here but he didn’t mind, he still was making the food and he could pour you a glass while you waited. He trotted to his door, a smile on his face as he swung the door open with some gusto, only to have his features fall. 

“Channel?” Jungkook's face twisted into a confused but unamused expression, as she brushed past him into the apartment. “Please, come on in.” He said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Channel looked like she was dressed for a night out and not for a very cold November evening at that. She had her hair curled and bouncy like it usually was, and the highest heel she could comfortably wear, clicking her way around Jungkook's apartment.

“I want my scarf back,” She had her arms crossed, strolling into the apartment with ease. She had been here enough times to know where everything was. “and since you won’t respond to my calls, here I am in person.”

“Okay, you couldn’t have texted me about this?” Jungkook let his front door close and followed after her through his apartment, as she tried to look under things and around furniture. 

She laughed bitterly, “Last I checked, you’ve been avoiding my texts as well.” She continued her hunt around his space. Jungkook getting a little peeved since he spent a good amount of time trying to make his space look good for your arrival. Your arrival which would be really soon and this was not a good look for a guy as you clocked as ‘unserious’.

"I kind of have a life, you know? I can’t answer every text you send.” Jungkook kept his eyes peeled for the scarf, more than ready for this encounter to end.

“Yeah, right.” Channel’s voice dripped with disbelief as she followed him further into the apartment, her arms crossed. “I could tell Hoseok was covering for you.” She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of the dining table set for two, a soft candle flickering in the center. Her expression turned suspicious. “And… what is that ?”

Jungkook looked back to the table and then back to her, acting like it’s always looked like that. “Nothing, now where is that scarf?”

“Your place is so… spotless.” She murmured, her eyes scanning every corner of his living room, taking in the lit lamps, the neatly arranged coffee table, and the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. “Setting a mood , are we?”

“I mean, I clean often. I’m not a slob.” He replied defensively, trying to wave off her assumptions, though he could see she was putting it all together, one detail at a time.

Channel sniffs the air for a moment and then stalks over to the kitchen, “You’re cooking? You don’t cook.”

“Whenever he hung out, cooking really wasn’t a part of the schedule.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, aware that he was pushing her buttons. “I cook all the time.” 

“Oh, I see.” She replied, her tone flat but her eyes flashing. She tilted her head, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. “So, who is she, then?” 

Jungkook sighed, not fighting her anymore, “No one, and she is coming over soon, let’s find your scarf so you can leave.” 

But Channel didn’t budge, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms tighter. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not brushing this off like that. Nice napkins, a candle? You set a damn table , Jungkook. What is this, some kind of date?” Her voice grew sharper with each word, anger and betrayal clear in her expression.

“That’s not really your business is it?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, he needed to get her out of here. 

Channel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not my business? You know what’s funny? All this time, I thought maybe we were building toward something real. And now, I see you’re doing that with someone else ?” She scoffed, her face hardening. “What, you just didn’t want this with me?”

Her words hung in the air, clear betrayal laced them. Him and Channel only had a sexual relationship, it’s what they agreed upon from the start. Sometime in there Channel developed some feelings for him and after a few months asked if they could take this more seriously. Jungkook wasn’t ready for that kind of step so they ended it all together. So now this all looks really bad. 

Except, he thought, it’s none of her business if he did change his mind. He never lied to her, and he was always very clear that he did not want a relationship. He really didn’t, and this thing with you, although a part of a bet, was something he was dipping his toes into. 

“Channel, that’s not it.” Jungkook said, sighing. “I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

Channel’s face twisted in anger, her voice rising as she spat, “Oh, I get it.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking around his place with fresh resentment. “I bet you’ll dump her as soon as you’ve slept together a few more times. Because that’s what you do , Jungkook.”

He clenched his fists, frustrated but trying to stay calm. “You know, I’ve had enough of this.” He said quietly, finally spotting the scarf stuffed into a seat cushion. He pulled it out, tossing it to her.

She caught it and threw it around her neck with a sneer. “So what is it about her, huh? What makes her so ‘special’ that suddenly you’re willing to commit ?” She shot him a glare, stepping closer. “Maybe I should stick around and meet this one-of-a-kind woman. See what all the fuss is about.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her toward the door. “You’re leaving, now.”

She jerked away from his touch, folding her arms defiantly. “What? Is she going to be here soon?” Her eyes gleamed with spite. “You don’t want her to know what you’re really like?”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, gathering his patience. “No. I think she would be an adult and actually talk with me about it.” He replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “Whatever she finds out—that’s for me to tell her and her to decide. So, goodnight, Channel.”

She stared at him, anger simmering as she pulled open the door, glancing back with an icy glare. “Screw you, Jungkook.” With that, she stormed out, letting the door slam behind her.

At the same time she opened the door, you were stepping out of the elevator and onto Jungkook’s floor. You spotted a girl storming down the hallway after yelling inside a doorway, as she passed you muttering a quick “Excuse me” without a second glance. You had an uneasy feeling about her, especially as she walked away from the very apartment number Jungkook had given you. You double-checked, confirming the number on your phone with the one she had just exited, and the sinking feeling intensified.

“Jesus Jungkook. At least have some class and spread out your dates so we don’t bump into each other in the hall.” You whisper under your breath, but you still had to go through with this as if you didn’t immediately feel a sense of dread. 

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. After all, you were here now, and nothing had technically happened to prove your suspicions. So you pushed them down, knocked on the door, and tried to keep your expression neutral, reminding yourself you were maybe a minute early—nothing too crazy.

The door opened after a brief pause, and Jungkook’s face shifted from guarded to bright relief when he saw you standing there. His lips curled into a wide, easy smile, like he was genuinely glad to see you. His hair was a little tousled, his shirt a snug, tucked into jeans that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. He looked relaxed, casually put together, which was somehow infuriatingly charming.

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice warm, stepping aside so you could enter. “Come on in.”

“Hi.” You replied, acting as if nothing felt off. 

You stepped past him, letting your eyes flick around the apartment, taking in the details—the tidy coffee table, a low hum of music playing through the room. He had a nice living room set up around a TV on the wall, the dining setup with an actual candle in the center. He’d put thought into this, that much was obvious. You couldn’t deny it was sweet, even if it left you slightly off-balance, considering what you’d walked past in the hallway moments ago.

“Okay now looking at it, the candle maybe was a little cheesy.” Jungkook cringed at himself looking at the little set up. You shake your head and wave him off. 

“No, I think it's adorable. You even got a scentless one so it doesn’t cover the smell of the food.” You take a seat at the table, “I’m prepared to be wow’d like you promised me.” 

“I unfortunately got a little bit delayed so I am not quite done yet.” Jungkook was shuffling his way back into the kitchen, “But make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” You smile as he rounds his way back into his kitchen, he watches you get back up and walk around his living space. Almost like he was waiting for approval. Luckily Channel hadn’t trashed the place. 

You took note of all of the little things he chose to have on display, some books, a few polaroid cameras and some polaroid's on the walls, as well as a record collection that was lined the side of the living room on some shelves. You thumbed through some of them to see what was available. Impressed with some of his picks, some similar to your own. His place wasn’t terribly big. Classic little bachelor pad. You had noticed he had chosen to keep what you could only assume was his bedroom door closed. 

It was something Jungkook thought way too hard about, if he left it open was it like saying he wanted to sleep with you tonight? Would it be way too forward? Or was closing it just as weird? Was closing it like telling you that he didn’t really want you in his space? He went back and forth and then opted to close it to maybe say he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, although he wouldn’t mind if it did. 

You on the other hand didn’t barely give it a thought other than noticing it. You picked up one of his polaroid cameras and brought it with you. You round your way back to his kitchen and stand off to the side watching him work. He was pretty zoned in on what he was doing, everything was really smelling great. You usually found it pretty hot if a guy could cook well. 

Jungkook took an opportunity to try some of his work and you took a photo right at the moment he took a bite, his eyes widened right at the moment he realized he'd been caught.

The picture came out and you set it down to develop. 

“I’m sure that will be super cute.” You laugh, setting down his camera as well. He laughs and you look over his shoulder to see how close he is to being done.

“Coming to inspect my work?” Jungkook glances to his side, seeing you peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was almost done cooking. 

“Maybe.” You tease, “I’m a sucker for people who can cook. I’m just… okay at it.” 

“Well,” Jungkook stops what he is doing and reaches for a drawer next to him pulling out a fork and twirling some of the noodles onto it. Then holding the fork out to you. “I’m ready for your final score.”

You paused. Debating if you should eat the food off the fork or if you should take the fork. Would it send the wrong message if you ate off it? Or was that exactly what he was doing? The fork wasn’t very close to your mouth but not crazy far. You decided to just take the fork from him and take the bite. 

It ended up being really good carbonara. 

“Oh my god.” You smile chewing, “It’s really fucking good. Ten out of ten.” 

Jungkook did a small fist pump to himself, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth hiding a smile. “I’ll admit, I did a practice run yesterday and it was just okay but I’m glad this one is good.” Jungkook then took a bite of it himself with another fork. Jungkook upon tasting his own food smacking his own forehead and leaning back. 

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction. 

You glanced at the polaroid on the counter picking it up to see if it had developed yet, it wasn’t fully done but you could see mostly what the picture would look like. You showed it to Jungkook and he smiled, “Ten out of ten picture. Best one of me yet.” 

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you absentmindedly put it in your pocket. 

“I’ll admit I’m wowed, to be fair I’ve only had carbonara like one other time.” You lean against one of his kitchen counters watching him as he plates the pasta for the two of you.

“I’ll still take the high praise. Now, should we do a white or a red wine?” 

“Hmm, a red works better with this I think.” You nod. 

Jungkook tells you where you can find his bottle opener and some glasses. You managed to get the cork screw into the cork but seem to be lacking the ability to actually pull the cork out of the bottle. Jungkook finds some amusement in watching your struggle but you persist. You’ve opened plenty of wine bottles in the past, this shouldn’t be difficult. 

“Having some trouble?” Jungkook watched you try and fail to pull the cork out a third time.

“Absolutely not. The cork and I are just having a disagreement.” You shake off your hand a few times and then get a better grip on the screw pulling upward as best you can. With some pathetic struggle, you really swear you can feel the cork moving. You let out a sigh as you let it go again. 

“May I?” 

“I swear I’m not that weak.” This honestly was just embarrassing at this point, so much so you have to face away from Jungkook at your next attempt. 

You make one final grip on the corkscrew and twist and tug, finally the corkscrew and cork pop free. Not before your hand comes straight, hard and fast, into your own face.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook’s face changes as he sees you basically punch your own face. “Are you okay?” 

You did dizzy yourself slightly but you set the bottle down. Feeling your face, hoping you hadn’t broken your nose although it certainly would be bruised or sore at least, “Okay maybe I should never open wine ever again.” 

Your nose then began to pulse with pain, this definitely wasn’t a part of your plan for sure. You covered it with one of your hands but Jungkook pulled it away. “Here let me look at it.”

“Please tell me it’s not bleeding.” You groan, and Jungkook places his hands on both of your cheeks looking at it. You match his face and he looks genuinely concerned. 

“Well, I’m not a doctor but you’re still pretty cute.” He then smiles and rubs one of his thumbs on your cheek. “That’s my professional assessment anyways.”

“Okay, but it still really hurts.” You say, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. 

“Hey, it’s probably just a bit sore—no blood, no bruise.” He gently tilts your head from side to side in a silly, exaggerated inspection that makes you giggle. 

It’s quiet between you both for a moment, Jungkook still holding your face. He just looks over your face for a moment, your nose was red but it was probably going to be okay. He had hurt his own nose a few times to know if it was broken. 

Jungkook’s hands still on your cheeks, eyes meeting as he studies your face. It’s easy to get lost in the warmth of his gaze and how close he is. A little too easy. For a second, you find yourself softening, tempted by the thought of leaning in and just letting yourself enjoy this. But then, just in time, you snap back to reality, realizing you can use this little mishap to your advantage. This damage to your nose might have actually opened up a window for what you had been working yourself up too.

You pull your face away from Jungkook and shake your head, breathing in a heavy breath. Jungkook looked a little confused but then after a moment you were crying. You were crying? 

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “I was just teasing you.” 

You wave your hands in a frantic show, your voice cracking just a little. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just….” You let out a little sob. “I’m just so clumsy! And you made this beautiful dinner, and I’ve totally ruined it!”

Jungkook looks utterly bewildered now, glancing around as if the answer to your sudden breakdown might be hiding in his kitchen cabinets. “Really, I promise, you didn’t mess anything up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, almost nervously.

“Ugh, I can't believe this. I’m totally ruining the mood.” You wipe your tears away. 

It was a good little performance. One that was planned.

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The evening before.

Day 04

“The art of crying on command.” Here you were again. Ronnie sitting next to you. Jin pacing back and forth with his notepad once again. Unfortunately for you, Jin was the person to have expertise on this subject being an acting teacher. 

“Okay I already regret this.” You try to stand up but Ronnie pulls you back down onto Jin’s couch. 

“This will help you!” Ronnie protested and leaned on you once you were settled back in. “This can be a part of your over dramatic persona you use.” 

“Exactly! It gives you another tool in the toolbox for the charade you signed up for!” Jin pointed at you with his pen and waving it around. 

“Fine, continue.” You wave for him to go on and Jin grins. 

“Thank you! Now, there are three main techniques for crying on command.” he begins, pacing dramatically. “Some people can just… do it. They snap their fingers and—bam! Tears.” He snaps his fingers for effect. “Others need to go to a sad memory. Something personal and emotional, something that really tugs at the heartstrings. And then, of course, some people have to resort to…ahem, creative methods. Pepper in the sinuses, maybe a little poke to the eye…”

“Let’s please avoid self-injury.” You interrupt dryly, giving him a look.

“Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics and see if you’re a natural.” Jin says, jotting a note on his pad. “Close your eyes, focus, and let’s see if you can will the tears into existence.”

You sit up straight, trying your best to summon tears on command, forcing your eyes to feel…sad? Your face contorts into what you hope is a tearful expression, but as you blink, nothing happens. Your eyes are as dry as ever.

“Nothing?” Jin sighs and makes a dramatic strike-through on his notepad, looking deeply disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mutter. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jin strikes something out on his notepad and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “ Cannot cry on command. So let’s try a memory, or is there a movie scene you can’t think about because it gets you teared up?” 

You sit and think, you have some sad memories from your childhood that you bring to the front of your mind. Reminiscing on them, although some things are sad or bittersweet, nothing tear jerking. 

“Dry.” Ronnie leans over and looks closely in your eyes, so much so you have to shove her face away from you. 

“Dry.” Jin repeats and writes on his notepad. 

“Maybe try going to the dark place?” Ronnie snaps and looks at you. “You always get really teary eyed when you think about dying alone.”

“Okay rude.” You sigh, it wasn’t untrue. Whenever you came back from dates that were unsuccessful or you wasted your time on someone who just wanted something casual you found yourself going to, what you and Ronnie have deemed, the dark place. “I don’t like thinking about that.” 

“It’s for science!” Ronnie cheers, throwing her arms up like it's supposed to make it more fun or something. 

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch.  “I don’t know if this is such a great idea, honestly. When I start spiraling about my love life, it’s not exactly…mild.” You look down, already feeling a little prick of sadness starting to stir.

Jin comes and squats in front of you, “Well then just go to the edge of it and don’t think about the whole picture. What about dying alone usually gets you crying?” 

You think for a second, and finally, the words come out quietly. “I guess… I cry when I start thinking that maybe I won’t ever find someone who’s…just right for me.”

Ronnie lets out a soft “aww” and nudges you gently.

You let yourself feel it for a moment—the uncertainty, the nagging doubt that, maybe, you’ll keep hitting dead ends. And with that, you feel a familiar, bittersweet ache starting to well up.

Jin nods approvingly, seeing a slight glimmer in your eyes. “Excellent.” He says, jotting down, potential crying trigger identified.

The vulnerability hangs in the air, and you let yourself lean into it a little. Lately, it felt harder and harder to keep going on dates, to believe that love might work out someday. You always seemed to be either too much or not enough—loving too deeply, too slowly, too intensely. It left you feeling drained, to the point where dating felt less like romance and more like a chore.

But with Jungkook, for once, you’d felt...hopeful. Like there was someone who genuinely wanted to share a moment, who put effort into making sure you had a good time. As unintentional as it was, you’d started to feel a little spark, considering the circumstances of your forced meeting. But as soon as you’d started to believe it, you reminded yourself it was all part of the act. You couldn’t let yourself actually believe it. You got your hopes up again , and they were ripped out from under you… again . 

So you had slowly felt as time went on, you were losing sight of finding the one.  

Then without even realizing it, you had a few stray tears fall from your eyes. 

“Boom!” Jin erupted and sprang to his feet, “We have tears!”

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You gripped onto that feeling you let it force a few more tears out of your eyes. Unfortunately you did not avoid the personal injury part of the tears. So this was going really well for you. 

You take a shaky breath, letting a few more tears roll down, making sure the sniffle that follows sounds especially pitiful. “Maybe I should just go home.” You say, voice wavering. “This along with my day… it’s all just been too much. You probably think I’m completely insane.”

You manage to start walking toward the door. Jungkook then panics for a moment, how did we go from laughing at you injuring your nose to crying and saying you’re going home? He felt like he had jumped three steps or something. You start toward the front door but Jungkook stepped around you, stopping you. 

“Wait what?” Jungkook looked confused, “How did we get here? I don’t want you to leave.”

You sniff even louder, adding just the right amount of snotty dramatics. “No, I should. You barely know me, and here I am—an emotional wreck in your kitchen. It’s… it’s too much.”

“And? You just hit yourself in the nose really hard. I would be a little embarrassed and want to leave too.” Jungkook places a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Besides, isn't the whole point of going on dates to get to know each other better?”

“I guess.” You wipe your face again, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to just… fall apart like this.”

Jungkook sighs a little relieved, that could have spiraled further. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Well it’s still early, I haven't had a chance to go full blown crazy yet.” Which gets a laugh out of both you and Jungkook. 

“Well I can deal with that I think.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, the food is still good. Wine is still out and last I checked a bruised nose doesn’t stop you from eating.” 

“Wait, is it actually bruising?” You reflexively go up to touch it, definitely tender to the touch and Jungkook chuckles a little. 

“I’m teasing. It’s only a little red.” He takes your hand and pulls you back into his apartment, with a little reluctance from you. “Stay, at least for a little while. I’m not going to let you walk out of here feeling like this.”

You blink up at him, playing up a hint of uncertainty, but inside, you’re genuinely a little taken aback. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He tilts his head to the side trying to meet your eyes, that had been darting everywhere else out of real embarrassment. “Look, I don’t care if you cry, I’m the biggest cry baby I know!”

You manage a small, hesitant smile, as if he’s starting to get through to you. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Jungkook scoffs, feigning insult. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. Those ‘lost puppy finds his way home’ commercials? I’m done. I’m over here pretending there’s dust in my eyes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe I believe you… just a little.”

“There we go!” He looks genuinely pleased, his expression softening as he sees you relax. “So, if I’m willing to admit my crybaby tendencies, it’s only fair you stick around for dinner, right?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of your answer. 

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You say it with an air of nonchalance, trying to mask the small spark of mischief hidden behind your agreement. It earns you a relieved, borderline triumphant smile from Jungkook.

“Phew! You’re sparing me from a whole night of wondering if my cooking scared you off for good.” He grins, his dramatic sigh punctuating his relief.

“Oh, please.” You say, rolling your eyes, feeling the perfect opening for a light jab. “If anything, the food is what convinced me to stay.”

Jungkook then serves dinner for the both of you. You both fall into easy conversation as you eat, he really did do a great job with the food. He was very considerate of making sure you needed anything else or pouring more wine when you wanted it. As well as making you laugh at almost every single turn. You really do get it why he got girls to go home with him so easily, between this and your first date the amount of confidence and charm that exudes from him is palpable in the air. 

Jungkook would never show it but his lack of practice with dating has actually made this date and your last the most nervous he has been in a while. Jungkook’s mind is racing, carefully cataloging every response you make, every laugh, every nod. He wants—needs—this to go well, not just because he’d prefer to win $300 rather than lose it, but because, in his gut, he actually likes seeing you here, across from him. He catches himself wondering if he’s oversharing when he starts a story, or if he’s going on too long when he recounts his last trip. When you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he relaxes a bit, but he still can’t quite shake that uncertainty. 

You decided no more theatrics for the evening and let this play out naturally, how you would play out any other evening. Anything else would tip him off that maybe you were doing this on purpose. 

After a while the two of you had moved into the living room, you had been flipping through his records again, you didn’t take a chance to look at them all earlier. He had a decent collection for sure so you got a good sense of the type of music he liked. You both had a few glasses of wine now and so the conversation had turned more and more flirtatious. 

Noting the variety of music—jazz, a little classic rock, some alternative stuff. “You’ve got a good taste.” You say, glancing back at him. “This one,” you pull a record out with a slight smirk, “definitely says something about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, leaning on the side of his couch as he watches you move around his shelves. “And what exactly does it say?”

You tilt your head, pretending to give it serious thought. “That you’re trying really hard to be cool. Just edgy enough.”

He laughs, though you notice he flushes slightly, brushing off your joke with a casual shrug. “Hey, everyone needs a little mystery. Or at least…a halfway-decent record collection.”

“Is that what you’re hiding?” You tease. “A mysterious vinyl collection? Or is it just your immense amount of fish facts?”

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out.” The words slip out before he can stop them, and he immediately kicks himself. It feels too... eager, a bit too close to something genuine. But he manages to recover, putting on a self-assured smile. “Not everyone gets to see my hidden jazz albums.”

You laugh, setting the record back and looking at him with a raised brow. “Guess I’ll have to consider myself lucky, then.” Finding a spot back on the couch with him. 

Jungkook shifted in his spot so his body was completely facing you now. With the alcohol having set in, his eyes were a little droopy and he was smiling but he looked boyish. He found the more he was learning about you the more he felt fine with telling you things about himself. 

“You look tired.” You poke his forehead. “Maybe I really should go.” 

“It’s barely even late.” Jungkook takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m not tired at all.” 

“Your eyes tell a different story.” You laugh, leaning your head against the back of his couch. 

“Well what else are they saying?” He smirks, finding any reason to get a compliment from you. 

You stare at them for a minute, you were trying to come up with something clever. “Well if I am translating this right… I can’t handle my wine. ”

You laugh and Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Wow how did you know?” 

“I have a thing for reading people.” You shrug. “What do mine say?”

He leans in really close looking between them. “Wow this guy is so hot and charming I really want to kiss him again .” Jungkook then gasps dramatically leaning away. “That’s scandalous, Y/N.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and get up from the couch trying to leave, Jungkook's hand pulling you back to standing in front of him. “You’re really full of yourself.”

“I’d like to think just a healthy amount.” He grins, Jungkook then places one of his hands on the back of your thigh. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver up your spine, but you do your best to keep your cool, not letting him see just how much his touch is affecting you.

You scoff with a half smile, “We’ll see about that.” 

Jungkook's smile widens sitting forward on his couch, both of his hands finding their way to your hips. Tracing small circles with his thumbs, making it impossible for you to think. The way he looks at you—intense, unflinching, like he’s trying to figure you out—has you second-guessing your plans  all over again, just for a second. This is what makes this hard, because the way he looks at you makes you believe every single word.

Many guys before have looked at you like this and you always fall for it, you always let yourself go for it. 

It’s a little difficult to remember that right now though, your mind is clouded by the wine. 

You glance down to his lap for a moment then back up to his eyes that haven’t left yours. “Can I?” 

Jungkook just nods, allowing you to take your place on his lap. Lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Jungkook really was not intending for this night to go this way but he wasn’t complaining if it had. He would do whatever you wanted. His hands stayed planted on your hips as you found what felt comfortable. 

“You’re pretty.” He says with a shine in his eyes, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum. 

“You’re pretty too.” You lace your arms around his neck. Both of your faces are coming so close together now. Breathes intermingling for a moment, asking the same question. “You were right though.” 

“About what?”

“I do want to kiss you again.” You catch the slight hitch in Jungkook's breath at your words, the way his fingers tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your heart races. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, searching your face as though he’s almost afraid this moment might slip away.

“I’m not one to protest.” Jungkook swallows for a moment, before you took no time to close the distance between you. Pressing your lips against his soft but certain. Jungkook immediately responds tilting his head to deepen it. One of Jungkook's hands sliding up your back to bring you closer to him. The moment makes you forget everything else, as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink into it, into the surprising tenderness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his kiss. You move your hands to cup his face, relishing in how warm you are now. You felt your whole entire body heat up, and small wetness in between your legs. Oh this was not good, you cannot sleep with him this soon. 

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

He would know exactly where to touch you and exactly how to make you moan and you had very little issues with wanting to let him do that. It would be so worth it, it would be so good. Except it cannot go past this, for your sanity at least. You needed to cut this off somehow. His tongue in your mouth was making it incredibly difficult to be logical. You could feel him probably already getting a semi and you really could not stop thinking about grinding on him. 

You needed to stop though. Because this is a great opportunity to drive in that wedge between the two of you. One more way to mess this situationship up, but not ruin it completely.

As you pull away from him, leaving his lap, you mutter, “Okay… Goodnight.” You force yourself to stand, feigning nonchalance as you gather your things, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn back around. Jungkook is left blinking at you, visibly caught off guard, his hands awkwardly suspended in the air where your hips just were. He clears his throat, collecting himself as he scrambles to follow you.

Clearing his throat. “Hey… um woah… was that not good or whatever?” 

You pick up some of your stuff into your arm, “It was, it was good. It was great.” 

Oh god it was great, he was a really good kisser and your whole body was screaming at you but you fought through. 

Jungkook was confused by your answer and shook his head, as he continued to follow you, “Did… did I misread something? Because I was getting a vibe.”

You glance over your shoulder and manage to flash a casual smile. “No, you didn’t misread anything. I just… don’t usually sleep with someone on the second date. Kind of a rule.” You bite your lip, keeping the truth of it hidden.

“Oh.” Jungkook nods, a look of relief mixed with mild confusion crossing his face as he adjusts his shirt. “Right, totally. Cool cool cool. That’s more than okay and Makes sense, makes sense… you should have said something.”

“It’s a bit of a mood killer to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re not getting any,’ don’t you think?” You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

You gather your things, amused by his honesty, and start toward the door. Jungkook trails behind you, letting out a small puff of air as he stares at the floor. Then, after a beat, he glances up with a sly grin. “So… just out of pure curiosity, not trying to be weird or anything, but what date number are we talking about here? Fourth, fifth…?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, knowing full well he has no idea you’re just messing with him. “More than that.”

He frowns, looking genuinely curious now. “Sixth?”

“Nope.”

“Seventh?” He leans in closer, eyes narrowed like he’s reading the answer off your face.

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?” 

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.” 

Jungkook’s face barely changes, but you can see his jaw tighten just a little as he processes this. “Twelve… dates.” he repeats slowly, nodding as if he’s mentally mapping it out. “I mean, sure. That’s totally reasonable. Not a problem.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised at his lack of pushback.

"Yeah.” He shrugs, putting on a confident smile. “Guess I just have to plan ten more killer dates.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see them.” Jungkook then opens the front door for you. 

“You're going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?” He watches you slowly step out the door with a wide grin on your face. He finds it cute and playful, he could tell you liked the chase. 

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say in a sing song voice, giving him a flirtatious wave as you walk up the hallway to his elevator. 

Before you could get too far Jungkook decided to leave with something. Trotting up the hallway so he could catch you, taking your wrist and stopping you. “One last thing.” 

Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and then kisses you. It surprises you but you welcome him, its one of those kisses that is so passionate and it makes your knees want to buckle out from under you in response. He uses just a little bit of  tongue to send a shiver through your whole body, his hand warm against your cheek as he continues to kiss you just long enough to make you lose track of the hallway, the elevator, and everything else. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are twinkling with that trademark cockiness, but there’s something softer underneath, something that makes your heart do an unwelcome little flip. He grins, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer before letting go. “Goodnight.”

He goes back into his apartment as you retreat to the elevator. As you ride down, you let out a shaky breath, trying to process what just happened, and trying even harder to remind yourself why you’re supposed to be making him miserable. But as your lips still tingle from his kiss, you’re the one who is being thrown off balance now. This was continuing to prove to be difficult.

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Day 6

Jungkook is floating on air as he gets through his next work day. So much so Hoseok has taken notice of Jungkook's change in attitude. Really his whole attitude had been different all week. Not that he was particularly grumpy before or even usually in a bad mood, but he was just in a  really good mood. 

It was Friday night, and the familiar hum of the weekend buzzed in the air as Jimin and Taehyung once again convinced Jungkook and Hoseok to come out for a night of fun. Jungkook had been hesitant, his thoughts lingering on you. He’d been so busy lately, and while the dates had been great, there was something about tonight that made him want to see what plans you had before fully committing to the night out. But eventually, he decided he should just go—time with his friends, after all, was good too. Plus, there was that whole bet to think about, and he had a chance to subtly show Jimin and Taehyung how smoothly things were going with you.

When Jungkook and Hoseok arrived at the booth, they were greeted with their usual boisterous energy. Taehyung raised his glass, grinning widely. “Look who it is!” He said, motioning to the empty seats. As they sat down, the drinks flowed easily, and the conversation began to buzz.

However, Jimin and Taehyung had something else on their minds—Jungkook’s unusually good mood. While their conversation about random topics picked up, they were both trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in him.

“So,” Jimin leaned forward, his voice a bit more teasing than usual, “what’s going on with you tonight? You’ve been, like, way too chill. It’s freaking me out.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the sudden observation. “What do you mean?”

Jimin gestured at him with a mock-serious face, “You're usually the one trying to take the night to the next level . Trying to make things more interesting. Tonight, you're just sitting here, all calm, looking like you’re, I don’t know, at peace or something?”

Taehyung chuckled at the thought, leaning in with a grin. “Yeah, what happened to the Jungkook who was out here doing whatever it took to keep things fun and exciting? You usually make sure the whole night has a direction. Right now, you’re, like... engaged in our conversation about cyber-security. That’s... not you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but he could feel the pressure mounting. He knew his friends had caught on to something, but they didn’t know why he was acting different. “I’m just… having a good day.” His voice light and casual. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Hoseok snorted next to him and Jungkook gave him a side eye. 

“You definitely would have gotten someone’s number by now but your eyes have been glued on us or on your phone this whole time.” Taehyung added on, which was usually true but Jungkook was glued to his phone. Hoping maybe he would see another text from you, secretly. Casually, in a totally normal way. 

“So what gives?” Jimin pokes Jungkook in the arm. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shrugged and took a sip of his drink. 

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “It’s Y/N. The girl you set him up with for this stupid bet.” 

“Oh.” It all clicked into place for the both of them but it was still weird, Jimin continues.“She totally see through your act yet?” 

Jungkook was caught off guard, the question cutting deeper than he expected. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Actually,” He began, his voice softening, “No. We had a really nice date last night. There is nothing to see through, I’ve been completely genuine.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin raised a skeptical eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

Hoseok, who had been mostly observing, finally chimed in with a sigh. “He’s been in such a good mood about it all day, I’ve actually been avoiding him.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, nudging his arm. “So you were dodging me earlier?”

Hoseok shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry, man, I just couldn’t listen to you go on about Y/N again today.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing back at Jimin and Taehyung. “You guys are acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just… going well.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow, his tone a bit annoyed. “So, you’re hitting it off?”

Jungkook smirked, raising his glass. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

That earned a laugh from Jimin and Taehyung. “Yeah, right.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying,” Jungkook replied, his smirk widening, “is you two better get your wallets ready. In 24 days, you’re going to owe me big time.”

With a final grin, Jungkook set his glass down and excused himself, heading off to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok, lowering his voice. “Okay, is it actually going well, or is he just messing with us?”

Hoseok took a sip of his drink, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment before answering. “All I’ll say is… he sent flowers.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Flowers?” They exchanged looks of disbelief, struggling to picture Jungkook—who hadn’t done more than text after a night out for years—sending flowers.

“What kind?” Taehyung asked, still dubious. “If they were just roses, it might’ve been for show.”

Hoseok gave an exasperated look. “Sunflowers. They’re her favorite.”

Jimin blinked in disbelief, his jaw still halfway dropped as he processed Hoseok's words. “Sunflowers?” He repeated, as if the specific flower choice made it even more surreal. “You’re telling me Jungkook not only sent flowers but remembered her favorite kind?”

Hoseok nodded, his expression one of mild amusement. “It’s like he’s on some kind of mission. Didn’t even blink when he mentioned it either—used it as his way to get the second date they had this week.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I don’t know who this new Jungkook is, but he’s full of surprises. Sunflowers? That’s not just impressive; that’s borderline romantic.”

“Borderline?” Jimin laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He’s gone full-on romance novel, and for someone he’s been seeing for, what, a week? This has to be the longest he’s been interested in anyone, like, ever.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, chewing on his lip as he processed the surprising information. “Damn. This is serious.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a small smile, finding some pride in a changed Jungkook. “So he’s not wrong when he says you guys are going to owe him. He’s actually putting in the effort.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look, stunned but slightly impressed. Watching Jungkook send flowers, remember favorites, and put his best foot forward was new—and honestly? They both knew they might just end up eating their own words. Which made them think, was there a way for them to slow this down, make it come to a halt?

It wasn’t an insane amount of money for either of them to lose, but it was much more entertaining to see Jungkook lose. Was there something they could do to mess this up but in a non asshole way?

If they didn’t, Jungkook was going to win the bet, but it had already become much more than a bet at this point for him.

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[lightdancingwords]

Crossroads of the Heart - Part Two of ?

Pairings: CJ Braxton x Y/N Female reader

Series Summary: Y/N is a psychology major assigned to shadow CJ at The Stand, unaware he's the one who basically saved her life four years before. CJ is unaware that she's the one who left a notable impact on him over the phone four years ago. As they navigate the work at The Stand, they develop a spark that demands revelation and connection.

Word Count: 2,164

Tags/Warnings: none really, though depression and alcoholism is mentioned.

A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Evidently my muse won't shut up, so here we go! A new story in a new setting! I hope you all enjoy!

Dividers: credit to @saradika-graphics

Chapter Two: Introduction Part Deux

The Stand had the comforting hum of a place where lives were being quietly rebuilt. CJ stood at the front desk, scanning a list of volunteer and paid staff schedules and jotting notes in the margins. His sharp eyes took in the space around him—the posters on the walls, the bookshelf stacked with self-help guides, and the donation jar that always seemed to fill up faster than he expected. Every detail mattered to him. They were proof of how far this place had come.

The door opened with a gentle creak, and CJ instinctively looked up. A young woman stepped in, clutching a notebook against her chest. Her soft features and calm demeanor caught his attention immediately, though it was the way her eyes lingered on the room—taking in every detail like it mattered—that made him straighten.

“Hi,” she said, her voice smooth and warm, like the first notes of a melody. “I’m Y/N. I’m here to start my practicum.”

CJ set down his pen and stepped forward, offering a hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Welcome to The Stand. I’m CJ, the manager.”

She shook his hand with surprising firmness, though her gentle smile softened the gesture. “Thank you. It’s a privilege to be here. I’ve wanted to work with The Stand for a long time.”

Her words made CJ pause. He searched her face for a hint of familiarity, wondering if their paths had crossed before, but nothing clicked. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his curiosity piqued. “What drew you to us?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing against the edge of her notebook. “I’ve always believed in what you’re doing here,” she said carefully. “The idea that a single conversation could change someone’s life... it’s powerful. I wanted to be part of that.”

CJ nodded, his expression softening. He could see the sincerity in her eyes, the kind that couldn’t be faked. “That’s exactly what we try to do here,” he said. “It’s not always easy, but it’s worth it.”

“It must be,” she said, her voice laced with quiet admiration. “You’ve built something incredible.”

CJ chuckled, leaning against the counter. “It’s not just me. This place has been around for years. I just took the reins a while back and tried not to screw it up too much.”

She tilted her head, curious. “How did you end up here? I mean, running the place?”

The question hit a familiar nerve, one CJ had learned to navigate over the years. He looked down briefly, then met her gaze. “Honestly? I was a mess as a teenager. Alcoholism, depression... you name it. I hit rock bottom more times than I care to admit. The Stand was where I turned things around. I started as a volunteer, and it gave me a sense of purpose I didn’t think I’d ever find. When the opportunity came to manage it, I knew I couldn’t pass it up.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes filled with an understanding that made CJ feel unexpectedly seen. “That’s... inspiring,” she said. “Not many people turn their lives around like that, let alone use their experience to help others.”

“It’s not always as noble as it sounds,” CJ admitted with a wry smile. “Some days it’s just about making it to the next one. But yeah, I guess I wanted to be the person I needed back then.”

“That’s a pretty noble goal to me,” Y/N said softly, the corners of her lips curling up in a smile.

CJ cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her gaze. “Well, enough about me. Let me show you around. You’ll get to know the team and see how we do things here.”

“I’d like that,” Y/N replied, her notebook now hanging loosely at her side as she followed him deeper into the space.

As they walked, Y/N asked thoughtful questions, her curiosity evident. “Do you ever wonder about the people you’ve helped? What happened to them?”

“All the time,” CJ admitted. “We don’t always get closure. Sometimes you just have to trust that you made a difference, even if you never see the results.” He thought back to one phone call four years ago that left such an impression, he had never forgotten it. He still had that poem, framed at his desk.

“I think you do,” she said, her voice steady. “Make a difference, I mean.”

He glanced at her, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

They reached the lounge, where a few staff members were gathered, laughing over a shared joke. CJ gestured to the room. “This is where the magic happens. Well, most of it, anyway. The team’s great—you’ll fit right in.”

Y/N looked around, taking in the warmth of the space. “I hope so. I’m ready to learn.”

CJ nodded, watching her with a growing sense of respect. There was something about her presence that felt... significant. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew one thing: she was here for a reason. And whatever that reason was, he had a feeling it mattered more than either of them realized yet.

CJ led Y/N into the lounge, the hum of conversation and the clatter of coffee mugs greeting them. A handful of staff members sat around the mismatched furniture, a casual but lively energy filling the room. The group’s laughter paused as CJ cleared his throat.

“Alright, everyone,” CJ started, his voice carrying the easy authority of someone both respected and liked. “We’ve got a new practicum student joining us. Meet Y/N.”

The staff turned their attention to her, their faces warm and welcoming. Y/N offered a shy wave, clutching her notebook a little tighter.

“Hi, everyone. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice gentle but clear.

CJ gestured toward a young man sprawled on the couch with a laptop balanced precariously on his knees. “That’s Miles. He’s one of our longest-serving staffers and our resident tech wizard. If anything breaks around here, he’s the one who makes sure it’s working again—usually after some colorful cursing.”

Miles grinned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “What CJ means is, I’m the guy who holds this place together when he’s not looking. Welcome aboard, Y/N. Need any tech tips, I’m your guy.”

“Thanks, Miles,” Y/N replied, her smile widening.

Next, CJ nodded toward a woman in her late twenties, her dark curls pulled into a loose bun, a mug of tea in her hands. “This is Priya. She’s our counseling lead and one of the sharpest minds I’ve ever worked with. She runs the training sessions and keeps us all in line.”

Priya raised her mug in greeting, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “Welcome, Y/N. If you have any questions—or need to vent after a tough shift—I’m always around.”

Y/N nodded, her grip on her notebook relaxing slightly. “I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“And over there,” CJ said, motioning toward a young woman seated cross-legged on the floor, a clipboard resting on her lap, “is Gabby. She’s newish, like you, but she’s already making waves.”

Gabby looked up, her ponytail swinging as she smiled brightly. “Only the good kind of waves, though. Nice to meet you, Y/N! You’ll love it here, I promise.”

“I can tell,” Y/N replied, her tone warm.

CJ let the group settle back into their conversation before turning back to Y/N. “They’ll all be part of your training in one way or another. You’ll shadow a few shifts with Priya and Gabby first to get a feel for how the calls are handled, then we’ll ease you into taking calls yourself. No pressure, though.”

Y/N nodded, her expression a mix of excitement and nerves. “Got it. I’m ready to learn.”

“Good,” CJ said, his voice softening. “We’re glad to have you here.”

He gestured toward an empty chair near the corner of the lounge. “For now, grab a seat and get to know everyone. I’ll grab the training manual and meet you back here in a bit.”

As CJ walked away, Y/N settled into the chair, feeling the hum of camaraderie around her. Miles leaned over from his spot on the couch, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“So, what’s in the notebook?” he asked with a playful grin. “Secret plans to overthrow CJ? Because if so, count me in.”

Y/N laughed, opening the notebook slightly to show pages filled with poems, notes, and inspirational quotes. “Nothing quite that dramatic. Just ideas and notes. I like keeping my thoughts organized.”

Gabby leaned over to peek as well. “Ooh, you write? That’s so cool! Maybe you can help come up with motivational posters to put around the place. We could use some new stuff!”

Y/N smiled, her nerves melting as the group pulled her into their easy rhythm. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

From the doorway, CJ watched for a moment, his hands in his pockets. Seeing Y/N laugh with the team filled him with a quiet satisfaction. He didn’t know what her full story was, but he had a feeling she’d bring something special to The Stand. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find something she was looking for here too.

After a moment, CJ returned to the lounge, a binder tucked under his arm and a clipboard in hand. He paused in the doorway, watching Y/N laugh at something Gabby had said. It was a good sign—she was settling in already.

“Alright, everyone,” CJ called out, stepping further into the room. “I need to steal Y/N for a bit.”

Y/N glanced up, gathering her notebook as she rose. She followed CJ back to the front desk, where he spread out a schedule and the training manual.

“So,” CJ began, tapping the clipboard with his pen, “here’s what your first week will look like. Tomorrow, you’ll start by sitting in with me during calls. You’ll listen, take notes, and get a feel for how we handle things. After that, we’ll pair you with Gabby or Priya for a couple of shadow shifts before easing you into taking calls yourself.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes scanning the schedule. “That sounds great. I like the idea of easing into it.”

“Good,” CJ said, giving her a small smile. “We don’t throw anyone into the deep end here. Everyone starts where you’re starting. It’s important to understand the flow and build confidence first.”

He flipped through the training manual, showing her the sections on call protocol and common scenarios. “This will be your homework for tonight. Don’t stress about memorizing everything, though. We’ll go over the key parts during training. After all, the manual is just a tool, not something we follow precisely. Every call will be different.”

Y/N flipped through the binder, her expression focused. “Thanks. I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

CJ set the clipboard down, leaning against the counter. “One more thing. Tomorrow, when you’re sitting in, don’t be afraid to ask questions. Even if it’s during a call, jot them down. We’ll go through everything after.”

“Got it,” she said, tucking the training manual under her arm. “I’ll be ready.”

CJ watched her for a moment, sensing her quiet determination. “You’re going to do fine here, Y/N. It’s normal to feel nervous, but I can already tell you’re the kind of person who’s going to make a real impact.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

He straightened, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Alright, I’ll let you go for now. Get settled, look over the manual, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

“I’ll be here,” she said, her voice steady.

As she walked toward the door, CJ called after her, “Oh, and bring that notebook. You’ll want to keep it handy.”

She laughed softly, lifting the notebook in a mock salute before stepping out into the evening.

CJ watched the door swing shut behind her, a faint smile lingering on his face. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he had a feeling about Y/N. Tomorrow would be just the beginning, and he was curious to see how she’d grow into the role—and how her presence might shift the dynamic of The Stand in ways they couldn’t yet predict.

He sat back down, glanced at the poem he framed on his desk. The newspaper color yellowed from exposure to the light, but it was still readable. He’d made copies, even a digital copy, so he’d never lose it one way or another. He never forgot that call, never forgot the girl. He often thought of her, wondered if she was okay. If she was thriving.

He hoped, one day, she’d call again, if only to give them an update.

CJ fingered the frame, let out a sigh, and went back to work. The helpline couldn’t handle itself, after all.

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[senashenta]

Snowflakes And Dragons

Title: Snowflakes And Dragons

Pairing: Hijack

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Language. Like, so much language.

Summary: In the spring after a memorable Christmas break, Hiccup and Jack spend as much time together as possible, now that it’s okay with North. Jack admires Hiccup’s tattoos—and muses that he might, someday, like to get one of his own. But Hiccup jumps on THAT particular idea, and the next thing Jack knows the two of them are at the tattoo parlor Hiccup has been going to for years, Wayfinder Ink.

Notes: Hoooooooooly SHIT my peeps, look at me coming in out of nowhere (by “nowhere” I mean the SPN fandom) with another Biology side-fic. This is one I planned to write YEARS ago and never got around to, and then I was editing some of my old stuff and saw the listing for Snowflakes And Dragons on the Biology Master Post on Tumblr and was like… yes. Yes, I believe I shall. :|

A bit belated but have some more (smut-adjacent) RPNAU! :D Can also be read ON AO3. <3

SNOWFLAKES AND DRAGONS A Biology Side-Fic By Senashenta

It was no secret that Hiccup Haddock had tattoos; he wore sleeveless shirts as often as he could in the warmer months so the ones on his arms were obvious, and his rugby teammates could attest to the other ones, the ones that decorated his torso, all tribal designs or dragons, things that he found meaningful but weren’t particularly scandalous.

Only Jack knew about the one on Hiccup’s upper thigh, leading into his groin—a two-headed dragon spouting clouds of gas and fire. And he only knew about that one for reasons that his father would probably never want to hear about (and he would never tell to anyone else, either.)

“You keep touching me there and you’re gonna get me fuckin’ hard again.” Hiccup murmured, the arm he had around Jack tightening slightly and his hand rubbing up and down the other boy’s unblemished side. Jack didn’t have any tattoos; or the freckles or scars that Hiccup carried, either. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Jack made a soft embarrassed noise. He had been tracing his fingers along the dragon on Hiccup’s thigh, but now he paused and smoothed his hand out before sliding it up to rest by Hiccup’s ribs instead. “Sorry.”

“Don’t gotta apologize for makin’ me feel good.” Hiccup told him, tone amused. “But we don’t have time for a second ‘round. I’ve gotta get you home, soon. I promised your Dad we wouldn’t be too late.”

Jack tucked himself closer into Hiccup’s side and began trailing his fingers along one of the tattoos on the other boy’s chest, the touch almost absent in nature. Hiccup hummed but allowed it, tilting his head to drop a kiss against Jack’s snow-white hair. “How much does it hurt?” Jack asked after a moment, tone contemplative.

“How much does what hurt?”

“Tattoos. A tattoo. Getting one done.”

“Why, Frosty? You thinkin’ about gettin’ one?”

“I—yeah, actually. Maybe.” His little nerd admitted with a little shrug of one shoulder.

“Fuck me, really?” Hiccup glanced down at the boy in his arms, giving him a surprised look before settling again, his hand going back to rubbing along Jack’s side, warm and affectionate. “It’s worse for virgins.” He said after a moment, “the more you get done the less it seems to hurt. Except in certain sensitive areas.” A little smirk and he added, “the dragon one you’re so fond of stung like a son of a bitch, the closer they got to my dick.”

Jack almost winced at the thought, his fingers slowing to a stop again, his palm resting against Hiccup’s chest, feeling his heartbeat under his hand. “Okay, but say, on my shoulder? My abdomen, maybe? I dunno, I just… I was just thinking about it.” Then his voice dropped to a shy whisper, and he murmured softly; “I was thinking maybe a dragon.”

Hiccup was silent for a few breaths before asking quietly, “you mean… for me? Shit, Jack, that’s…”

“I—I know, it’s a stupid idea, really, I was just looking at your tattoos and thinking—” Jack broke off and made another embarrassed noise, then began to pull away and sit up; “but never mind. Forget it. We—we should go.”

But Hiccup grabbed at him quickly and tumbled him back down onto the bed, rolling over so he was laying on top of Jack and Jack was staring up at him with wide eyes—but ones full of complete trust. It hadn’t always been that way. “I don’t want to forget it.” Hiccup told him and leaned down to kiss him firmly. “I think it’s a Goddamn fantastic idea.”

Jack blinked up at him, eyes huge and oh-so-blue, before offering a tentative smile. There was a time, it seemed like ages ago, but it hadn’t actually been that long, when being pinned under Hiccup like this would have been terrifying. Now he was comfortable with Hiccup’s weight holding him down, relaxed. “You do?” He asked.

“Mmhm.” Hiccup kissed him again, grinning now, and then nipped at the tip of his nose teasingly. “Won’t your Dad freak out?”

“Well… yeah, probably.” Jack admitted, but then added, “but not if I don’t tell him.”

A laugh at that, and then Hiccup ducked down to kiss along Jack’s throat, pausing at the crook of his neck to lick there hotly. “If you get it on your shoulder, it’ll probably hurt less than if you get it on your abdomen.” He informed, “but I think it’d look fucking hot on your abdomen…”

Jack considered that while beginning to squirm as Hiccup’s lips trailed along his shoulder, then down across his chest—and the punk bit down on one of his nipples, making him arch with a gasp. And they weren’t supposed to be doing this again, Jack really did have to get home, but apparently Hiccup had changed his mind on that particular fact.

Dragging one hand up, Jack threaded his fingers into Hiccup’s hair, tugging gently, not actually a protest, just a gentle reminder. Hiccup had been licking into his navel, but paused at that and sighed, then sat up and settled on his back beside Jack instead, both of them already half-hard again.

“Look,” Hiccup told him, wrapping an arm around Jack’s shoulders and ducking in to nose by his ear, “come with me to my tattoo place, they’re fantastic. You can look around the shop and decide for sure. Sound like a plan?”

“I know they’re fantastic, I’ve, uh, seen their work.” Jack let his eyes flick down the length of Hiccup’s body and back up again. “But… yeah. I think that sounds good.”

“Great. We can go on the weekend.” The punk grinned sideways at him, “but for now we have to get dressed and get you home.”

Jack reluctantly agreed. It was a school night after all.

The next couple of days passed the same as always for Jack, school routines, lunch with his friends in the cafeteria and watching after-school rugby practices just to cheer Hiccup on. Meals in the morning and the evening with his dad. Hanging out with Hiccup after dinner, at his house or at his boyfriend’s, though if they were at Hiccup’s place they had to be careful because his father still didn’t know about them.

Sometimes they had sex at Hiccup’s house—fucked, as the punk would put it—but when they did, they had to either be particularly careful about their volume, or make sure Stoick was out of the house at the time. Jack particularly liked having sex at Hiccup’s house when his father was away, because his boyfriend’s bed was more comfortable, and they could be as loud as they wanted. (Not that Jack thought he was particularly loud, but sometimes Hiccup disputed that claim.)

He was really looking forward to moving away from home, for that reason and a few others, if he was honest with himself. College the following year was going to be a blessing, though he was a little nervous about it as well.

In any case, the two days before the weekend passed easily enough, and then Saturday came along, and Jack woke up at almost eleven in the morning to the feeling of the mattress dipping and Hiccup climbing into the bed with him, spooning up against his back and tossing an arm over his waist. Still half-asleep, Jack smiled and murmured, “g’mornin’.”

“Morning, Frostbite.” Came Hiccup’s reply, and the punk nuzzled his nose into the nape of Jack’s neck; “I tried calling, but you must have your phone on vibrate or whatever. Your Dad let me in.”

There had been a time, not so long ago, when North would have rather had Hiccup arrested than willingly let him in the front door. Jack’s smile widened a little and he hummed to himself, then carefully turned over in Hiccup’s arms to face him. “Dad likes you now, you know.”

“I know he tolerates me, at least.” Hiccup chuckled.

“Mm-mm.” Jack made a soft negative noise. “You know what he’s like if he disapproves of someone. You’ve won him over. Makes my life way easier, that’s for sure.” And then, “sorry I slept in. Give me a few minutes to have a shower, you can just… hang out in here until I’m back.”

“Fuckin’ tease.”

“Okay, but do you want to go back to Dad hating you?”

“All the sneaking around was half the fun. I miss the janitor’s closet.”

“Hiccup, we were literally in the janitor’s closet yesterday.”

The punk had a childish grin on his face, and Jack just rolled his eyes and pushed one hand against Hiccup’s chest, then rolled over and climbed out of bed, bustling around the room for a fresh t-shirt and pair of boxers and then disappearing out the door and down the hall to the bathroom.

When he got back half an hour later to toss his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, Hiccup was laying on his back in the bed with Jack’s glasses in his hands, holding them up in front of his face and squinting through the lenses. Jack just sighed and walked over to pluck his glasses from Hiccup’s fingers, then leaned down for a kiss.

“I just need to finish getting dressed and then we can go.” The smaller boy informed him.

When he went to straighten back up again, though, Hiccup grabbed at the front of his shirt and pulled him in for another kiss. “What if we went with less clothing, instead?”

“Dad is right downstairs and I really kind of want to go see your tattoo place, though.” Jack protested into the kiss.

Hiccup sighed and kissed him again—but then let go of his shirt and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “So, put some fucking pants on already. Always gotta be such a tease.”

“You’re the one who crawled into my bed while I was still sleeping.”

“Smartass. Like I haven’t done that before.”

“That’s besides the point.” Jack was bustling around, pulling the rest of his clothes on quickly, and paused long enough to consider if he wanted to wear a tie or not before deciding it was a weekend so screw it. He just pulled his sweater vest over his white t-shirt and tugged at it to smooth it out, then wandered over drop a kiss against Hiccup’s hair, placing his glasses on his face and pushing them up his nose at the same time. “You coming? I don’t know where this place is.”

Hiccup pushed himself to his feet and pulled Jack into a hug, wrapping him up in his arms and nuzzling down into his hair with a sigh—and it was little moments like that that no one else got to see. The softer side to his badass punk of a boyfriend that Jack loved just as much as all the other parts—sometimes even more so.

“I brought my bike. Your Dad is gonna give me a dirty look when we head out.”

“Yeah, he’s still not a fan of me being on the motorcycle, is he?”

North was still overprotective at times, but he accepted Jack’s relationship with Hiccup now, and that was the important thing. Even knew they were sleeping together and didn’t say anything about it, which, when he really thought about it, Jack though might be some kind of genuine miracle.

But the one thing North still disapproved of was Hiccup’s motorcycle—or, more specifically, the times that Jack rode on it with Hiccup. Jack knew his Dad was only worried about his safety, and he never expressly forbid it, but every time Hiccup showed up to the house with his bike North gave him little, dirty looks when they were leaving.

Jack usually just ducked his head and shouted “BYE DAD!” before scooting out of the house and closing the door behind them as quickly as possible. He didn’t need yet another lecture on motorbike safety, and neither did Hiccup.

Today went much like any other day with the two of them heading downstairs, Jack hurrying to shove his shoes on, both of them grabbing their jackets from the rack by the door, and then Jack yelling a goodbye to his father before they made their escape. Eventually North would have to come to terms with the bike, too, but just not… today.

Hiccup was parked by the curb out front, and when they reached the bike, Jack took his glasses back off and tucked them in the pocket of his jacket for safe keeping, even as Hiccup dug the spare helmet out from the locker on the back of the bike and handed it over. They had done this more times than they could count. Jack pulled the helmet on and tightened it down, then waited for Hiccup to get on and climbed on behind him, wrapping his arms around the punk’s waist and smiling to himself as he rested his head against his back.

Then they were off, zooming through the streets of Berk at speeds that never failed to get Jack’s heart pumping. He had been nervous around Hiccup’s motorcycle at first, but now he loved it. Not that he wanted one of his own or anything, of course, he much preferred holding onto Hiccup while they zipped around town.

A few minutes later they pulled up in front of a shop with a sign in the window that read “Wayfinder Ink” and Jack released Hiccup to climb off the back of the bike, pulling his helmet off and smoothing at his hair absently while he waited for Hiccup to take it back and lock it up again. The helmet was plucked from under his arm a moment later and Jack flashed Hiccup a smile even as he was pulling his glasses back out and putting them on again.

“This is the place.” Hiccup told him, coming up beside him and giving him a little grin, “they’ve done all my ink. Their artists are really good, and they’re sanitary, which is important, you don’t want infections or any of that shit. Also, they don’t charge out the ass, which is always a plus.”

“Like I said before, I know their artists are good, I’ve seen their work. Like—like a lot.” Jack gave a little laugh, a faint blush tinting his cheeks, “and if you recommend them… I mean, I trust your judgement with this sort of thing. Most things, actually.”

Hiccup gave him a fond sort of look and gestured toward the shop with one hand. “C’mon, let’s go in so you can have a look around.”

There was a little bell above the door that tinkled when they stepped inside, and Jack stayed close to Hiccup’s side at first as he looked around, but slowly drifted away from his boyfriend when he discovered the art wall; framed photos of some of the shop’s better work. He spotted one or two of Hiccup’s tattoos in the bunch, and that made him smile just a bit.

There was another wall that was even more interesting, though, and that was the wall of simple, basic tattoos that they offered every day. Jack poured over all the different designs, ideas running rampant in his head—until blue eyes lit on one design in particular, a black dragon, curled around itself with a bit of red tail peeking through. The design was almost tribal in nature, but just skirted it, not quite there. It looked like a brand or a symbol.

“Find something you like?” Hiccup’s chin came down on his shoulder and the punk’s eyes flitted over the wall. Jack lifted up one hand to tap against the dragon design he was looking at. “Yeah, that one’s cool. I’ve thought about getting it myself, once or twice.”

“I—I think I want it.” Jack told him seriously, but then glanced toward the counter where the receptionist was watching them curiously and a large CASH ONLY sign was sitting. “But I didn’t bring any cash with me.”

A smirk tugged at Hiccup’s lips, and he slid his arms around Jack’s waist, giving him a little squeeze. “I’ll pay for it. First one’s on me. But only if you’re absolutely fuckin’ sure. You can’t take a tattoo back.”

Jack made a surprised noise and turned his head to look at Hiccup as much as he could. “You don’t have to do that, Hiccup, it’s probably expensive…”

“A little,” Hiccup agreed, “but I’m doing okay for money. Don’t bitch, Jack, just let me do this for you.”

He almost protested more, but in the end, there would be no point. Hiccup had made his mind up and there was no changing it after that happened. Jack still shifted, slightly uncomfortably, as he turned his eyes back to the design he had been looking at before. Finally, he leaned back into Hiccup’s chest and asked, “promise this won’t be, like, agony?”

“It’s not nearly as bad as people make it out to be.” The punk assured him, “but it also depends on your pain tolerance. You’ll just be getting a little one, right? So, you’ll probably be okay.” And then; “don’t get me wrong, it’ll hurt, but it won’t feel like you’re being fucking… flayed alive, or some shit.”

Jack was quiet for another moment before finally turning his head and kissing Hiccup’s cheek. “Okay. Let’s do this before I come to my senses.”

Hiccup grinned. “Do you have any idea how Goddamned hot you’re gonna look with a tattoo?”

“Pfft.” Jack turned around in his arms and shoved him away gently.

Hiccup fell back a step, still grinning, then turned around and headed over to the receptionist, who left her seat and disappeared into the back, returning a few minutes later with a hulking man who was just covered in tattoos. There was some back-and-forth between him and Hiccup and then he smiled widely in Jack’s direction and asked, “virgin, huh?”

Jack flushed red because he wasn’t—except, he supposed, with this he absolutely was. “Uh.” He managed, “yeah. Be nice?”

“I’m always nice.” He informed Jack, “my name is Maui, and I’ll be your tattoo artist today. Come on over.”

“Maui’s done most of my ink,” Hiccup told his boyfriend as Jack made his way over and somewhat embarrassedly showed Maui the spot on the right side of his lower abdomen where he wanted the tattoo to go, lifting up his shirt and vest and tugging down the front of his pants just slightly. Hiccup hesitated at that, green eyes pausing on the exposed skin, before swallowing and adding, “getting it there’ll be a little more sensitive, like I said.”

Jack just nodded. He understood. But that was where he wanted it, so that was where he was going to get it, regardless of the added pain. Or at least that was what he was thinking now—he figured he might be cursing himself in a few minutes, if it hurt more than he was anticipating.

“And you just want number twenty-six on the board?” Maui asked, picking up a book and flipping through the pages, then showing the image to Jack. “This one?”

Jack nodded again. “Yes, that one.” He pulled his shirt down again, satisfied that—

“Right, shirt off, time to give Moana a show!”

—or not. The nerd flushed red and glanced over at the receptionist, who grinned at him and wiggled her fingers in his direction. Then she just informed Maui; “you wanna talk about a show, Maui, you were literally tattooing some guy’s dick in here not two hours ago. That was a show. Leave this poor kid alone.”

Jack was still balking, so Hiccup eased up to him and leaned in for a kiss, then gently grasped the edge of his sweater vest and rucked it up, tugging it over Jack’s head and then giving him another kiss. The sweater vest was followed by his t-shirt, which Jack hesitated over before allowing his boyfriend to pull that off, too. Then he just shifted awkwardly as Hiccu’s hands got to work unbuttoning his pants and tugging them open and down the slightest bit.

“There. Much better.” Hiccup grinned and ducked in for another kiss, then pressed one back by Jack’s jaw gently. “You can put your clothes back on when the tattoo is done.”

“If you say so.” Then, a little disparaging and knowing Hiccup would disapprove; “not much of a show, though.”

The punk frowned at that and gave Jack a reproving nip. “Hey, you shut that shit down, Frostbite, you’re hot as fuck.” Then he tugged Jack a little closer and leaned for another proper kiss. “I’ll be glad to show you just how hot you are later, too.”

That was about when Maui cleared his throat. Over by the reception desk, Moana was still grinning. Maui shot her a look and she demanded, “what? They’re cute!”

“Do people really get their… dicks… tattooed?” Jack wondered out loud.

“Yes.” Hiccup and Maui both said simultaneously. Maui added, “all the fucking time.”

Jack winced at just the thought and took a bit of a breath. Hiccup leaned in to kiss his forehead with a grin. “Just don’t think about it, Jack. Yours isn’t gonna be anything like that.”

“Right.” Maui agreed and sat down on a nearby stool that was decked out with wheels, rolling himself over to the tattoo bench: a sort of doctor’s or dentist’s table of sorts, or at least that’s what it looked like to Jack. Maui patted the bench. “Jack, right? Hop on up. Moana, bring the paperwork.”

Moana chirped an agreement and dug out the clipboard with the papers for Jack to sign, bringing it over with a pen and explaining them to him—quickly but without leaving out any detail. This was important, for legal reasons. So, they didn’t get sued when someone regretted their life choices later on.

Jack listened closely and it all made sense, so he quickly signed his name at the bottom of the contract, then climbed up on the table and, when Maui made a motion for him to lay down, hesitated just briefly before doing just that. Hiccup came over and tugged his pants down a little more, making sure there was plenty of space for Maui to work, and making Jack squawk out a protesting noise, flushing red again. Maui just dug out the alcohol swabs and set to sterilizing the area of skin in question.

…it turned out the actual tattooing part of the getting a tattoo wasn’t really all that bad. Jack just grit his teeth through the pain and, at one particularly sensitive spot, flung his arm up over his eyes and bit out a curse, making Hiccup laugh.

It took just over an hour, but only because there was so much black to fill in, and then Maui was setting aside the tattoo gun and wiping down Jack’s new tattoo, then applying a pressure dressing to it. “Looks good, man! Keep the bandage on for forty-eight hours and try not to get it wet for two weeks. Buy some Tattoo Goo from Moana on your way out to apply to it once a day after you’ve removed the bandage, since I assume you don’t already have any. Make sense?”

Jack nodded and levered himself up on his elbows to look down at his abdomen—and then smiled, just small, pleased. “Yeah, thanks.”

“Looks great, Jack.” Hiccup commented, and licked his lips, adjusting his lip piercing absently. Jack was climbing off the table and beginning to fix his clothes—but Hiccup immediately began stripping out of his shirt. “My turn, now!”

“Again, Hiccup? You don’t have enough ink already?” Moana sounded amused.

“I’ve still got lots of skin.” Hiccup replied, and started a little powwow with Maui, whispering between them while Jack pulled his shirt on, followed by his sweater vest. He looked over curiously, but Hiccup seemed determined to keep his secrets.

Finally, the punk was up on the bench being prepped and the next thing Jack knew Maui was working on the side of his upper left bicep, the large man’s form blocking Jack from getting any decent looks at what he was tattooing. He supposed Hiccup wanted it to be a surprise, then. Jack just accepted it and took a seat by the reception area to wait.

Moana was puttering around, filing paperwork, and looked up long enough to smile at Jack, “not so bad, right?”

“No, I guess not.” Jack agreed, “I don’t know if I’ll be getting any more, though.”

“Oooooh, you’d be surprised. Tattoos are addictive.”

“Maybe, but this one was… personal. I don’t really want anymore.”

“Hey, not trying to be a pusher, here.” Moana grinned, “but you know where we are if you ever change your mind.”

Jack gave a smile in return. “Duly noted.”

Just under an hour later, Hiccup was popping up from the tattoo table, grinning down at his shoulder, and finally turned to let Jack see what he’d gotten done: it was a delicate snowflake in blue, intricately designed, obviously freehand, and not at all in keeping with the themes of his other tattoos. Jack just… paused. Swallowed slightly, then stood and headed over to his boyfriend, leaning up to give him a gentle kiss.

“I take it you approve?” Hiccup asked with a smirk, even as Maui gently pushed Jack aside to apply the pressure bandage to Hiccup’s new tattoo. “I figured one for one, it was fair.”

“But what if we… break up, or…?”

“I could ask you the same question about the one you just got.”

That was a fair point. Jack touched over the sore spot where his new tattoo was and then just gave a little, almost shy smile. “Thanks, Hiccup.”

With his own tattoo now properly covered, Hiccup took the clipboard that Moana came over to belatedly shove in his face and signed his name to the papers he needed to, then handed it back. Moana returned to the reception desk, humming softly to herself the entire time.

“Check out with Moana.” Maui was already starting to sterilize the equipment, and called after them when they headed over; “CASH ONLY.”

“I know, Maui.” Hiccup replied, already digging out his wallet.

Moana set a little jar of Tattoo Goo on the counter and glanced between Hiccup and Jack before asking, “one bill or two?”

Hiccup fished a wad of bills out of his wallet while Jack shuffled his feet and felt unnecessarily guilty. “I’m paying for us both.”

The transaction was simple enough and Hiccup handed over the designated amount—plus a tip—then swiped the Tattoo Goo off the counter and turned to hand it to Jack, who looked at it for a moment before tucking it into his pocket. Then Hiccup said his goodbyes to Maui and Moana, and they were out the door, Jack waving to them as he left.

Outside, Jack took a moment to just breathe a little, the vague pain from his new tattoo almost comforting in a weird sort of way. He was smiling to himself when they reached Hiccup’s bike, and Hiccup unlocked the lock box to pull out the spare helmet. When he turned to hand it to Jack, he paused—and just smiled.

“No regrets?” He asked.

“Not yet anyway.” Jack replied, then; “you didn’t need to get one for me, though, that’s…”

“Hey.” Hiccup leaned in to press a kiss against Jack’s forehead and offered, “you’re as permanent as it is.”

Jack just smiled, soft and fond. “Same.”

[doublejango]

A multimuse RP blog, primarily for Blitz from Helluva Boss, along with muses from Beastars and other media. Please take a moment to check out my Rules, which you can find below the cut. My blog is currently under construction.

Quick note: It is fine to reblog anything (except RPs) from me. Memes? Go for it, you don’t have to send me anything and you don’t have to reblog from the source. Art? Same deal. You like an Ask that I answered and you want to reblog it? Fine by me. Dash commentary? Sure! And tbh I wouldn’t mind you reblogging RPs, but most of my partners don’t want RPs reblogged. So if it looks like a roleplay post between two people, please leave it alone and don’t reblog <3 I also don’t mind if you Like posts. Liking and reblogging is fine, just please don’t repost.

Affiliated with @moxxietude – Epiphany is my main Moxxie, now and forever, and I will always default to her version.

Minors, DO NOT INTERACT. Do not follow me, sends asks, or try to interact in any way unless you’re over eighteen–and the same goes for your characters. I do not interact with characters who are minors, or who appear to be minors. I’m in my thirties, so if you are too (or older!), that would be great!

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No baby/pregnancy plots, and no stolen grimoire/crystal plots. I am finally adding this to my rules to make it official because I feel like a monster when I have to say No to it in IMs. I have no doubt that those plots would be a lot of fun, but they're not the plot for me.

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I try to always tag for content that seems likely to be triggering. I’ll use the tags example tw or example cw for those. I don’t anticipate there being a whole lot of that on my blog, but when it’s there, I’ll do my best to tag.

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About following… I am going to be more selective this time around. My blog is mutuals only, although I am always open to new mutuals. When it comes to sideblogs, I'll only write with them if you have your hub blog clearly listed on said side-blog. I also probably won't follow people who rapid-fire post a lot of images, mini replies, etc. I know we all do that once in a while, but when it appears to be all you do, or the majority of what you do, it's just a little too overwhelming for me. I like to be able to see more than one mutual on the dash, you know? I strongly prefer blogs that write multi-para content, even if we're all as slow as molasses.

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I don't RP with direct portrayals of the Abrahamic God. While I myself am not religious, and am actually kind of anti-Christianity given how many times, and how deeply, I've been hurt by Christians? I deeply believe in respecting people's faiths and needs. I don't need to share someone's faith to support them in it, and just because I've had bad experiences doesn't mean I believe they're all awful and don't deserve some consideration. A friend has requested people avoid putting RP posts with God or Jesus as a character (especially being shipped) onto their dash, and I think that's a completely fair request. Blacklisting and tag filtering doesn't always work, I get it.

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When it comes to activity... I am very, very slow, but I generally don't lose interest in plots. Just because it has been a long time in between replies doesn't mean that I suddenly don't care anymore. I have a loooong attention span, even if I only have two brain cells. Please respect that I am slow, and I will respect if you need to be, too <3

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I respect Dead Dove Do Not Eat and will fight for people’s right to write it. 'Nasty', awful, twisted, broken, and villainous messes are always welcome on this blog <3 I will always do my best to tag with what applies, either NSFT (as in Not Safe for Tumblr) or DDDNE.  I don’t necessarily write a lot of DDDNE, but I am willing to, and I will not judge you if that’s something you enjoy. I have some personal hard limits for it & am happy to discuss if we start going down that path, and will gladly hear yours!

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If you have a lot of sideblogs, I probably won’t follow them until we are writing on them. I am trying to keep my dashboard a relatively chill place.

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Don’t try to bully or guilt-trip me into writing smut, please. I can and will write it. I’ll write filthy, explicit smut (tagged and under a read-more). I’ll write soft vanilla stuff. I’ll write fade to black, whatever my RP partner prefers–I’ll do my best to match your vibe. But if you mock me for the fact that I prefer to let smut happen organically? I’m out. Additionally, I am ace. What interests me about smut is how it affects the characters or the stories. If all you want is just to write filth because it's hot... I'm probably not the writer for you just because we will never be on the same page/have the same vibes, and I've learned that just kind of wears me out.

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And on a last note... Personal ethics are actually important to me. Being respectful is important to me. I spent almost a year on this blog buying into the general RPC culture of "always look the other way, smile even if someone punches you down, never care too deeply, enable everyone to keep on getting off, whatever they need." But the thing is... that's not me. As I said in an answered ask: " It's easy to keep on partying and rolling with it all and having fun if you don't worry about who gets hurt along the way, if you expect the person you knocked down to play the game and pretend that nothing happened... But that's not a game I want to play--and the people who do want it like that aren't ones I want to be close with. I've never been one to party with anyone who places gratification above consideration. I don't want to start now."

I believe in standing up for yourself and your friends, but doing it in a mature way that doesn't involve witch-hunts or callouts. I believe in fighting back against censorship and fascism, and in (respectfully) pushing back against cruelty.

I'm ace, queer, and trans; I'm not going quietly into that good night.

[goldyashes]

helloooo everyone and happy opening!!

i’m velvet, today i’m here with my brand new muse kwon ahseop (stage name: ash) and i’m super excited to develop him here with everyone else’s muses!! he’s sodapop’s main dancer, lead rapper and center. and there’s a lot going on for him!

under the cut i’ll list some tidbits about him (because my profile page is still super barebones) and some plot ideas! please like this post if you’re interested in plotting and i’ll scurry over to your ims. i also have discord upon request and am a lot faster to reach over there.

what’s his deal?

he was born in daegu, south korea on october 15, 2000

tw alcoholism — his dad was a military man, holding incredibly toxic masculine values, while his mother was a washed-up unsuccessful artist who never made it to the stage. the two of them met in rehab for alcoholics — end tw

not wanting ahseop to grow up with wishy washy ideals and a vague dream to chase, his father sent ahseop to an extremely competitive boarding school where he was told to strive for the best

life in the boarding school wasn’t the best for ahseop, while he managed to keep up his grades enough to satisfy his father and achieve the highest rank in his class among his peers, that only made him a target of resentment. added with his resting bitchface and lack of expression, only isolated him further as his classmates believed he thought he was too good for any of them

music was his only reprieve, composing from a young age. his music teacher was the only person he felt he could talk to, not in any noble manner—but because the teacher saw potential in him

in highschool, he was scouted by a small company when he was busking at a park

against his father’s wishes, ahseop signed himself to the company. eventually dropping out of school when he was slated to debut because the schedules wouldn’t work with his boarding school

tw alcoholism — during this time, his parents got into a huge argument and his mother started relapsing badly. she was checked into rehab and the two of them officially divorced some time later, leaving ahseop to his father’s scrutiny, who also started drinking — end tw

unfortunately, the company he debuted under eventually went bankrupt and the group was disbanded, giving his father ample justification to shove ‘i told you so’ into his face

he started working a few jobs to keep himself busy and make something of himself, while his father hounded him to get his education back on track

however, as luck would have it, when ydh entertainment was holding auditions and he joined in because he had nothing else to lose—he got signed again, much to his father’s dismay

going up?

the lawsuits that ydh is dealing with didn’t exactly instill confidence, but ahseop has grown desperate with no other options, so he stays

he trained for two years, realizing that his creativity wouldn’t be properly used as ydh is more restrictive than he originally thought, especially when it comes to crafting an image for the public

during his training days, he heard whispers and was also directly criticized about how he needs to smile more in order to make it in this industry—that snapped something inside him, so he starts practicing how to smile in front of a mirror, forcing himself to be more of a moodmaker and jokester, at least within crowds

when he was chosen for debut, ahseop wasn’t sure how to feel about it. there were even more restrictions and a concept they must adhere to at all costs—and he’d be at the center of it all

still, despite the heavy burden and the parasocialism he’s forced to participate in, he wants to do some good. he remembers how he’s brought up, the horrors of boarding school, the mental health of kids like him—so he donates, but that ends up making him go viral

the rumours that he’s doing charity work to hide his bad behaviour had always existed, he thinks it’s because of his resting bitchface off camera, but the rumours worsened when he emotionally snapped at an ex group mate of his, raising his voice and saying things—there were no visual witnesses, but it happened

however, it hasn’t had a big toll on his reputation as a whole… it does feed more into the sasaengs attacks and hate comments though, gives them more ammo against ahseop, but his own fans are rather loyal

tw smoking & alcoholism — if it does get out that he smokes to deal with everything, and that he’s always a day away from picking up a bottle, it’ll probably ruin their image… but he can’t help it, really. at least when it comes to drinking, he still manages to hold off because he has seen what happens due to his parents — end tw

plot ideas!

to the other sodapop boys: if you trained as long as he did, you probably saw what he was actually like prior to everything! only to see him become kind of a Different Person. but if you trained a little while after he already made himself into a moodmaker persona, then maybe the days where he’s just staring up at the ceiling zoning out after holding a million fans’ hands is new to you

tw smoking — someone (whether in sodapop or not) who runs into him smoking and tells him that he should quit because it could ruin the group’s image especially because he’s the center, or someone who he can share a moment like this with. being real and genuine, for once! — end tw

someone he might have known from his time in the boarding school as the smart kid who left everything behind, most likely someone who still holds the belief that ahseop thinks he’s better than everyone, he never cared to dispel how people perceive him

i think a secret ex would be an interesting dynamic to explore during his trainee days… once he was slated for debut and the company’s restrictions became even more daunting, ahseop would have called it off no matter how he feels about it, timelines would have to fit though!

alternatively, a what-could-have-been person in ahseop’s life that he’d think about whenever his defenses are down, but it’s impossible to ever ruminate on now that he has debuted

someone who does believe the rumours that ahseop is just doing charity work to cover up his bad behaviour, and wants to call him out on it

coming from a strict family he never actually indulges in hobbies like gaming, reading and fandom culture… i want someone out there to introduce him to something nerdy, give him a reason to become invested in romcom manhwas and play things!!

anything you may have!! please share with me your ideas i’d be super excited to hear all about them!!

[ocrpsearch]

💕 hi! 21+ looking for 21+ only. i’m looking to do a dark wlw / fxf roleplay—i have a few ideas in mind that i’ll list, though i’m not set on anything specific and i’m more than happy to brainstorm together! if you have any ideas of your own, don’t hesitate to tell!

as for the little prompts below, my preferred roles are in bold.

- in which an orphan grows disturbingly infatuated with her foster / adoptive mother.

- or similarly, muse A gets married and believes she’s going to live happily ever after—until her stepdaughter begins to show some disturbing behavior/tendencies.

- in which muse A is hired for a tutoring job by a wealthy family—only to discover that her employer is none other than her former bully, muse B, who had made her high school years a living hell.

- a clueless human moves into an idyllic cottage, and takes in an injured fae she finds in her garden. only, unbeknownst to her, the fae’s decided that they’re mates.

dead dove themes highly preferred. limits and triggers can be discussed in private. i write advanced literate - novella level and adore detail, so if you’re lit to semi-lit, this might not be the ad for you! i also love to chat, headcanon, and plot together ooc, and would appreciate it if the energy’s matched.

if you’re interested, like this and i’ll reach out asap!

interact and anon will reach out!

[loveherdeerly]

ׂ╰┈➤ twenty-five, she/they, semi-lit to advanced ฅ^._.^ฅ

about me

i’m deer! i’m a bisexual cat mom that works full time. i have been writing and roleplaying for around eighteen years now. i take pride in being a diverse writer that can try my hand at any age, race, gender, or genre. i can write short and casual, or long and detailed, though i usually prefer something in between. i love to craft new characters and universes. i enjoy writing romance, but i also value friend and family connections for my characters even more sometimes. i am always happy to make friends, plot, draw, create pinterest boards, and chat ooc for hours!

what you can expect from me:

: ̗̀➛ daily to weekly replies (depending on general reply length & muse; novella will take me longer), and active ooc chatting!

: ̗̀➛ a diverse cast of characters and eagerness to do multimuse. i really dislike doing only one or two characters honestly; the more the merrier!

: ̗̀➛ energy matching & plotting. i give you whatever you give me. if you’re dry, i’ll be dry and likely ghost you. if you’re putting in minimal effort, so will i. likewise, if you’re excited and eager i will be too! when my partner is as passionate as i am, it strengthens my muse.

: ̗̀➛ very few triggers

: ̗̀➛ nsfw & some dead dove topics

: ̗̀➛ ooc chatting, pinterest, spotify, maybe even fanart!

what i won’t do:

જ⁀➴ super detailed gore, cat abuse, bathroom kinks, incest or csa (mentions are okay)

જ⁀➴ mxf or ocxcanon without doubling (unless i like your ad.) it is very rare that i will do an rp without doubling!

જ⁀➴ rp with anyone under 20 (go do your homework)

જ⁀➴ writing samples (every rp is different, and my writing style changes accordingly. i match my partner’s vibe so i don’t believe writing samples can adequately exhibit my abilities. its fine if that’s a dealbreaker for you. good luck in your searching!)

જ⁀➴ do all the plot work by myself (please contribute so we can keep our interest!)

genres / tropes / plots

bold for what i like the most!

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛ scifi, slice of life, family, found family, spooky, horror, pregnancy, angst, drama, adventure, action, superhero, romance, crime, mafia/cartel/gangster, espionage, fantasy, anime, realism, right person wrong time, historical fiction, college, soulmates, aliens, interracial relationships, queer relationships, mystery, war, disaster, comedy, heist, mxm, fxf, mxf, nbxm, nbxf, trans characters, opposites attract, blended families, dystopian/apocalyptic, modern, high school, big families, affairs, arranged marriage, supernatural, serial killer, royalty, retrofuturism, athletes, space opera, western, southern gothic, ancient, small town, chosen one, military, witches, celebrities, steampunk, ccxcc, ocxoc, ocxcc… and more!

fandoms

for shipping or plots based off of them. if it is listed here, i am interested! please feel free to ask me about what characters i pair with or am comfortable writing as. :)

·˚ ༘₊·꒰➳: ̗̀➛ criminal minds, top gun, my hero academia, bridgerton, twisters, harry potter, the outsiders, marvel, dc, stranger things, kingsman, bullet train, the hunger games, atla, star trek, star wars, the walking dead, disney, gravity falls, alien, bg3, mlp, encanto, a quiet place, wonka, mission impossible, scream, john wick, enola holmes, james bond, ghostbusters, the purge, men in black, transformers, jurassic world, maze runner, pirates of the caribbean, ocean’s 8, the mummy, winter’s orbit, designated survivor, outer banks, GLADIATOR, love and deepspace / lads

if you’re interested or i liked one of your searches, feel free to shoot me a dm! ♡

[mollymauk-teafleak]

oh the times that we believed

More of the fantastic @minky-for-short's human Huskerdust painter and muse au! A bit of plot motived hurt/comfort!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

cw: abuse, sex work, it's Angel Dust working for Valentino and all that implies in canon

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Angel wondered when he’d start believing the things Husker told him. 

Some things he didn’t believe and wasn’t supposed to. Husk’s stories from his ragged upbringing on the Strip were clearly bright, shiny pearls formed around small grains of some truth, given to be admired and enjoyed, even if it was artificial. Husk would launch into tales of impossible, artful cons, victories snatched at the last moment thanks to a card up the sleeve, run-ins with the mob where Husk’s life hinged on a dice roll and a mad dash on stage to blend into a big band. 

When he told Angel these stories with obvious delight when the younger man laughed until he cried, gasped at just the right moments, hung on his every word, it was like sitting with a younger version of Husk. He’d see the great showman his lover could have been if he’d had quieter demons and more certain luck, the dreams he’d once had that still clung to him, a jacket he’d outgrown a long time ago. Angel couldn’t quite believe any of those stories but that wasn’t the point of a magic show, was it? 

It wasn’t those stories that Angel struggled to believe. It wasn’t anything big, really. All the languages Husker could speak, the achingly beautiful art he made, the places he’d been that Angel only knew as names in a book. All that he could swallow easily, he didn’t doubt that he’d found something special in Husk, a man made of dizzying highs and crashing lows and interesting stories, like an antique store in paint-stained shirtsleeves. 

The problem wasn’t the big things. It was the little things Husk said that Angel didn’t know how to believe, small handfuls of words he whispered gently or scattered like handfuls of seeds, almost unaware of the blooms they’d grow into inside Angel’s mind. 

 I remembered those were your favorite flowers. I just worried you might be cold. I wanted to let you sleep, I know how tired you are. We can take a break. I’ve got you. I’m here. I won’t leave. 

I love you. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to?”

Angel sighed internally and added it to the list, wishing Husk’s love was as easy to believe in as his lies. 

“What do you mean?” he murmured, the question he really wanted to ask but shrunk down small. 

“Well…” Husk’s gaze was knowing, though he didn’t mean that as an attack the way most people in Angel’s life did, he didn’t want to know so he could hurt, “You’ve been sitting in that robe for half an hour now, Legs?”

It was news to Angel, though he wasn’t surprised. Time had always been something slippery to him, running through his fingers like water when other people could grasp it and be sure of it. He’d been prone to black outs when he was a child, snatches of time he wouldn’t be able to recall afterwards, only bruises in the shape of his father’s fists and his sister’s fruitless tears to show him what had happened while he was gone. He’d started escaping into them as a young man, using chemicals to open the doors to oblivion, again relying on souvenirs to piece together the story afterwards when it was safe. When it could almost be something that happened to someone else. 

And now, brain still slick and foggy from the night before, he wasn’t surprised that he slipped away, not wanting to think about what was going to happen when he took off the robe, when Husk saw what was underneath. 

What did surprise him was Husk’s offer. 

“But I’m supposed to sit for you today,” Angel’s fingers toyed with the cheap fake fur that edges his robe, worn flat and matted from how long he’d clung to it as his comfort blanket, “Val ain’t paying you to paint me with my clothes on.”

“And if I gave a rat’s ass what Valentino thought, you wouldn’t spend more time in my bed than you do in front of my easel,” Husk pointed out with a wry smile, coming to sit beside him on the sagging old couch in the corner of the studio.

“I’m coming,” Angel insisted, though his voice was wearing so thin the lie showed through, “I’m just tired. Had a late night, that’s all.”

Angel didn’t know who he was kidding, trying to fool a man who’d grown up on the Strip speaking fluent bullshit, who could see the way his hands were trembling, the way he only pulled his robe tighter around him. But Husk didn’t seem angry or even irritated by the feeble attempt, just studying Angel with a careful, warm gaze. 

“There doesn’t need to be a reason,” his voice was gentle too, light, willing to play along and pretend this was just going to be a regular day, “If you don’t feel like it, you don’t feel like it.”

“You know what my job is, right?” Angel gave a bitter laugh, staring at his hands, trying to force them to relax and not look so desperate, “You know what my life is?”

“Baby,” that broke Husk’s voice a little, the sadness welling up in the cracks, “You ain’t at the club right now. You’re with me, you’re safe here.”

Another thing Angel didn’t know how to believe, another thing to toss into the chasm between what he wanted and what he could do.

“When are you gonna get sick of trying to convince me?” the words slipped out of Angel, past his better judgment, taking advantage of his bone deep exhaustion and clouded mind, “When are you gonna get tired of saying this shit to me and it not making a difference?”

There was a moment of quiet or at least as quiet as this part of the city got, down to just the riot of horns and curses from the street outside. Angel’s stomach went into a sickening freefall, leaving him burning with self hatred. He never could have anything good in his life without bending it to see when it would break, so he could cut his hands on the jagged edges and tell himself the pain had been inevitable, that he’d been right to expect the worst, that he didn’t have to change because the outcome would always be the same. 

“Can I touch you, baby? That okay?”

Angel jumped like a gun had gone off by his ear, the nod shaken out of him before he could think whether it was smart to be honest right now. 

Words were hollow at best and weapons at worst but something about the solid presence of Husk’s hand on his shoulder was more certain, something he could trust in. It hurt, of course it did, there was nowhere under his robe where it wouldn’t, but Angel kept it off his face. He knew it would hurt far worse if Husk took it away. 

“Short answer, Angel? Never,” each word came slowly, like he was checking it over to make sure it was right before putting it in place on the end of his tongue, “Do I wish things were different, yeah, of course I do. I wish you’d never been hurt the way you have, I wish the idea of me loving you and caring about you wasn’t new. But, fuck, I don’t blame you for that, how could I? It ain’t your fault.”

“It isn’t my fault that Valentino has a contract with my name on it?” Angel took a sharp, ragged breath, whipping around to face him, “I was a junkie long before I met him, Husk. My life was well and truly fucked before he decided to make a profit off it. I signed my body over to him and I meant it, how is that not my fault?”

“Because you trusted him back then,” Husk’s voice grew firm, roots digging deep and refusing to bend under Angel’s attempt to wrench it up, “And I know I’m asking you to do the same for me, telling you I won’t hurt you when that’s all anyone’s ever done. Believe me, the asking don’t come easy either. Before you walked into my studio, I was ready to just drink my way to hell and be done with it. Believing I deserve you, that I got any right to tell you I love you…it’s hard.”

For a wild moment, Angel wished he had two sets of arms, one for the part of himself that burned to shove Husk away, one for the part that ached to pull him close, “So why do it? Why try when it’s so hard it feels…impossible?”

“Because you’re worth it.”

Husk said it so plainly, without hesitation, like he was telling Angel the sky was blue, that water was wet. Like he just knew. 

Angel had never had any use for faith, his nonna and his sister had tried to convince him but when he looked at the stained glass, his eyes were always drawn to the snake coiled around the tree, the twisted shapes with horns and claws more than the pure, perfect saints with their palms upturned to the light. Even when he’d been too young to know himself, he had known that when the priest spoke about temptation and deviance and sin, he was talking about Angel. Those were the first words he learned to describe himself and that kind of shame never fully went away. 

But when Angel looked at Husk, he saw something in his eyes that could only be faith. Belief for its own sake, belief because it filled a space inside him, because it felt good when so many other things felt bad. 

“So I’ll never get tired of telling you I love you, baby,” Husk murmured, “I’ll never get tired of telling you you’re safe here. Whether you believe me or not, it’s true and it’ll always be true.”

“Husk…” tears blurred his vision but he still felt that gaze, anchoring him in place. 

He didn’t have the words to finish that sentence, he didn’t know what to call the emotions thrumming in his chest, scared that if he looked too closely they’d crack and fall away. Instead he shrugged out of the robe, letting it turn into a faux silk puddle around his hips, letting Husk see what he’d been hiding from him, why he hadn’t been able to imagine showing him before. 

Husk’s voice was strangled, like something was gripping his throat, something not outside but inside, “Angel. Fuck, what did he do to you…”

The bruises had looked bad that morning when he’d dragged himself upright, showering and dressing quickly so he didn’t have to see them, only feel them, but Angel knew they’d look worse now. Husk’s expression, the tremor in his voice, told him enough. 

“Apparently some big shot was in the club last night,” Angel’s voice was flat, distant, echoing oddly in his ears like it was someone else speaking, “Someone Valentino wanted to impress. I was headlining like usual but I fell, went down hard. No way to recover.” 

He lifted one shoulder, a more misshapen, more natural bruise throbbing like it knew he was talking about it. 

“Val was furious,” he closed his eyes against the memory of flashing eyes and bared teeth, smoke pouring out with every curse and cutting word like there was a fire inside his mouth, “I was in for a beating anyway but then…then I made it worse. I told him I’d slipped because my hands were shaking. I wasn’t gonna tell him why, I’d said too damn much already but…but he made me tell him.”

“Tell him what?” Husk prompted gently, not demanding, just giving him permission to say it. Just promising him he’d be heard. 

“That it was the shakes. That it was because I ain’t had a hit in…a week?”

It sounded such a small thing to say it out loud, a pathetic, scrambling first step up a mountain that stretched into the clouds. Seven days, seven hard, painful, blinding days, felt like nothing to boast about, a child holding up a shiny candy wrapper and calling it treasure. Sitting here, all Angel could think was how seven days wasn’t worth a beating, not when he was just going to fall off the wagon at any moment. 

But Husk’s voice was awed, a tone that would make Angel think of the colorful prayer candles and brightly painted wooden rosary beads in his nonna’s little closet, the place where she carefully tucked her faith and her home away, keeping it safe from their family’s darkness. 

“That’s incredible, baby,” he murmured, finding Angel’s hand and holding tight, “I mean, I’m sorry that asshole flew off the handle but, fuck, I’m proud of you.”

Angel gave a dry, bitter laugh but he held on just as tight, “Don’t get used to it, can’t promise it’s gonna last.”

“Don’t matter,” Husk’s voice was as firm as his grip, keeping Angel anchored, “I’m proud of you either way. For doing it and for telling me, for letting me see. I know what it costs you.”

The smile came easily, easier than it had any right to when he was sitting here wearing nothing but the streaks of tears and blooming bruises, “No more than you’re worth, Husk…sorry, I ain’t gonna make a pretty picture today.”

Husk paused a moment before a light flickered in his eyes, a light that took years off him, that turned him into the main character from those impossible bullshit stories. 

“Well…I’m sure as fuck not lifting a finger for Valentino today, except to give him a taste of his own medicine,” his eyes slid over to his cluttered workbench, deeply stained with turpentine and oil paints, old whiskey jugs and jam jars filled with water in half a hundred swirling colours, “But I still feel like painting. Work with me here, Legs…”

Angel watched in bemusement as Husk began loading the coffee table with half crushed tubes of paint, watercolor palettes that had wept half of their pigments away, his most delicate brushes. He navigated the chaos of his studio almost without thinking, always knowing what he needed and where to find it, even if he never put it down in the same place twice. 

“The hell are you doing, handsome?” Angel tilted his head, putting his arm out when Husk gestured, without even thinking because he just didn’t need to. 

“Trying something new,” Husk sat beside him, dipping a feather light brush into water, then pressing it to a square of dusty pink paint until the horsehair drank the color, until it looked like a flower bud, “Call it inspiration.”

“Like I’m your muse?” Angel flashed him a grin, knowing Husk thought his gold tooth was hot.

“Like you’re the love of my life,” Husk gently touched the tip of the brush to his skin, “Let me know if it hurts…”

It didn’t, the brush was as delicate and gentle as Husk’s own fingers, like it really was an extension of him. A few strokes and that bud bloomed into an orchid on Angel’s skin, with a burn scar in the center. Suddenly it wasn’t where Valentino had pressed the smoldering end of his cigarette to wrench the confession out of him, it was something beautiful. 

“It won’t last forever,” Husk murmured, eyes holding Angel’s, “But neither will the hurt. Either way you’re beautiful and either way, I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Angel’s voice trembled along with his hands, making the orchid dance as if in some breeze, “Can you do more of them?”

Husk raised his knuckles to his lips, “Fields of flowers. A galaxy’s worth of stars. Moons and suns and whatever the hell else you want, baby. I can’t give you much but I can paint you the universe.”

“I’ll take whatever you’ve got,” Angel laid his head against Husk’s shoulder. 

He said it wasn't much but to Angel, it felt like everything.

Every scar, every bite, every bruise was given something beautiful. Some got flowers until Angel was wearing a necklace of them, some became clouds in a sky that began as daylight at his fingertips and ended at night by his shoulder, with every color in between. Dragons curled around some, guarding them fiercely, planets orbited around others and made them the core of distant solar systems. 

Husk painted almost without thinking, like he was letting whatever he felt for Angel spill out through his brush, giving him a hundred other stories than the ones the bruises told. He made him a fae prince with garters of wisteria on his thighs and serpents curled around his wrists, a young god with the world in his palm, a literal angel with a folded pair of gorgeous wings on his back. He was right, they wouldn’t last, but Angel knew he’d always remember. Nothing was going to take this from him. 

And while he painted, almost as great a gift as the escapes he was offering, Husk listened. He seemed to know which scars to ask about and which to let lie, which ones to frame and which ones to cover. Angel told him about the jagged slash on his back, the bullet that had whizzed overhead while he crouched behind a bar in France, after the drag show he’d been performing in went to shit when an enemy soldier felt the knife strapped to his thigh. He told Husk about the pinhole scar on his ear from his very first, very stupid attempt to pierce them, the one that had ended with his sister bending him over the sink and holding her favorite scarf to his ear until the bleeding stopped. He showed him the bump in his nose, where he’d fallen on his face, smack bang into the sidewalk, right off his very first pair of high heels. 

Husk might have been a showman once upon a time but he’d clearly spent a lot of time in audiences too. His laugh was a smoky wheeze, like an accordion with a hole in the bellows, and he used it at just the right moments. He asked the right questions, he groaned and gasped and chortled and made Angel feel as though he was standing on a stage, bringing the house down. And all while he wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing, with Husk crawling all over him to paint his chest, his back, down to his ass and between his thighs. It tasted like relief, to be naked but not offered up, to be exposed but not sexualised, touched but not grabbed. He loved when Husk fucked him, of course he did, but it was nice to know it didn’t have to be an inevitability, something to make him feel more powerful rather than powerless. 

Angel didn’t think there was an end to his scars but, by the time the sky outside was bleeding orange, he was standing in front of Husk’s dusty mirror, a completed work of art. Every mark on his skin, from his childhood to last night, was decorated and adorned and loved. He would cry but he didn’t want his tears to ruin the sets of bright, golden eyes Husk had painted on his cheeks. 

Instead he choked out, “Thank you…fuck, Husk, thank you so much…”

Husk wiped smudges in half a hundred colors off his hands, eyes warm and admiring, “Should be me thanking you, baby. You let me help.”

“Now that I don’t believe,” Angel reached out and snagged his collar, pulling him into the frame of the mirror so he could look at himself and Husk at the same time. 

“Listen…there was something else I wanted to give you, not that you need to take it,” Husk’s voice softened, eyes ducking and an honest to God blush darkening his cheeks, “You tell me if I’m being an old fool here…”

Angel paused, watching his lover’s expression in the mirror, struck with the sudden sense that the ground was about to shift beneath his feet. 

“Ever since you introduced me to your friend, Charlie?” Husk cleared his throat, suddenly sounding like he was reading from a prepared speech, “She commissioned me for a couple paintings of her girl, the mean eyed one.”

“Vaggie?” Angel chuckled, “Yeah, she said she was going to. She’s a generous girl, huh? A toff but she’s nice about it.”

“Real fucking generous. I ain’t had pricetags like that since before I blew it all,” Husk admitted with a small, almost disbelieving laugh, “But…it got me thinking. Between what I’m getting from that asshole Valentino and your friend…well, your contract with the club has to have a price attached, right?”

Angel’s heart sank with the bitter, shameful taste of a dream he’d been a fool to believe in, “Yeah. It was a fortune when I first signed it and it’s only gotten bigger every year. Val finds any excuse to add to it, room and board, make up, costumes, the fucking drugs. When I was younger, I thought maybe one day…but it’s impossible.”

“Not for me.” 

The reflection wasn’t enough anymore, Angel turned and looked at Husk, jaw slack, eyes wide, “What?”

“I could give you the money to buy your contract out from under that creep,” Husk’s voice steeled, a fierce determination bolstering it, “Then you wouldn’t have to live with him, you wouldn’t have to work at his whorehouse calling itself a nightclub. You’d be able to get clean, you could find a new job or, hell, you could still strip but it would be on your terms. And he wouldn’t be able to say shit. And…you could leave the city. Get away from all this.”

Husk’s voice stumbled at the end, the words clearly paining him but he said them anyway, not flinching from Angel’s gaze. 

It was a fantasy, an impossibility, like the things he’d painted on Angel’s skin. And in spite of himself and the life he’d lived, in spite of every second that had come before this one, all Angel could do was ask for more. 

“Or?” he prompted, his voice a whisper like it was scared to be heard. 

Dawn broke in Husk’s smile, “Or…I buy the apartment above my tiny, shitty studio. It’s also tiny and shitty but it’s got enough room for two people. You move in, I succeed in pulling my career out of the gutter and give you the chance to build a life you actually like. I make you coffee and flapjacks every morning, you make me your nonna’s recipes, we go out dancing, I drag you to art museums, you make me go to the ball game. And…and I guess we live happily ever after?”

“I guess,” Angel smiled, feeling his heart crack open, all the hope he’d been so scared of rushing in, “I want that, Husk. God, that’s all I want.”

“Then let’s go get it, baby,” Husk drew him close, his embrace smudging the paint but it didn’t matter, this dream meant more. 

Maybe it was just a daydream. Maybe it was one of those stories too fantastical to really believe, the work of a Vegas showman, a beautiful con, the throw of a dice. Maybe it was another escape into oblivion, an idea that would melt away like a high. Maybe it would fade into a scar or blur like paint under a thumb. 

But Angel didn’t care. If it did fall apart, the way everything had before, he’d still say this feeling had been worth it. 

Angel realized now, he didn’t have to wait until he started believing the things Husk told him. He had to choose to believe in them. 

That's what made it faith. 

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - forty-two | meet the morn

“So… how do I join?”

“I’m sending you the invite, just give me oneeee… second.”

You scrolled to San’s screen name, MorningStar, and selected it.

Di-Dng!

“Dear god, I can not take that place. Who’s the new guy?”

“Yeji this is MorningStar-- should I call you Morning or Star?”

“Umm…” San thought for a couple seconds. “I’m not sure.”

“MourningStar…” Yeji trailed off as she thought. “I think I would just go with ‘Mourn.’”

“‘Morn?’” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“Sort of… Shakesperian, I guess. ‘Meet me on the morn.’”

“OH!” Yeji laughed. “I thought it was ‘mourning’ like, ‘mourning dove’. I read it wrong.”

You and San laughed.

“My eyes are tired. I ended up fixing the printer at work again.”

“Does it keep breaking?” San asked.

“It doesn’t stop breaking, honestly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Di-Dng!

“Yeji, just break the fucking thing. I have a bat you can use. I’ll put nails in it for you.”

“Ryujin, you’re back? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah. I put some food in the fridge for you if you want it. Vietnamese.”

“Oooooh. You spoil me.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

You chuckled.

“You’re not going to introduce me, Cat?”

“Sorry, I’m setting up the game.”

“Keeho isn’t here for a day and already you’re struggling. Do you want me to do it? I’ve done it before when you and Keeho both show up late.”

“Yeah, but could you maybe show me how to do it another time? Your job makes you late more often than not.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you later.”

“Thank you.”

“Introduce me while I do this.”

“Oh-- yeah. This is MorningStar. We’ve become friends recently. This is his first time streaming. We were just deciding if he wanted to go by ‘Morning’ or ‘Star’ and Yeji suggested ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’ because she read his name wrong.”

“Hmm…” Ryujin mused as she was, most likely, selecting the settings of the game. “I sort of like ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’, actually. Even as ‘Morn’ as in the time of day, it sounds cool. Like the… sound of it sounds cool.”

“What do you think, MorningStar?”

“No-U-Morn sounds cool. If you all like it, then I like it.”

QuackIsWhack✅: Easy to please JohnnyYuta: We love an unbothered king LeaBea: I like his voice YangYangGangGang: NO U!

Di-Dng!

Di-Dng!

“Heyyyy, Mick and Bracken are here.”

“Yep!”

“And we’re starting off in different rooms today.”

“Wooow-- oh! Did you finally finish unpacking?”

“We did,” Mick said triumphantly.

“Wooow, nice!”

“Mick, Bracken, this is MorningStar.” You said.

“Nice to meet you.” Mick said.

“Nice to meet you. I heard you’ve decided on ‘Morn’ as a nickname?” Bracken asked.

“Yeah, it seems like everyone likes it.”  San said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Morn.”

“Nice to meet you too, Bracken.”

“Ahem?” Mick cleared his throat.

“And you as well, Mick.”

“Where’d you get the name from?”

“Maybe he’s Satan,” you laughed.

“You, being friends with the devil?” Mick asked. “I’d believe that.”

You laughed.

“Um, I’ve never streamed before so I was trying to think of a name, and my cat’s name is Byeol and she wakes me up every morning, so…”

“Ah, so ‘MorningStar’. That’s cute, Morn.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: His cat’s name is Byeol? TheNicestGuy: He has a cat? JohnnyYuta: Show us the cat! UltimateHyung: Why no cam! MinHoe: We want cat! LuciPURR: Give us the cat! StrickenChicken: Cat! Cat! Cat! SleepySheepy😴: 😻😻😻

“They’re clamoring in my chat, Morn, do you see?”

“Yeah-- wow, they’re going wild.”

“The internet loves cats.”

JohnnyYuta: Let us see her! MinHoe: WE NEED TO SEE THE CAT A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: We demand the cat!

“I don’t even have a camera, how would I show her?” San laughed.

“Maybe we can figure something out.” You laughed.

    previous | main cast | masterlist | next

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋

rachs-words •

[prpfz]

💕 hi! 18+ looking for 18+ only. i’m looking to do a dark wlw / fxf roleplay—i have a few ideas in mind that i’ll list, though i’m not set on anything specific and i’m more than happy to brainstorm together! if you have any ideas of your own, don’t hesitate to tell! as for the little prompts below, my preferred roles are in bold. 

in which an orphan grows disturbingly infatuated with her foster / adoptive mother.

or similarly, muse A gets married and believes she’s going to live happily ever after—until her stepdaughter begins to show some disturbing behavior/tendencies.

in which muse A is hired for a tutoring job by a wealthy family—only to discover that her employer is none other than her former bully, muse B, who had made her high school years a living hell. 

therapist x patient.

a clueless human moves into an idyllic cottage, and takes in an injured fae she finds in her garden. only, unbeknownst to her, the fae’s decided that they’re mates.

dead dove themes to be expected; limits and triggers can be discussed in private. i write advanced literate - novella level and adore detail, so if you’re lit to semi-lit, this might not be the ad for you! i also love to chat, headcanon, and plot together ooc, and would appreciate it if the energy’s matched. 

if you’re interested, like this and i’ll reach out asap!

give a like and anon will get back to you

[darkrpfinders]

💕 hi! 18+ looking for 18+ only. i’m looking to do a dark wlw / fxf roleplay—i have a few ideas in mind that i’ll list, though i’m not set on anything specific and i’m more than happy to brainstorm together! if you have any ideas of your own, don’t hesitate to tell! as for the little prompts below, my preferred roles are in bold. 

in which an orphan grows disturbingly infatuated with her foster / adoptive mother.

or similarly, muse A gets married and believes she’s going to live happily ever after—until her stepdaughter begins to show some disturbing behavior/tendencies.

in which muse A is hired for a tutoring job by a wealthy family—only to discover that her employer is none other than her former bully, muse B, who had made her high school years a living hell. 

therapist x patient.

a clueless human moves into an idyllic cottage, and takes in an injured fae she finds in her garden. only, unbeknownst to her, the fae’s decided that they’re mates.

dead dove themes to be expected; limits and triggers can be discussed in private. i write advanced literate - novella level and adore detail, so if you’re lit to semi-lit, this might not be the ad for you! i also love to chat, headcanon, and plot together ooc, and would appreciate it if the energy’s matched. 

if you’re interested, like this and i’ll reach out asap!

.

[fogandblackcoffee]

LonelyEyes rec list

Just sharing some LonelyEyes fic I’ve enjoyed!

Satisfaction by thinkatory | 4k | Complete Summary: Peter is nothing if not comfortable with the status quo. "Don't you ever want to try something new, Peter?" "Like what?" Peter asks, in open sarcasm. "Skydiving?" "You might take a risk or two beyond the obvious." Elias hates his fascination with the perfect cut of Peter's suit, the angle of his jaw, the fullness of his lips. It's not a singular obsession, but it would be easy to set aside if only Peter wasn't such a tease. "Isn't there anything you've thought of doing in the last few years that isn't fooling around with work of the Lukas sort?" Peter drinks as he muses on that. "I've thought about making more trouble for you," he admits. "Did you want to make a bet? I'd like that." This goes about as well as you can imagine. Notes: A fic about a bet with Elias backfiring on Peter. Beautifully written, with on-point characterisation, entirely believable, and very hot.

Alone at the Edge of the Universe by PossiblyHuman | 20k | Incomplete Summary: He couldn’t help it. He was twelve, and had never been fond of reading. Perhaps if he had known this would have been his only chance to read this story, he would have paid more attention. Instead, he closed the book, stroking his hands over the coat one more time before hanging it back on the hook branded with his initials.There was a feeling of intense sadness, leaving it there like that. It tore at him, deep in his core as he walked to the door. Basically begging him to go back for it. He ignored it. If he could ignore the cries of his own siblings, a coat would never hold any sort of a sway over him.

(Or, a self indulgent au where the Lukas family are all repressed and cursed selkies, and Peter deigns to ignore that. Until he no longer can anymore.) Notes: I was completely uninterested in selkie fics until reading this, because it’s just that good. 

Simon Says by navree | 5k | Complete Summary: It is the surety of the sentence, the way that Simon is absolutely convinced in what he says, like it's the simplest fact.

Five times two very old men discussed the status of a young third party (and the one time that status changed). Notes: So emotionally devastating that I will never recover. All of this person’s fics are just brilliant, well-written and well-characterised, but this one is just heart-wrenching in a way that you don’t really expect with characters like these. I have to share in the sadness. Bonus: I don’t subscribe to the whole ‘Peter died to protect Elias’ secrets’ hc, but this person’s writing is so good I don’t even care.

A Net of Gossamer by navree | 11k | Complete Summary: Peter gives James a smile then, as uncharacteristic as anything for a Lukas, though it's just as sharp as the last time he did, like a mouth filled with knives and hard edges, and though light, filled with mockery. James finds that he doesn't necessarily mind it.

Notes: Another brilliant fic by Navree! All the compliments for Simon Says applies here too. 

Unwanted Looking-After by NevillesGran | 4k | Complete Summary: Peter all but fell out of the Forsaken, which had never happened before. He had also never been seen—worse, known so intimately. He had never, in his life or worst nightmares, spoken for twenty minutes straight about himself. “Come now, Peter," said Elias. "I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Peter has lost a bet and just barely survived his encounter with the Archivist. His day gets worse from there. Notes: This fic lives rent-free in my brain. Like the others, magnificent characterisation, well-written, and the ending hit me like a freight train (in a good way. You know, a ‘whao that is an incredibly hot concept I’ve never considered before and I’m adding it to my degeneracy’ sort of way). 

365 daily affirmations for healing and positive thinking by serenfire | 5k | Complete Summary: The florist asks, “So, who should I address these flowers to?” Martin can't seem to get the words out. This was, unequivocally, a bad idea. Georgie gives Martin one last, wicked smile. “Write: To Peter Lukas. From Elias Bouchard.” This was a really, terribly awful, extremely bad idea, and it’s definitely going to end with Martin’s death. Notes: Absolutely hysterical.

get off (i'll only call you after if you say i can) by lewdwizard (sillywizard) | 1k | Complete Summary: There is a particular flavor of loneliness, Peter thinks, to anonymous sex. Two parties seeking closeness, connection, from a stranger, ending the night in an empty bed with nothing but the hollow satisfaction of an orgasm. The physical closeness plays so nicely off the emotional distance, sharing such intimacy with someone you will likely never see again. It should come as no surprise that, when on land, Peter tends to frequent glory holes. Notes: Just some hot, hot gloryhole LonelyEyes.

Ready for your use by LonelyPirate | 3k | Complete Summary: Elias is having a great time. Peter not so much. Notes: Apparently I really like fics where Peter has Elias’ dick in his mouth. Anyway, hot, well-written, and the concept and execution is just [chefs kiss]. 

[beardedmrbean]

Oh yeah the king family thing, it’s not like there was this big assassination of a very important person in Dallas who had the nickname Jack and it shook the world…who might have ended the Cold War sooner.

And his supposed killer was murdered before he was even questioned

And another character who filled his position wasn’t killed as well…

Okay allegedly it was the cia, but the FBI really think that the King family would buy their claim after wire tapping MLK own fucking home and sent that letter saying he should kill himself?

Oh and the Malcom x thing, I mean when you are a powerful figure that left an extremists group saying that white people was made in a lab by a bitter black guy. Not shocking who killed you

(Got a feeling the government payed NOI to do that hit?)

And Anna Frank thing, I presume her diary came out in the 50’s. Given that people had a panic about Pixar Turning Red the Asian female mc had LE GASP hormones(not to mention she tame af compare to the….less that ideal stuff I see women in fandom make) lords knows how many fathers and mothers would have heart attacks learn that their “innocent” daughters might be doing private if they read Anne Frank unedited diary

Fuck I sound like I’m on Epstein list

Oh yeah I heard about that academic paper, I mean leftist basically made the black version of birth of a nation with women king. And the majority of radfems goes uncheck and they have positions of power in institutions.

We only learn about the horrors the Nazis did, not the fact they had a “eat the rich” as the left don’t want to admit a lot of Jewish people that Hitler targeted was well off

Oh yeah the king family thing, it’s not like there was this big assassination of a very important person in Dallas who had the nickname Jack and it shook the world…who might have ended the Cold War sooner. And his supposed killer was murdered before he was even questioned

For some reason I read this like 3 times and each time even though I knew it's JFK you're talking about my brain added a "Ruby" to Jack, which I suppose works since jack ruby is the guy that killed lee harvey oswald.

The X-Files did a episode where they went into a lot of different stuff that CSM did, if you know the show at all.

"Musings of a cigarette smoking man" It's a really good one, actually works as standalone that you don't need to know anything about the show to enjoy.

Mallcolm X stuff is nuts, I don't think the feds bothered with him though, it's farrakhan all the way there. If there was a firm move towards improved race relations he might just lose his cash cow, it's not just politicians that profit from the status quo, look at any social movement out there who's original stated goal was achieved.

Title IX and the Civil Rights Act should have been the stop and then nothing else legislative needed, but nope that didn't happen.

1948 for the Diary, there was just a lot of sexual stuff, bisexual to be more specific I believe, talk of her period, things you would imagine a girl that age would be talking about really, like you said, but not in 1948 you don't get that published around the globe then.

I'm good with keeping the sanitized version the one used in schools too, at least till college maybe I don't know.

We only learn about the horrors the Nazis did, not the fact they had a “eat the rich” as the left don’t want to admit a lot of Jewish people that Hitler targeted was well off

You also aren't going to learn that there was quite a bit of socialism mixed into the nazi deal, collectivization, hitler youth indoctrination centers where you learn that your duty is to your fatherland and your fuhrer,

My dad sings in the chorus for the local symphony, guy in it was hitler youth, said it was like a summer camp, but he was part of a group that did tours and sung patriotic songs so he lucked out, also lucked out that his mom kept him home from that last trip.

But ya there's a lot of that they can't bring up today, because it looks too much like socialism (because it is) weren't before because socialism bad nazi bad was good enough, for the most part.

Should have done better on that sadly ______________

Sorry this took so long I was facetiming a friend I never really get to do much more than text with.

[why-raven]

Did you design your OC with a specific aspect of RP in mind? Such as shipping, NSFW things, attending in-game social events, hosting events or entertaining others?

Little OC Creation Ask List. — OPEN

Thank you for the ask, @mimble-sparklepudding! I always love your ask questions for the thoughtfulness and insight, and I’m very happy to receive one from the OP (´◡`) To answer the question: not really, for the options stated in the question.

Whenever I design my OCs for storytelling (be it for writing fanfics or RPing with others), I usually go along with either my personal aesthetic taste, or if I already had a rough idea for their lore to pick something that would work reasonably. I don’t think about what other players would feel towards my muses because I didn’t create my characters for them in the first place. Great if you like my blorbos, but it’s fine if you don’t vibe with them. My characters and I aren’t here to please everybody. I’ve been writing and roleplaying in other fandoms for at least a decade, way before I even joined the FFXIV community, so I’ve never felt the need to create my characters around other people unless absolutely necessary.

So far, I’ve only shared two major muses openly on this site: Sora and Yiuno. Sora is a likeable sort of character, with her cute appearance and child-like innocence (we do not talk about her penchant for violence). She was the first OC I made when I started playing the game during Shadowbringers launch. I was fairly clueless about FFXIV back then, so I didn’t really think much about her character development and mostly went along with what felt right for her. I only started working on her backstory proper around patch 5.55, when I’m more familiar with the game’s lore.

As for Yiuno… he wasn’t created to be someone good and straightforward, like Sora. When male Viera is added to the game in Endwalker, I thought of designing a character who is multilayered, complicated, and fun for me to explore from various perspectives. Yiuno is a dangerous but broken man; almost nothing about him is particularly likeable as a person (except maybe his face, lol). Speaking of appearance, that was what I had intended for him—he has an idealistic beauty that could charm others to gravitate to him, until they finally realize the horrors he kept behind that pretty smiling mask (and by then it’d probably be too late). He’s supposed to be a hypocritical existence, the embodiment of paradox and contradiction.

The only exception created for shipping with NPC, I’d say, is Persephone, the other half of Yiuno’s Ancient self. The serious reason is my own take on the true motive that drove Emet-Selch to extremity in his actions against the Sundered on Etheirys to reclaim the Star for his own people (i.e. my way to fill in some blanks in the canon). The fun reason? I enjoyed the various studies on the relationship between Hades and Persephone in Ancient Greek mythology, and I want to do something similar with them. (Also, I stand by my personal headcanon of Emet and Lahabrea often lamenting about their wives after the Convocation meetings.)

While most people might be unwilling to admit this, our characters also serve as an extension of our real selves, particularly in a virtual world like Etheirys. I mean, we technically don’t see the real faces of other players in the game (unless you share your RL photos, that’s on you), so naturally the avatars that everyone sees in the game is a representation of the player controlling that character. I believe that ultimately people create characters for themselves, because they are the ones making the conscious choice and taking the necessary actions to fulfill that decision. Just my two-cents.

[bubblyhoney]

cheeky

warnings: lAnGuAgE, suggestive reference, a buffy quote

tags: sapnap x reader

words: 1248

A/N: first fic about our beloved snappy in the books! hope you guys like. :)

-

“God, I love corporate America,” you sigh, stopping in your tracks. Sapnap nearly runs into you with the cart and makes a squeak noise, prompting you to turn.

“What does that even mean?” He grumbles, maneuvering past you and towards the produce section. You trail after him, swiping a carton of oatmeal raisin cookies on the way and dropping it into the front basket of the cart.

“It means if Publix was a person I’d suck their—,” is all you get out before he’s slapping a hand over your mouth.

“There are children.” He looks genuinely concerned and you laugh, mouthing at his hand behind your mask. It drops to the handle.

“Don’t be such a grumpy pants, baby.” You sling an arm around his wide shoulders, slumping into his side as he shuffles forward.

“I don’t want to be awake right now, much less grocery shopping.” His voice is slightly more nasally right now, attributed to his inability to remember to take his allergy medicine. “I’m only doing this for you.”

For someone who just said something cute, he looks awfully displeased.

“Such a good sport,” you coo, rubbing your head at his shoulder.

“Where’s the list?” He straightens and pats at his pockets.

“I have it!” You pull it from your back pocket and pass it to him, supplying a slightly... chewed pencil as well. He gives you a weird look but moves to cross off number 6: cookies. An essential.

“You wanna tag team this?” He suggests and you raise your eyebrows, wiggling them. “Jesus, Y/N,” he sighs, like being your boyfriend is the hardest job in the world. “Just go get the milk and eggs while I get the produce. Can you do that?”

You pout under your mask. “I guess,” you say, and trundle off towards the dairy aisle, Sapnap's borrowed slippers slapping on the tile.

When you return, a loaf of whole grain bread tucked under your arm and a carton of 12 grade A’s in one hand, Sapnap is decidedly happier. In fact, he’s humming the Elmo song. Weird choice, but you don’t question it as you drop the items down carefully into the cart.

“What’re you eating?” You ask, leaning in to sniff him. He tugs down his mask and pops a green grape into his mouth, pulling it back up as he chews obnoxiously loud. “Pass me one, daddy.”

He chokes, coughing once and swallowing, before tugging a grape from the package in the cart and passing it to you.

“You have to stop doing that,” he mutters, but grabs your hand in his and places it around his shoulders. You hum, chewing, and lean into his neck.

“What else is on the list?” Your voice is soft, much calmer and casual after his change in attitude. The paper emerges from his pocket and he uncrumples it, eyes scanning over once.

“Saran wrap, pink lemonade, sliced turkey, tortillas, mozzarella, lettuce—oops.” He scribbles lettuce out with the pencil. “Um, jalapeño chips, sparkling water, and frozen burritos. Of the Hot Pocket variety, specifically.” He passes the list over to you and pulls another grape to toss it into his mouth. “I think we should invest in a cheesecake too.”

“Your brain is so big.”

“Yeah? You like that?” He glances at you and pushes the cart forward with a jerk, mounting it swiftly and gliding past a bubble of teenagers who look on, equally confused and amazed at an adult riding a Publix cart. You shake your head, following slowly after.

“Okay, I’m actually having fun now.” You can see the grin in his eyes as you catch up near the chip aisle. He ducks into the aisle, snagging a bag of jalapeño Ms. Vicky’s and dropping it into the cart.

“Good,” you muse, poking his side. “And how does it feel being the hottest person at Publix at ten at night?”

He shoots you a questioning look but considers your question as he drops another bag of chips onto the lettuce.

“Feels good, actually,” he decides and swings out into the flow of traffic, nearly rolling over the foot of an elderly person. He apologizes quickly and you can just barely see his cheeks flush pink over the hem of his mask.

You two make your way through the list efficiently, sometimes not-so-efficiently taking five minutes to decide if coconut or mango sparkling water is better. Coconut tastes like the smell of the all-purpose spray cleaner at home, but you accede. A thing or two is added to the list: cheesecake, upon his request, and two bottles of aloe vera lube. (“There’s a sale, babe! Would be a crime to not stock up.”) The cashier doesn’t give a second thought to the last items as they scan it, but you two giggle like teenagers.

“Ah,” Sapnap sighs, tugging off his mask and leaning forward to push the airflow of the AC directly at his face. Cool air blasts the interior of your car and you thank every holy being in existence for modern air conditioning.

“Florida sucks ass.” You move your head slowly next to the vent, tilting like a rotisserie chicken. “I can’t believe Dream got you to stay.” Passing him a stick of gum, you shove your own piece into your mouth and slide the middle console closed.

“Me either,” he hums in agreement.

“Good your way, baby?” You ask, shifting the car into reverse and easing back. He mhm’s and you slide out of the parking spot easily. The parking lot is getting busier, however late, and you maneuver between the groups of adults shopping and teenagers loitering near the cart bays.

“Dibs on the AUX,” he announces and reaches for the cord.

“Okay,” you say as Kids by MGMT starts with a flutter of sound. “Price is a kiss on my lips.” Your car lurches to a stop at a red light and you tilt your face towards him expectantly. Sighing, he leans forward and presses a single kiss to your lips. Mm.

“That’s it?” You pout, lip jutting out. He grips your jaw in his hand, only centimeters away, and rubs at it with a thumb.

“You’re a brat, you know that?” he breathes, but kisses you once more (with feeling). You close your eyes and lean into it, tongue slipping between your lips and barely touching his.

A loud honk interrupts you and you jerk away, eyes wide and looking up at the light. It’s green, you realize, raising a hand in apology to the person behind you, and kick the car into gear.

“You haven’t done that since high school,” Sapnap grins and sits back in his seat. You move a hand to his leg, glancing at his face with a similar smile.

“Done what? Kiss you?”

“No.” He rolls his eyes. “Missed a green light while kissing me.”

“Mm,” you agree. “I remember red lights being a popular destination.” Squeezing at his thigh, you slide him a look and watch his cheeks flush. He just shakes his head, leaning on his elbow against the door with his hand on his jaw.

The car idles into a stop and the glow of the red light reflects on the hood of your car. You shift slightly in your seat, raising your eyebrows and giving him a pointed look.

“Don’t even think about it.” He turns towards the window but you catch a glimpse of a smile from underneath his fingers.

Cheeky.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D i don't mind comments either ;)